Black ink drawing of a faceless figure with long flowing hair, its body covered in botanical flowers including roses and lilies, ending in roots, on a tan background.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Faceless figure covered in flowers and roots

Botanical · Black and grey · Flash

A pen and ink drawing of a faceless female figure with long, flowing hair that merges into a dense mass of flowers. Roses, lilies and other blooms cover the torso and arm, with leaves and tendrils running down into branching roots at the base. The fine black linework and cross-hatching are set against a plain, warm tan paper background, with the design centred in the frame.

Botanical Woman Figure Flower Rose Lily Leaves Root Hair Botanical

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The roots came up through the chapel floorboards the spring after the bell was taken down, and by June you could no longer tell which lilies had been planted and which had simply arrived. You kept the key, so you were the one who had to unlock the door each morning and step around them.

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Old Maud Thorne at the lower cottage said the wood had been promised something a long time ago, a bargain struck with a woman who walked out of the trees with her hair trailing to the ground and no face to speak of. Maud said it the way she quoted the price of flour, flatly, then went back to shelling peas. You thought it nonsense until the Harrow boy went into the trees after a lost goat and came out three days later with his boots full of rosebud and a silence he never shook off.

So you did what the village had always done with things it could not uproot. You cut a path to the wood's edge, laid down bread and a jug of milk, and asked, out loud and feeling foolish, for the bell back. Nothing answered but the bees. On the seventh morning the roots had reached the altar rail and were climbing its cold iron in neat, patient loops.

In the hollow where the bell had hung, a single white lily had opened. Its petals were smooth and unmarked, and when you bent close, the heart of it held a small bronze gleam, the bell's own tongue, dropped there like a seed.