Black and grey realism back tattoo showing a hooded grim reaper, a winged woman, hourglasses and a skeletal hand, with clouds and a ship on the upper arm.

Grim reaper and winged woman across a back

Realism · Back · Black and grey · Photo

A full back tattoo shows a hooded grim reaper with a skull face on the left and a winged woman with long flowing hair on the right, holding a rosary. Hourglasses and a clock-like circle sit above them, and a large skeletal hand reaches across the lower back. Fine shading and smooth gradients are used throughout, with cloud and ship details continuing onto the upper arm and forearm.

Realism Back Upper arm Forearm Grim reaper Skull Skeleton Hourglass Angel Wing Woman Rosary Cloud Ship Hood

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Agnes Thorne had the ovens lit before the church bell finished striking four, and she was shaping the third tray of tin loaves when the back door opened without a knock. The man who came in had to stoop under the lintel. His hood was up and his hands were bare bone, and he set a glass hourglass on her flour sack as if it were a customer's order.

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"The sand's run down for the miller's boy," he said. "I've come for the one who sleeps in the loft." Agnes did not look up from her dough. She pressed her knuckles into it and said the boy had been put to bed with a hot brick and a cough, and the reaper could take his business to the infirmary, which had more beds and fewer children in them. He seemed to consider this. Behind him the window went grey, and a woman with long wet hair and folded wings stood in the yard holding a string of black beads.

"You've a bargain to make first," the woman said, her voice as patient as flour. "Every hour he sleeps, you lose one from your own glass." Agnes wiped her hands on her apron. "Then I'll bake, and you'll wait, the pair of you, until the loaves come out. A man doesn't take his dinner before it's ready." The reaper laughed like dry twigs. The angel's beads clicked one at a time as she counted the trays.

By sunrise the bread sat cooling on the sill in neat rows, and the hourglass on the sack had run nearly clear. The reaper lifted a loaf, turned it over, and tucked it under his cloak. "Warm," he said, as if surprised. He left the glass behind. Agnes turned it over, watched the sand begin its slow fall, and climbed the loft ladder to see the boy breathe.