Traditional-style tattoo on an arm of a hand holding an hourglass, with a yellow rose, green leaves, seed pods and a red background.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Hand holding hourglass with yellow rose

Traditional · Forearm · Mixed · Photo

A pale hand rises from the bottom of the design to hold an hourglass with a grey shaded top and a blue-edged base. A yellow rose with bold black outlines sits behind it, with green leaves, three green seed pods at the top left and a pink rose in the upper right corner. Bold black outlines and flat areas of solid colour dominate, with the red background behind the central motif.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The clock over platform two had stopped at ten past four the winter the coal ran out, so Mrs Hebden timed the trains with the hourglass her husband had carried home from a sale at Carlisle. It had a brass cap and a grey sand that never looked quite clean. Each time the bell rang at the crossing she lifted the glass with both hands, turned it, and watched the first thin thread start to fall, and by the time it had emptied the down express was always under the bridge.

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Her husband had planted the yellow rose by the signal box the summer they married. It grew up the post and over the wire, and in June it bled through the gaps in the fence until the porters had to cut it back with their penknives. Nobody cut the seed pods. Mrs Hebden said they were for the birds, and the birds did not seem to mind.

On a Tuesday in October a man in a grey coat stepped off the late train with no bag and asked her for a ticket to nowhere in particular. He wanted, he said, to be somewhere the hours did not count. She looked at him for a long moment, then turned the glass over and set it on the ledge between them. "It only counts what it is given," she said. "Then it starts again. That is all a glass is for."

He stood beside her until the sand had run out. Then he went back up the platform and climbed aboard the next train without a ticket, and she did not stop him. She turned the glass once more for the empty track, and a petal from the rose fell onto the sleeper at her feet.

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