Two hands with black lettering tattooed across the fingers, including a spiral letter form, worn with coffin-shaped rings and long pale nails.

Finger lettering and spiral tattoos on two hands

Lettering · Hand · Black and grey · Photo

Two hands rest palm-down on a white surface, with single black letters tattooed one per finger, some of which are partly hidden by the fingers or rings. A spiral swirl appears on two of the fingers and the lettering has a decorative, ornate character with thick and thin strokes. The ink is solid black-grey, set against the skin tone, with soft natural lighting and a plain white background.

Lettering Hand Letter Spiral Finger tattoo Ring Hand Nail

Find an artist for this

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

Every winter the sea took something from the coast at Harrow Point, and every spring the keeper's wife counted the empty chairs in the chapel. Her husband, Abel Trewin, had kept the light for forty years and never once looked at the books stacked along the stair wall, only at the lamp and the water. So when damp got into the lowest shelf and the pages began to thin, nobody thought much of it.

Keep reading

The worm came up through the mortar in the autumn of the great gale. It was no thicker than wet wool, and it was hungry the way small things are, steadily and without shame. It ate the Admiralty tables first, then a hymn book, then a book of sea songs with a torn green cover. Wherever it went it left a neat spiral of tunnels, round and round, so that the pages looked like the inside of a shell.

Abel found it on a Tuesday, when the light was failing early and he had to read the tide by candle. He held the book up, and the worm looked back at him with its blind little face, and he laughed for the first time since the funeral. He said it could finish the sea songs, since they were no great loss, and he would take the tables across to the mainland to be copied.

When the boats came in on the spring tide, the channel was marked true, every bearing and depth, because the worm had eaten only the margins and the numbers had been copied out in time. The fishermen never knew how their safe passage had been drawn. Abel set a fresh candle on that shelf each evening, and the worm went on turning its patient rings through the sea songs, and nobody on the coast ever asked him why.