Close view of a fine-line black cursive script tattoo with two short crossing bars on the inside of a wrist.

Cursive script and two bars on a wrist

Fine line · Other · Black and grey · Photo

A fine-line black tattoo of cursive script runs vertically across the inside of a wrist, with two short horizontal strokes crossing above it. The linework is thin and even, with no shading, and the ink is solid black against pale skin. The photograph is a close, straight-on view of the wrist against a plain, light background.

Fine line Lettering Other Script Lettering Line Cursive

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 snow had closed the pass by noon, and by dusk the only lamp still burning on the Halfway road was the one over the door of the Carrick Inn. Mrs Ilse Tannahill kept the book behind the bar. Every traveller who slept under her roof signed it, and any who could not pay wrote a word beside their name instead, a word they would answer for when the thaw came.

Keep reading

A man came in with frost in his beard and a girl's glove stuffed in his coat pocket. He wrote nothing in the book. He asked for a bed, a bowl of broth and a pen, then sat by the fire drawing a long slanting line on the back of his hand until the ink ran dry. Ilse watched and saw the word he was copying was not his own. It was the name of a village beyond the ridge, and across it he drew two short bars, like a gate half closed. The boy who swept the ash said that was the Ferrow gate, shut since the flood.

In the morning the man was gone, and so was the glove, and the snow had drifted to the sills. Ilse opened the book and found his line already written there in a hand she did not know, the name and the two bars, and beneath them the date of the flood. She closed the book, banked the fire and took the shovel down from its hook.

A debt written in a snowbound house is a debt somebody has to walk off, so she went up the ridge with the sun on the drifts and the glove folded in her apron pocket, and at the Ferrow gate she dug until the iron showed.