Colour neo-trad style tattoo on the top of a foot showing a claddagh with a red heart and crown, flanked by small Mickey Mouse ear silhouettes in red and black.

Claddagh and Mickey ears on the foot

Neo-trad · Other · Mixed · Photo

A claddagh design sits on the top of a foot, with two cartoon-style hands holding a red heart topped by a crown. Small Mickey Mouse ear silhouettes in black, red and white trail towards the toes and sit on either side of the central motif. Bold black outlines and soft grey shading give the design depth, and the red heart is the main point of colour against the skin.

Neo-trad Other Heart Crown Hand Mickey mouse Ear

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The snow had been falling since Tuesday, and by Thursday the lane below the inn had vanished under it, so when the knock came I assumed it was the wind. My mother kept the bar and I kept the fires and the ledger, and I knew every regular's boots by the sound they made on the step. These were not regular boots. They were small, and they had walked a long way on nothing but nerve.

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Her name was Nessa. She had come up from the coach stop at Clifden with a split lip and a silver ring she kept turning with her thumb, a heart held between two hands and crowned at the top. Behind her, all the way down the path, the snow was pressed with little round-eared marks, the kind a child makes when he is trying to be a dog or a mouse or anything but tired. She said her brother had made them for luck. She said he wasn't with her, and she didn't say where he was.

We sat by the range while she warmed her hands. She told me the ring was their grandmother's, and that you wear the crown pointing in when you are held and pointing out when you are free. Her own was pointing in. I put the kettle on and watched her fingers curl around the mug, one hand cupping the other the way the old hands cup the heart, and I understood she had not come to ask for a room.

At first light the plough came grinding up the hill. I went to the door with her and we looked down the path. The small prints ran to the gate and stopped, as though whoever made them had been lifted clean off the ground. Nessa stood in the cold a long moment, then reached into her coat and set something on the top step: a child's glove, red wool, still holding the shape of a fist.