Fine line black and grey feather tattoo with the word faith in script on the side of the ribs.

Feather and faith script on the ribs

Fine line · Ribs · Black and grey · Photo

A small feather with shaded barbs and fine outlines sits beside the script word faith. The black and white photograph shows the side of a torso with the navel visible and two hands resting on the skin. The tattoo is centred in a close composition with soft lighting.

Fine line Lettering Ribs Feather Script Faith

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Sit closer, the fire has room for one more, and I will tell you about the ferrymaster's daughter, who had faith in nothing but the tide. Her father rowed the grey channel between Mere Hollow and the drowned town of Caddon, carrying the dead across for burial on the high side. Nobody paid him in coin. They paid in whatever they had left: a button, a horn comb, once a wedding ring still warm from a fist.

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Then came the autumn the gulls stopped calling. The girl, Ysolde Trent, was sixteen and sharp as a gutting knife, and she had decided the boat was a fool's way to cross anything. One morning she climbed the cliff path with a sack of salt fish and a borrowed pair of shears, and she waited under the old beech where the grey heron roosted, meaning to cut feathers from its wing and sell them to the bone-carvers in the city.

The heron did not run. It studied her a long while with one yellow eye, then lifted off and left behind a single long feather, barred dark and pale like a squall coming in over the water. It drifted down and settled in her open palm. She did not sell it. Every night after, she held it to the lamp and found the barbs knit so tight that no water could get through, and she understood that her father's faith was no grand thing. It was a feather held steady in a stubborn hand, and the stubbornness was the whole of it.

She took the oars the spring he fell sick. The first passenger she carried was a boy with no coin at all, and she rowed him over anyway, and the water lay flat the whole way. Some say that was luck. Her father said it was the feather, and she never corrected him.