Black and grey fine line tattoo on the back of a wrist, shaped like a bracelet with a dotted chain, a small diamond charm and two crescent moons.

Fine line wrist bracelet with diamond charm

Fine line · Hand · Black and grey · Photo

A hand and wrist are shown in a close, slightly angled view, with a plain ring on one finger and a checked shirt sleeve behind. The tattoo is a delicate bracelet design made of a single thin line around the wrist, a dotted chain hanging below it, a small outlined diamond at the centre and two crescent moons on either side. The linework is fine and even in black ink, with no shading or colour, and the design sits neatly across the wrist.

Fine line Dotwork Hand Bracelet Diamond Crescent moon Dot Chain Line

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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

Put your bag down on the stone. The guard will not look at it until you have finished being polite, and I have not finished telling you about the moon. Listen. My uncle crossed the Vasil ridge for forty winters with a length of fine silver chain wound three times around his wrist. Nobody searched a man for jewellery in those years, so the chain carried what the customs men never thought to count. Every dot on it was a crossing he had made. Thirty-one dots, one for each night the snow let him through.

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The little diamond hung at the centre, and he said it was a window. When the frontier boys asked what it was, he told them it was a stone from his mother's village, which was true enough, because it was the last thing she gave him before the lorry took her south. The two crescents he added himself, one for the moon that lit the path up and one for the moon that lit the path down, because he never trusted a road that only went one way.

On his last crossing the chain snapped on the wire near the top. He knelt in the drift for an hour gathering the dots by the light of a torch he dared not switch on. He found thirty. He told the boy beside him to go on without him, and the boy did, and that boy is me. I still have the thirty-first dot in my pocket, cold as the night it fell. Shall I show you? No. Go on across. The moon is up, and it is watching you carry your bag.