Black script tattoo of the word faith inside an outlined fish, sitting on the lower back above the waistband of blue jeans.

Faith script inside a fish on the lower back

Lettering · Back · Black and grey · Photo

The tattoo shows the word faith written in flowing black script, with the lettering enclosed by the outline of an ichthys fish and crossed by its tail. The lines are bold and solid with even weight, and the ink is dark against lightly tanned skin. The tattoo is centred in the frame, with the top of a pair of blue denim jeans visible along the bottom edge.

Lettering Back Faith Fish Script Lettering

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 fog came in off Hollin Bank the same afternoon the relief boat failed to turn up, and Dad said we would keep the lamp turning whether the mainland remembered us or not. He was already on the iron stairs with the oil cans when I found the letter under the kettle, addressed to him in my mother's hand and never opened. I did not open it either. I put it back where it was and followed him up.

Keep reading

In the lamp room the brass was still warm from the last burn. Scratched into the glass of the watch door, long before either of us, was a fish with a word running through its belly, the letters leaning like they were swimming against the tide. Dad called it the keepers' fish. Every crew that ever sheltered on this rock knew the mark meant fresh water behind the boathouse and a bed nobody would charge for. I used to think the word was the point. Standing there with the fog pressing white against the panes, I decided the fish was the point.

Below us the bell at the landing began to toll, though nobody had rung it. Dad stopped with his hand on the wick key. Out past the bank a single lantern was moving low over the water, the way a lamp moves when the man carrying it is steering by sound alone. I took the letter from my coat and tore it along the fold, then tore it again. Dad did not ask what it said. He lit the second wick and handed me the key.

We kept both lamps burning until the bow knocked against the stage at four in the morning. The man who climbed out was soaked and cursing and looked up at the tower as if it owed him money. Before he went round to the boathouse he stopped at the door, ran his thumb over the scratched fish and went in. Somebody had kept faith with that mark for a hundred years. Now I was the one who had to keep the light.