Enlarged with AI from a smaller original
Grim reaper with scythe and heart on a calf
Traditional · Calf · Mixed · Photo
A grim reaper in a black hooded robe holds a long scythe and gestures towards a red heart with an arrow through it, with orange accents along the robe. The design has bold black outlines and solid black fill, with flat red and orange colour and light dot shading along the scythe handle and robe edges. It is centred on a plain skin surface against a brick wall.
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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction
Mind the loose stone, and keep your voices down, for the wind up here carries them straight to the chapel, and the jackdaws don't like to be disturbed. Alder Venn, steward of Caddon Keep, had cheated at cards for forty winters and never once been caught with his sleeves rolled up. That was his great boast, and he made it every night to the rats in the kitchen.
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The night the Grim Lodger came, the moon was a thin paring over the moat. Alder heard the scythe before he saw it, a long whisper dragging through the nettles. The reaper stood in the doorway with his hood pulled close and the blade resting against his shoulder like a walking stick. When Alder reached for the dice, the reaper only lifted one bony hand and pointed at the stair. On the third step lay a little red heart, pierced clean through by an arrow, still damp as though it had only just been torn free.
Alder knew that heart. He had carved its twin into a sycamore beam for Nell Ashdown the summer she turned seventeen, then wagered the real one away to a travelling Dutchman for a single hand of cards and a grey mare. Nell had married the miller years since. The reaper had come for the wager, not the man, and a wager was a wager. Alder begged for one more hand. The reaper, who had never once refused a game, sat down on the step and laid out the cards.
They played until the candle guttered. Alder cheated, of course, and the reaper let him, which was the cruellest thing Alder had ever seen. At first light the steward was found sitting on the stair with a full hand and nothing in his chest, the scythe propped beside him with its curve catching the dawn. The heart had gone, and so had the reaper, but the beam in the hall still bears Nell's name, and nobody at Caddon has played a hand on that stair since.
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