Dark lace-patterned tattoo wrapping around the wrist and onto the back of a hand.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Lace design across wrist and hand

Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A lace-style ornamental design with scrolls, petals and a central fan-like motif covers the wrist and extends onto the back of the hand. The linework is fine and the ink is dark, with a pinkish tone on the upper section that may come from lighting or skin tone. The design is set against a plain dark background, with the hand angled diagonally across the frame.

Forearm Hand Lace Ornament Scroll Floral motif Fan

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Sit nearer the fire, and mind the dog, he has his eye on your boots. No, I'll not tell it with the wireless on. This wants the cold, the way it was the winter the lane drifted shut above Harrow Gate and the ewes came down off the fell with snow on their backs like old men's coats.

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Nell Garrow sat at her mother's pillow by one tallow candle, the bobbins clicking through her fingers like a clock that had lost its nerve. The wedding lace was owed to the squire's daughter by Candlemas, a fan of it for the bride's wrist and a scroll that ran up toward the elbow, all petals and little open eyes. Her mother had drawn the pattern on a scrap of brown paper years before and pricked it out with a needle, and Nell kept it pinned beside her, soft as bread at the folds.

On the third night the pattern went wrong. One petal had been pricked twice and the thread would not sit in it. She tried it four times, cursing under her breath, until the candle guttered and she had to go to the window for light. There the frost had grown across the glass in fern shapes, fine and branching, with a fan of its own in the corner where the cold came through the sash. She stood there with her breath on the pane, tracing it with a fingernail, and found the missing petal, curled and open, exactly where the frost had left it.

By morning the lace was finished and she pinned it to the window to dry. The low sun came through the threads and the frost outside took hold of its edges, so the two patterns lay on the glass one over the other, neither quite sure which had been first. The squire's daughter wore it at Candlemas. Nell never told her where the petal came from, and I'll not tell you either, though you have seen that window yourself, so you know where to look.