Black linework tattoo on the inner forearm of a person in a green top, showing an outlined heart with a cross inside, an infinity loop and an anchor.

Heart, cross, infinity and anchor on a forearm

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A black ink tattoo on the inner forearm combines an outlined heart containing a small cross, a looping infinity line running down the arm, and a solid anchor near the wrist. The lines are fine and even, with the heart and loop drawn in a thin outline and the anchor filled in. The photograph is taken from the side at a slight angle, with the wrist and a hand visible at the bottom of the frame.

Fine line Forearm Heart Cross Infinity Anchor

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The lintel came out of the chapel rubble on a Tuesday, face down in wet nettles, and Hal Grieve knelt in the mud for a full minute before he would let anyone lift it. His daughter Nell held the flask and waited, sulking a little about the tide, while he brushed the grit from the carving with the side of his thumb.

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A heart, pointed at the top, with a small cross standing upright inside it like a mast in a bottle. From the heart's lower point a line ran out and looped back on itself, then looped again, the way a child draws a figure eight without lifting the pencil. At the far end of the line sat an anchor, its flukes worn almost smooth by two hundred winters of salt wind.

'Sailor's mark,' Nell said. 'Or a wife's.' The parish book in the ferryman's cottage had an entry for a Catriona Sim, widowed off the Skerry in the winter of 1794, who had paid the mason to cut a stone 'to hold what the sea would not.' Hal read it twice by the stove, then a third time, as if the words might rearrange themselves if he gave them the chance.

They set the lintel back over the chapel door that week, the cross turned towards the path so anyone leaving would see it first. On the last afternoon Nell climbed the scaffold alone and ran her thumb along the loop. It went round and round and never came to an end, and she found herself counting the turns the way the widow must have counted the boats coming home.