Fine line black tattoo of the word free in cursive script with a small bird perched at the end, on the side of a person's ribs.

Free script with a small bird on the ribs

Fine line · Ribs · Black and grey · Photo

A small black tattoo of the word free in thin, cursive script, with a tiny bird silhouette at the end of the final letter. The linework is delicate and even, with no visible shading, and the ink is solid black. The tattoo sits on the side of the ribcage against a plain skin background, with a blue tank top and a hand with white nails at the edge of the frame.

Fine line Lettering Ribs Free Bird Script Word

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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

The gatehouse at Harrowmere has no gate left, only the iron pins rusting in the stone, and you climb through it every morning with the bread wrapped in your apron. Your brother says the old lord kept a goshawk up there. You have never believed him, because nothing that size would fit through the arrow slit you use to watch the valley road.

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The bird is a swift that nests in the chapel bell cote, its tail forked like a pen nib. You leave it crumbs and talk to it in the low voice you use for your mother when her chest is bad. One morning you find it caught in the rotten bell rope, wings tangled in the frayed cord, and you work the knot loose with your thumbnail while the sun crawls across the nave floor and the steward's dog barks somewhere below.

When the cord finally gives, the swift does not fly off at once. It sits on the broken sill, looks back at you as if weighing something, then drops out over the moat and is gone above the willows. You stand there a long while with the frayed rope still in your fist, listening to the steward shout your name about the washing.

You do not tell him. That evening you borrow the mason's chisel and, above the postern arch, you cut the word free into the soft sandstone, the letters thin as thread, and at the end of the last stroke you carve a small bird with its tail split. Anyone passing under the arch must stop and read it, and in the morning it is still there.