Black and grey realism tattoo of a bearded classical bust and a pocket watch with Roman numerals on an upper arm, with gothic tracery running down the forearm.

Classical bust, pocket watch and tracery sleeve

Realism · Upper arm · Black and grey · Photo

A greyscale tattoo shows a bearded, curly-haired classical bust, styled like a sculpted marble head, above a pocket watch with Roman numerals. Below the watch, ornate gothic tracery and arched panels run down the arm towards the elbow. The shading is smooth and highly detailed, with strong contrast against the black background.

Realism Upper arm Forearm Pocket watch Clock Roman numeral Ornament Sleeve

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Sit nearer, the fire's only warm on the side you're facing. No, not that stone, it rocks. There. You want the tale of the head under the harbour wall, with the beard full of weed? Then hush the gulls and listen, for it was never a tale for children.

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When Tam Keir hauled his net off the Skerry in the spring the ferry stopped, there was a marble man in it, bearded like a prophet and curled like a ram's horn, with his mouth set shut as if he'd been told a secret and sworn to keep it. Round his neck hung a pocket watch on a chain, the hands at ten past four and the Roman numerals worn near to nothing. Ellen Mackie, who kept the harbour ledger and wound every clock on the island, took one look and said it had been stopped on purpose. Nobody argued with Ellen.

They set the head on the quay, and the watch began to run again on its own. Quarter past, half past, the little hand going round in the cold. Men who came down to the quay with lies in their pockets found their boats were always a tick behind the tide, and the ones who told the truth found the watch had caught up with them. Ellen said it kept a ledger of its own, and she was right. The night the bell went under in the storm and the boats were still out, the watch stood still at ten past four and would not move for anyone.

So we went out with lanterns, every soul on Scarrow, and we sang the names of the men at sea into the wind until the hands crept round. Tam was the last boat in. You can see the watch yet, if you go down at low water. It is always just about to strike.

Mind the third step on your way up. The head doesn't like to be stepped over.