Black script tattoo reading Grace with a small cross above the final letter, on the inner forearm.

Grace script and cross on a forearm

Lettering · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

The tattoo shows the word Grace in flowing black cursive lettering, with a small plain cross positioned above and to the right of the final letter. The linework is solid and even, with some variation in weight along the swashes of the capital G. The image is a close, monochrome photograph with soft shading on the skin and the tattoo filling most of the frame.

Lettering Forearm Script Cross Word

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The boat was already half loaded when Mairi Coll saw the thread of smoke above the far side of Eilean Dubh, and she knew the collector had come early. Her father had said the island would take what it wanted in the winter months and give back nothing, so she did not waste breath arguing. She tied the last creel with the knot her mother had taught her, pinned her shawl tight, and stepped down into the boat her grandfather had built from larch and tar.

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Her father had owed the laird's man eleven pounds since the spring. Nobody on the island had ever paid the laird in full, and the laird had never once come across the water to ask for it. This time Callum Ross rowed in a grey punt with a black cross painted on its bow, and he sat on the shingle with his hat in his lap as if he were the one who needed a favour. He said he would take the boat in settlement. Mairi asked him what a man would do with a boat that could not catch fish. He said he had asked himself the same question on the way over.

She offered him her mother's silver, the brooch and the two spoons, and he shook his head. She offered him her own labour for a year, and he looked at the bare slate roof of the church and said that was the only thing he had never been able to measure. Then he asked the name of the boat. Mairi told him it was Grace, after her mother, who had kept the name painted on the transom for thirty years and had never once let the sea take the letters off.

Ross stood up, walked to the stern, and rubbed the faded name with his thumb. He took a folded paper from his coat, read it once, and dropped it into the wrack. "A debt is a thing you carry," he said, "and I have carried enough for one day." When the tide turned he pushed off and rowed back the way he had come, and Mairi found the cross still on the bow the next morning, the paint already running white in the rain.