Black and grey realistic tattoo of a face with dark hollow eyes and cracked skin across the back of a hand.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Cracked face portrait on the back of a hand

Realism · Hand · Black and grey · Photo

A realistic portrait of a face with dark, hollow eyes covers the back of a hand, with cracks running across the skin and over the mouth. The face is shaded with smooth, soft gradients, while the cracks and the texture on the fingers use finer, scratchier linework. The tattoo is rendered only in black and grey tones against a dark background.

Realism Hand Face Portrait Eye Mouth Hand

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Bread was already rising in the back room when Ada found the doll under the proving cloths. It had been there since the Michaelmas fair, she supposed, wrapped in a flour sack and forgotten, its porcelain face gone the colour of old candle wax. Someone had painted the eyes so black they seemed to swallow the lamp. A hairline crack ran from its brow to its chin, and its mouth had been sealed with a thin grey seam, like a loaf split and mended with dough.

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She should have thrown it on the coals. Instead she set it on the marble slab beside the scale, where the flour dust could settle on its lashes, and went back to shaping the first batch of tins. The oven ticked. Outside the shutters the street was still the colour of wet slate, and the milk cart had not yet rattled past the corner of Lower Brook Street.

By four the doll had turned. Not much, a quarter inch, enough that its cheek now faced the door. Ada told herself the slab was uneven. Her hands were trembling from the early start, and when she lifted the lamp, the cracks in the plaster above the sink ran in the same pale, fine lines as the ones across the doll's face.

She wrapped the doll in the sack again and carried it out to the yard, where the bins were. The sky over the chimneys was going the colour of weak tea. Behind her, the oven door creaked open on its own, and the smell of crust rolled across the cobbles like an invitation nobody had sent. She did not go back in. She stood with the sack in her arms until the first baker's boy came whistling round the corner, and then she gave him the loaves and kept the doll.