Black and grey fine line tattoo of two chains with a small diamond pendant and a feather on the inner wrist.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Fine line chains and feather on wrist

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A black and white photograph of a raised hand showing a fine line tattoo on the inner wrist. Two delicate chains with small bead-like links hang down, with a small diamond-shaped pendant on the upper chain and a feather on the lower chain. A partial tattoo, cropped at the bottom edge, is visible near the base of the frame.

Fine line Forearm Chain Necklace Feather Pendant Diamond

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Dear Nell, the chain came into the shop on a Thursday, wrapped in tissue that smelled of the canal. Two strands of bead links, each one fine as barley, and a little kite-shaped stone hanging from the upper strand. Mr Okafor, who has run the counter at Pennock's since before decimalisation, held it up to the lamp and said nobody brings in a thing that thin unless they have already decided to let it go. I told him it wasn't a pawn at all, it was a commission, and he laughed until he had to sit down on the stool by the safe.

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It took me ten days. Forty-one beads on the upper strand, no two a hair apart, each one soldered with a flame no bigger than a grain of rice. I kept the lower strand longer, because the feather had to hang from it and the feather was the difficult part. I cut it from a sheet of nickel silver, filed the barbs one at a time with a needle file, and when I held it against the window the light went straight through the quill as though the quill had nothing to hold on to.

The customer was a retired signwriter called Doyle, who wanted the whole thing hung from a wrist rather than a neck, because, he said, a neck has been given too many chains already. I thought he was being odd until he explained that the feather should be a touch heavier on one side, so it would swing when he lifted his pen. He had been losing the set of his letters, he said, and wanted something that would keep his hand moving. I said that was the sort of job I liked best, and he nodded as if I had passed a test.

The feather is still on the hook above my bench, turning slowly in the draught from the door every time somebody walks past the window. Mr Okafor says the rent won't wait. I have told him I will sell the stone and keep the feather, and he has told me that is not how a shop works, and I have told him that it is how this one works now.