Black line drawing of a geometric rose in angular, layered petals, sketched on a white spiral notebook page with the flower in the lower right.

Geometric rose line drawing on a notebook page

Geometric · Black and grey · Flash

A black ink line drawing of a rose built from angular, overlapping petals that spiral inward to a small square at the centre. The linework is even and unshaded, and the flower sits in the lower right of the frame against a large empty white area. The drawing is printed or sketched on a white spiral-bound notebook page, with the coil visible along the left edge.

Geometric Botanical Rose Flower Line drawing

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The rose was the only thing Albert Pell would draw that spring, and he drew it the same way each time: a corner first, then the petals going round, then inward until the lines ran out of room. His mother said it looked like a thing folded by someone who had lost patience. He kept it in the back of the notebook he had bought at Ashford market for threepence, and he did not show it to anyone.

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In February the roof came down at Stannard Colliery, three streets from the chapel, and nine men were under it. The rescue captain came up from Sheffield with a surveyor's chain and a face like wet slate. Old Ruddock, the overman, sat on an upturned tub at the pit gate and said the old workings were a mess of drifts that turned back on themselves, each one leading to the next like the leaves of a cabbage, and that somewhere at the heart of them there was a square chamber where the air still came in fresh from the high shaft. Nobody on the bank had ever been there. Ruddock had only heard his father describe it.

Albert, who was twelve and too small to go down, walked up to the captain with the notebook open. He had drawn the drifts the way Ruddock had talked of them, every petal a passage, every turn a bend in the rock, and the spiral running in until it stopped at a little square. The captain looked at it for a long time. Then he folded the page into his coat and went below by the second shift. They found the nine men in the square at the centre, sitting on their coats with their lamps turned down to save the oil.

Albert still has the page, grey now and soft as cloth, with a black thumbprint on one petal where the captain pressed it. Each spring he draws the rose again in the margin, starting at the corner, and he always leaves the centre square empty.