Two matching black and grey tattoos on inner forearms, each showing a seated cartoon creature in soft shading beside the word OHANA in thin lettering.

Matching Stitch and Ohana forearm tattoos

Lettering · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

Two forearms are pressed together, each carrying a matching tattoo of a small seated cartoon character drawn in soft grey shading with a pencil-like finish. The word OHANA sits beside each figure in thin, clean black capitals. The tattoos are black and grey with no colour ink, and the shot is framed close on the forearms against a plain background.

Lettering Forearm Stitch Ohana Cartoon character Lettering Matching tattoo

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The cage stuck at the fourth level with a shudder that rattled the teeth in Megan's head, and for a long moment nobody on the pit-head platform spoke. Her brother Owen was still below, one shift from finishing, and the rope had gone slack in a way her father did not like.

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Her mother kept a drawing folded in her apron pocket. Megan had found it in March, a sheet of cartridge paper with a blue-grey creature on it, small and lopsided, sitting with its knees up as if waiting to be asked in. Underneath, in her mother's careful hand, was the word OHANA. Megan had asked what it meant. Her mother said it came from a film Owen had watched a hundred times in the front room, and that it meant family, and that nobody got left behind. Owen had laughed and called her soft.

Gareth from the next shift came up grey with dust and said the roof had held at the junction, that they had gone back for the lad in the side heading and found him sitting on an upturned tub, eating a cold pasty as though it were a Sunday. Then the cage shivered again and began to rise, slowly, and her mother's hand came down flat on the wet iron of the guard rail, not holding on, just touching it, the way you might touch a dog to check it was still there.

Owen stepped out last, blinking, his lamp still lit and his grin wider than it had any right to be. Megan did not say anything clever. She took the folded drawing from her mother's pocket, smoothed it on the bench, and traced the little creature with one finger until her mother took her hand away. The following Saturday the three of them sat in a back room on Commercial Street, and the man with the machine asked which of them wanted to go first, and Megan held out her arm before anyone could answer.