Fine line design of a cross with the word faith written in cursive along its upright, drawn in black ink on a scratched sepia background, with no body placement shown.

Faith script on a cross design

Fine line · Black and grey · Flash

A thin black line drawing of a Latin-style cross, with the word faith written in joined cursive so that it runs down the upright stem. The linework is fine and even, with no shading, and the lettering is set against a textured, scratched sepia and gold surface. The composition is centred and simple, with the cross crossbar extending to the left and right above the word.

Fine line Lettering Cross Faith Script Word

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The lorry has been sitting at lane four since before the kettle boiled, and you have read its manifest twice looking for the mistake. Osei, the driver, has stopped apologising. Rain comes sideways off the Channel and the sodium lamps hum as though they have an argument they cannot finish. Forty crates of glass plates, packed in straw and brown paper, are bound for a photographic studio in Lille. Nothing in the paperwork explains why a sealed crate should rattle.

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You take the crowbar to the lid yourself because the dog handler is off shift and the man from the agency has not answered his phone. Inside, the plates stand upright like hymn cards in a pew. Each is gold-brown with age and scratched across its surface as if someone had scrubbed it with sand. The torch finds one near the top. Someone has scored a single word into the emulsion with a steel nib, the letters joined and leaning, and above it a cross whose upright runs straight through the middle of the word.

Osei leans over your shoulder and says nothing for a long time. Then he tells you his grandmother did that work in a village outside Kumasi, cutting words into the glass of her husband's portraits so the dead could be read by lamplight. He says the crate was never meant to be opened in the rain. You tell him it was never meant to be opened at all, and he laughs, a tired sound, and asks whether you will stamp it or keep it.

You stamp the manifest passed. Before you close the lid you tilt the plate once more, and the word catches the torchlight, its last letter sitting on the cross like a foot on a step, and for a moment the whole thing looks less like a warning than a way across.