Black ornamental floral tattoo with dotted drops across the sternum, above the stomach, worn on the chest.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Floral sternum tattoo with hanging drops

Botanical · Chest · Black and grey · Photo

A symmetrical floral ornament sits across the centre of the chest, with a central bloom, curled leaves and fine scrollwork extending to each side. Below it, a row of small dots and tapered drop shapes hangs down towards the navel, with the shading built up from stippled dots. The tattoo is in black and grey ink against warm skin, and the photo is taken at torso height with a teal bra visible above.

Botanical Dotwork Chest Flower Floral Leaves Scrollwork Drop Dot Ornament Bloom

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The lamp-maker's shop on Inchcalla smelled of solder and wet slate, and Mhairi had not spoken to me since the ferry brought the drowned lamp up in its net. We were meant to be restoring the chapel's hanging lamp before the August visitors came. Instead I sat with a pricker and a sheet of tracing paper, pouncing a pattern through it while she worked the central bloom on a fresh sheet of tin.

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The lamp had been her grandmother's: a bloom of brass with curled leaves and fine scrolls running out to each side, and a row of small drops hung below it, each ending in a point like a tear that had thought better of falling. Mhairi wanted the drops exact. "Stipple them," she said, "don't draw them. Lines lie. Dots keep count." So I counted. Forty-one drops, twenty on each side of the centre, and one left over that she would not explain.

On the last evening the wind dropped and the sea went flat as pewter. We hung the lamp from the hook in the porch and lit it, and the light fell through the perforations in patterns across the flagstones: bloom, leaf, bloom, leaf, the drops tapering toward the door. Mhairi stood under it for a long time. Then she took the spare drop, a blank cut from the offcut tin, and fixed it to the lowest point so the lamp swung on it like a pendulum.

"Forty-two," she said. "Mam always said there should be one for whoever came back." I didn't ask who. The lamp kept swinging, and the light moved over both our hands.