Flock of birds on a forearm
Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo
A small flock of five or six black bird silhouettes rises diagonally up the inner forearm, with the birds decreasing in size toward the top. The birds are solid black shapes with minimal detail, and the ink is crisp against the skin. The photograph shows the arm held near a dark denim skirt, with the tattoo in the centre of the frame.
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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction
Dear Ruth,
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The rooks came off the top field again this morning, the whole frosted lot of them, lifting from the stubble as if someone had shaken a sheet out over the hedge. Dad stood at the gate with his tea going cold and said nothing, which is how I knew he was thinking of Grandad. You'd have laughed at him. He pretended to count them and got to forty-one before losing his place and starting again.
The ewes are in the low barn now, and the water trough freezes over no matter how often I break it with the handle of the shovel. Mrs Pryce from the Hollies rang to say she'll take the two spare lambs if we can get them to the lane by Friday. I told her Friday was fine. I have not told Dad, because he will want to walk them there himself on that bad hip, and then I'll have to stop him.
Something I haven't said yet: I found Grandad's old pocket diary in the tack room, tucked behind the bridle hooks. Most pages are only weather and feed prices, but in March he wrote, "Birds up off the Long Field, five climbing, the sixth went the other way." Then nothing for a week. I laughed at first. Now I keep looking at the sky over the top field, waiting for the one that goes the other way.
Come at New Year if you can. Bring the good tea, not the cheap stuff Dad buys. I'll leave the back door unlocked and the lamp lit.
Love, Nell
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