Black ink drawing on lined paper of a fine-line heartbeat trace running into a heart with a cross through it, with the words colossians 2:13 written beneath.

Heartbeat line with heart and cross design

Fine line · Black and grey · Flash

A hand-drawn tattoo design on lined paper showing a continuous heartbeat line that loops into an outlined heart containing a cross. The linework is thin and even, with the cross drawn in a slightly heavier stroke, and the words colossians 2:13 are written in small handwritten lettering below the line. The image is entirely black ink on white, with a plain composition centred on the design.

Fine line Heartbeat Heart Cross

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Put the kettle on, and don't look at me like that, I've not got to the bit with the boat yet. The island had a doctor for three hundred souls and a lifeboat for emergencies, and on the night Iain Mhor went over the rocks at Sgeir Dubh, the doctor was on the mainland and the wind was doing its worst.

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They brought him up the slip at two in the morning, grey as the slate, and Nessa Macrae, who had nursed in Glasgow before she came home to keep the shop, knelt on the wet stones and pressed her hands to his chest. She counted out loud because counting was what she had. The lifeboat's lamp swung across the pair of them. Nothing. Then, on the forty-first count, a flicker on the little green screen Dougie had carried down from the surgery, a line that jumped and stumbled and found its feet again.

Afterwards, folk said the strangest thing was Iain's ledger. He kept every debt on the island in a black book under the counter at the bothy: who owed for diesel, who owed for the ferry fare, who owed him a favour from 1987 that nobody remembered agreeing to. The morning after the rescue, Nessa found it open on the bench, and beside the last entry someone had drawn a small heart with a cross through it, and a line running off the edge of the page like a pulse. Nobody ever admitted to drawing it.

He lived, obviously, or I wouldn't be telling you. He tore out every page that week and fed them to the stove, and he never once asked anybody what they owed him again. Go on, drink your tea. The book's still in the drawer if you want a look at the drawing.