Two side-by-side tattoo flash designs of a traditional dagger with a jewelled pommel wrapped in a rose, shown as a black line drawing and a coloured version.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Dagger and rose flash, line and colour versions

Traditional · Mixed · Flash

The image shows a dagger with a diamond-shaped pommel and a crossguard, with a rose wrapped around the blade. The left version is an outlined black line drawing with no shading, while the right version is fully coloured with a red rose, yellow and blue dagger details and green leaves. The two designs sit side by side on a plain background, showing the outline and finished colour versions.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Nurse Maud Keddle had worked nights on Ward Seven for eleven winters, and in all that time she had never once asked what the brass key on her lanyard opened. It hung beside the crash trolley, a small key for a small cupboard, and the sister before her had said only that it was for the sharps, and that sharps were not to be counted aloud after midnight.

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The trouble began the week the lifts were rewired. A man in bed four kept asking for his rose. He was not confused, the doctor said, only fixed on it. Maud had no idea what he meant until Tobin, the broad night porter, told her the old tale the ward children used to tell each other: that a dagger with a diamond at its pommel would open any locked thing, but only if its owner gave back a flower in exchange.

Maud went to the cupboard at ten past three, when the corridor hummed and nothing else did. Inside, under a folded blanket, lay a dagger with a crossguard like a pair of tired wings, and wrapped about its blade a rose so dark it looked wet. She lifted it out. The rose, she swore afterwards, was warm. She carried it to bed four and laid it on the sheet beside his hand, and he closed his fingers on the hilt and smiled as if he had been waiting thirty years for someone to be sensible.

He died before the tea trolley came round, quietly, the way the good ones do. In the morning the cupboard stood bare and the key was back on her lanyard, though she did not remember putting it there. Maud still counts the sharps every night, out loud, and she has never once come up short.

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