Couple holding hands showing forearm and upper arm tattoos
Traditional · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo
A photograph of two people holding hands in a grassy outdoor setting, with faces cropped out of frame. One person wears a grey waistcoat and dark trousers and has a black and grey tattoo with rose motifs on the forearm. The other wears a pale lace and chiffon dress and has dense geometric and ornamental tattoos running from the forearm up to the upper arm, plus a small tattoo near the wrist.
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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction
Long ago, when the orchards of the valley were still rows of grey glass, two seed-keepers named Oreth and Miriam walked the old rail road towards the sea. They carried one lamp between them and a sack of rose cuttings wrapped in wet cloth, because the grandmothers said the roses would not take in the salt wind unless someone carried them the whole way.
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At the first ruined depot the road split into three lanes of cracked tar, each marked with the same painted arrow, faded almost white. Oreth wanted the left lane, which her mother had walked. Miriam wanted the middle, where the ground was softer and the reeds stood tall. They argued until the lamp guttered, and then they did what the old people did. They drew lines on each other's forearms in charcoal, one line for every road they had ever been told about. The lines wove into a pattern neither could untangle, so they inked roses over the top, so the thorns would point the way home.
The three lanes all ended at the coast in the end, the story goes, because every road does if you keep the sun on your left hand. But the charcoal had already decided something. Where Oreth's lines crossed Miriam's, the two of them stopped arguing and started walking side by side, and the sack of cuttings never once got wet from the river they forded.
When they reached the sea they planted the roses in the sand above the tideline, and the roses took. Children still climb the dunes to find them, and still pick the thorns off with their teeth, and still say that a true road is one you walk with someone's hand in yours.
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