Solid black silhouette tattoo of an electric guitar on the back of a hand, which rests over a sunburst electric guitar on a wooden floor.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Electric guitar tattoo on the back of a hand

Blackwork · Hand · Black and grey · Photo

A solid black silhouette of an electric guitar sits on the back of a hand, with the neck angled towards the wrist. The design is flat black ink with no visible shading, and the edges are clean. The hand rests palm down over a sunburst electric guitar on a wooden plank floor, and the warm tones come from the photograph itself.

Blackwork Hand Guitar Silhouette

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The sunburst guitar was still propped against the radiator in room four when the rain started, and nobody had paid for room four since August. I was supposed to be stripping beds, not picking at the strings with a bent hairgrip, but Mum had gone down to the chapel hall for bingo and the house was mine until six.

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Lewis had left it behind the way men leave a cough, without meaning to. He stayed three summers running, always in the room with the damp patch shaped like Africa, and every July he repainted the sign over our front gate: a black guitar on a square of white board, neck pointing down the path towards the sea, as if it wanted to be carried off. Mum said it looked like a fish that had lost its way. Guests took photographs of it. Nobody ever asked him why he chose a guitar, and he never offered.

On his last morning he didn't come down for breakfast. I found him on the front steps with the case open, tapping a rhythm on the wet stone that I didn't recognise. He said if he stopped playing he would only have the sign to remember it by, and that the paint would outlast the strings anyway. Then he pressed the hairgrip back into my palm, with a plectrum wedged under the clip, and told me to keep time.

Three weeks later a parcel arrived with a Bristol postmark and a tin of white gloss, no note. I still play the Strat on quiet afternoons, and on the wettest days I go out and touch up the sign, though the board is still good. The neck faces the sea. The rain runs off the strings and into the gutter, and the gutter goes where the tide goes.