Fine line black script tattoo reading with faith and hope on the side of a ribcage.

Faith and hope script on the ribs

Fine line · Ribs · Black and grey · Photo

A close view of the side of a torso showing a thin black script tattoo with the words with, faith and hope written in connected handwriting-style lettering. The linework is delicate and even, with 'faith' set larger and slightly slanted above a smaller 'hope'. The skin tone is neutral and the background is softly blurred, with a dark top and waistband framing the tattoo.

Fine line Lettering Ribs Script Word Faith Hope Handwriting

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Ada Penhale had kept the sub-post office at Penmorrow for nineteen years and had never sealed a letter without reading it first, a rule her father left her along with the brass scales and the cracked counter bell. So when the envelope addressed to Tom Carew came back in October, stamped Gone Away in red ink, she was not surprised to find she had already memorised what was inside. It was a short letter. It said the pilchards had come in thin, that the chapel roof had been mended with tarred sailcloth, and that the lamp at Gull Rock had been lit again on Tuesday.

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At the bottom, in the careful hand a schoolmistress had beaten into her with a ruler, she had written the thing she always wrote: with faith, then a space, then hope. Tom had teased her for it. He said it sounded like the end of a hymn that had lost its tune. She told him it was how her mother ended everything, the grocer's bills included, and he laughed and said it was the most sensible thing he had ever heard.

She took a fresh sheet from the drawer, found the pencil stub, and began again. This time she wrote to the harbourmaster at Gull Rock, asking whether the keeper's boy had reached the mainland, whether the landing ladder was still rotten, and whether anyone there had heard of a man called Carew who was owed three months' wages. She did not ask about the sea. Nobody who lived by it cared to be asked.

When she sealed the letter she pressed the wax with her thumb, the way Tom had shown her, and carried it down the wet lane to the pillar box herself. Before she folded the paper she wrote the sign-off once more, pressing hard enough to dent the sheet. Then she posted it, and stood a while in the rain, waiting for nothing in particular, until the lamp on the headland came on across the water.