Black handwritten lettering tattoo reading Thuder Only Happens When Its Raisin across the lower back, above the waistband of blue denim jeans.

Handwritten quote on lower back

Lettering · Back · Black and grey · Photo

Three lines of black handwritten script read Thuder Only Happens When Its Raisin, spelled as it appears on the skin. The lettering has uneven, slanted strokes with some shading in the thicker parts of the letters. The text sits on pale skin above the waistband of blue jeans, with a hand resting near the denim at the right edge of the frame.

Lettering Back Text Quote Handwriting Rain

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The sign had hung on the lych gate of Wendle Hollow since before the great drought, painted by the parish clerk, Amos Thirkell, who was paid in cider and never learned to spell past his own surname. Every villager read it aloud on the way to church: Thuder Only Happens When Its Raisin. Nobody corrected it. The thunder had always come when the rain did, and the rain had always come when it was ready.

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Then the mill stream went to a thread of mud, and the oaks at the forest edge held their leaves stiff as paper. Mabel Yeo, who kept bees by the stile, walked down with a pot of whitewash and a brush, meaning to fix the words before the parish blamed the sign for the dry weather. She stood before the gate a long while. The letters looked back at her, crooked and certain, and she found she could not paint over them without feeling she was painting over someone's grandmother.

So she went into the forest instead, to the hollow oak where the old folk said the weather was kept in a stoneware jar. The jar was there, dusty and sealed with wax. Under its lid someone had scratched the same words, the same misspelling, in the same slanting hand. Mabel understood then that thunder had never cared for good spelling, only for someone who believed the words enough to write them down.

She carried the jar home under her shawl and broke the wax at the gate. That evening the sky split open over Wendle Hollow, and the rain ran down the painted boards until Thuder and Raisin dissolved into the lane, grey streaks in the mud. The village spent a week reading the sign with their boots, and nobody complained about the spelling again.