Close-up of black script lettering reading Fearless with a small solid heart on the top of a bare foot resting in sand, shown in a lettering style on the upper foot.

Fearless script and heart on a foot

Lettering · Other · Black and grey · Photo

A bare foot resting in beach sand shows the word Fearless in black cursive script, with a small solid black heart after the final letter. The lettering is bold-edged with smooth, flowing strokes, and the ink is black with no colour. The composition is a close, slightly angled view of the top of the foot and toes, with an anklet visible on the second foot in the background.

Lettering Other Fearless Script Heart Foot Sand Anklet

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The tide comes across the Scarrow flats faster than anyone who has only read the ferry timetable believes, so you learn to walk the causeway with one eye on the iron posts. Your aunt keeps a biscuit tin of pencil stubs by the till at the chip shop, and every child who comes in asking for a cone is handed one and told to write a word on the slate above the counter before the vinegar comes out.

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Most of them write Mum or the name of a football club. You write Fearless, because it is the only word you can spell without thinking, and because Ffion from the mainland dared you to. She laughs, takes the stub from your fingers, and loops the F so it looks like a wave that has decided to stand up. Then she adds a small black heart after it, quick and lopsided, as if she is in a hurry to leave before anyone can tell her off.

Eleven summers later you come back across the flats on the last crossing of a grey October, carrying a letter from a solicitor and no particular plan. The shop is shut. The slate has been propped against the wall of the lifeboat house, and the word is still there under a skin of salt, the F faint, the heart stubborn as ever. Aunt Morwenna's chair sits in the window with a cardigan folded over its back.

You kneel where the sand is firm, write the word again with a stick from the wrack line, and stand back to look at it. The water is already creeping up the channel, quiet and unhurried, and you do not move to save it. When it reaches the heart, the word is gone, and you wade back through the shallows without once looking down at the place where it was.