Black and grey script lettering reading Hope on the inside of a wrist, beside a beaded bracelet.

Hope script lettering on a wrist

Lettering · Hand · Black and grey · Photo

A black and grey photograph of the word Hope written in a cursive script tattoo across the inner wrist. The lettering has smooth, confident strokes with some shading along the letter edges. A silver beaded bracelet sits just above the tattoo, and the background is dark and softly out of focus.

Lettering Hand Hope Script Word Wrist Bracelet

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Dear Ysolde,

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The abbot has finally let me near the good ink. For three weeks I have ruled lines in the scriptorium at Fenmere, pricking the margins with a compass and scraping vellum until my fingers bled, and yesterday Brother Anselm set a single word in front of me and told me to copy it until my hand stopped shaking. The word was Hope. Not in the great black letters we use for psalms, but in the running hand the lay clerks use for letters to the bishop, leaning forward as if it were in a hurry to get somewhere.

I wrote it forty times before vespers. The first dozen were stiff, every stroke a small apology. Anselm rapped the desk and said the H must be made in one breath, its loop left open like a gate, and the o must never be closed at all. Then the p dropped below the line and I was to let it go, trusting the ink to find its own way back. By the thirtieth I had stopped counting and simply followed the curve of the pen, and the word came out lighter than anything I have ever made.

Anselm studied the sheet for a long while and then dusted it with sand. He said nothing about the letters. He only said that the word is harder to write when you are not certain of the next one, and that a scribe who waits for certainty will wait in the cold a long time. Then he folded the page into his sleeve and carried it off to be bound into the abbot's book.

I am writing this by the window while the ink dries on my cuff. Tell Father I am warm enough and eating well, and that I have not yet blotted anything I was proud of.

Your loving brother, Edrin