Black and grey crown tattoo with script above it on the wrist, beside a gold watch and a pink heart keyring.

Crown tattoo with script on the wrist

Hand · Black and grey · Photo

A hand and wrist show a small black crown tattoo with a looping script word above it. The crown has shaded outlines and a few solid details, and the script is partly visible and blurred in places. The tattoo is the focal point against a dark background, with a gold watch, white sleeve and pink keyring and nails in the frame.

Hand Crown Script

Find an artist for this

Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The rain has been coming down on Chapel Street since six, slanting under the tarpaulins until the cardboard boxes go soft at the corners. You have sold four rings, a stack of mismatched teaspoons and a clock that ticks only when you stand close to it. Now there is one thing left on the velvet tray, a tin crown no bigger than a thumbnail, its red enamel chipped to bare metal along one point, and you have been turning it over since the church clock struck eleven.

Keep reading

A man in a pale raincoat stops at the stall, shaking water from his cuffs, and asks what it's worth. You tell him the truth, which is that you don't know. He holds it up to the bulb over the awning and tilts it until the inside of the band catches the light. "Someone's written on this," he says, and reads it aloud slowly, as if the letters might rearrange themselves if he hurries: a name, and beneath it a date from a year you don't remember living through.

You take it back from him, and the handwriting is looping and careless, the way you wrote when you were nine and thought nobody would ever check. The name is yours. The stall behind you, the one with the striped awning that blew away in the winter of the flood, was once your mother's, and she used to let you lay out the crowns on the tray before the first customers came. You had hidden this one in the band of your own coat, meaning to come back for it, and the coat went to the jumble years ago.

You don't charge him. You close his fingers around it and say it's already sold, and he nods as if that's the most reasonable thing anyone has said to him all day. When he has gone, you stand under the dripping awning, counting the teaspoons again, and the clock on the tray ticks once, then goes quiet.