Black fine line tattoo of an antlered buck outline inside a heart, with the word love in script, on the inner wrist.

Buck and heart with love script on the wrist

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A black outline tattoo on the inner wrist shows an antlered buck head and a heart shape, with the word love written in cursive beneath. The linework is thin and even, with no shading, and the design is in a single dark ink. The tattoo sits centrally on the wrist against a plain background of skin and a blue surface.

Fine line Forearm Antler Deer Heart Love Script

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Gary was sitting on an upturned crate behind the barn when I found him, trying to thread a cufflink through a shirt cuff with fingers that would not stop shaking. The rain had come in sideways off the moor and the marquee ropes were singing in the wind. "You've got the rings?" I asked, and he patted his left pocket, then his right, before he remembered they were in neither.

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The box was the thing that had kept him awake all week. His granddad had shot a twelve-pointer on the Fell Edge estate the autumn before Gary was born, and the antlers had hung over the back door of the farmhouse ever since, grey with dust and smelling faintly of paraffin. Gary's dad cut a section of the brow tine down, sanded it smooth, and hollowed a small heart into the top with a bradawl and a great deal of swearing. Nobody had asked him to. He said a ring ought to be kept by something that had stood its ground.

I watched Gary turn the box over in his hands, running a thumb along the carved edge where the bone had gone pale from handling. "Dad would have liked this," he said. Then he looked at me properly for the first time all day. "Did he ever tell you what the buck was for?" I shook my head. Gary smiled. "He said it was so you'd always know which way the path went home."

He opened the lid. Inside, in his dad's wobbly capitals, was one word, LOVE, and beneath it, smaller, the same initials he used to scratch into the gatepost. Gary slid the rings into the hollow, snapped the lid shut, and laughed at himself for crying. Outside, the wind dropped as if someone had called it off, and we walked back across the wet grass toward the lights.