Enlarged with AI from a smaller original
Crucifixion scene on a forearm
Realism · Forearm · Colour · Photo
A forearm carries a detailed tattoo of a crucified figure wearing a crown of thorns, with long dark hair falling over the face so it is not visible. Soft shading gives the skin and muscle a three-dimensional look, while a blue and orange sky and a small black cross sit in the background. A red drip runs down the wrist as part of the design, and a hand grips the arm from the right.
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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction
The nets came up heavy that March, and old Tomas Keir swore the weight was not fish. Six cobles went out from Skerrow that morning under a sky the colour of a bruise, and by noon the wind had turned them back on themselves. Sea runs like that do not forgive a boat for hanging on to its gear. Tomas cut his line and let his share go, but the net that came aboard last held something he had never seen a fisherman haul: a timber figure, arms stretched along a crossbar, a crown of knotted rope on its head and its hair a tangle of weed.
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Nobody in Skerrow would say who had carved it. The minister wanted it burned on the shingle. Gwen Halloran, who had mended sails for forty years, said a thing that had come up out of the sea wanted putting back in it, so they carried it down at low tide and laid it on the sand with the ebb still running. The boys went quiet. Her son Rory, who had been sick over the gunwale since the squall, pressed his palm to one wooden wrist and came away with a smear of red, sap or paint or something older.
They did not bury it. Gwen had the lamp lit on the harbour wall that night, and in the morning the figure was gone from the sand. The tide had left one upright cross of driftwood where the crossbar had been, bound at the top with the same rope.
Next spring the fleet went out again and the nets came up light. Rory still kept the red mark on his hand, and when anyone asked, he said only that the sea had wanted its share back and had taken it kindly.
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