Black fine line script tattoo reading miles to go, sitting along the side of the torso below a dark garment hem.

Miles to go in script on the side

Fine line · Ribs · Black and grey · Photo

The tattoo spells out the words miles to go in a flowing, joined cursive script. The linework is thin and even, in solid black ink with no shading, and the lettering runs across the skin at a slight upward angle. The photograph is close and straight on, with the tattoo centred and a dark garment edge across the top of the frame.

Fine line Lettering Ribs Script Quote Word

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The last bus left the top road at ten past ten, and you watched its tail lights swim down the valley without you. Eleven miles of wet tarmac stood between the colliery gate and your mother's door in Corrie Bank, and your boots already felt like they belonged to somebody older. Behind you the winding wheel had gone still. Nobody else was waiting, only Eddie Rhys in the lamp room, pulling the shutter down over the brass checks.

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He looked at you over his spectacles. "Walking?" You nodded. He said nothing for a while, then took a pencil stub from behind his ear, wrote two words on the back of a tally card and pressed it into your palm. Miles to go. "Frost wrote that," he said. "Old deputy I knew used to read it out at the start of every back shift, like it was the weather." You said you had never heard of Frost. "Doesn't matter. Just keep the card dry."

The road climbed past the spoil heaps, and the rain thinned to a fine grey drizzle that hung in your lamp beam like flour. Past the reservoir a fox crossed in front of you, stopped, considered you, and went on at its own pace. You counted the gateposts, then the cattle grids, then gave up and simply walked, the card going soft in your pocket each time you touched it.

At the milestone that read CORRIE 4 you stopped and took the card out. The pencil had run in the wet, but the words were still there, leaning against each other like tired men at a bus stop. You put it back, took one step, then the next, and the lights of Corrie Bank came up through the drizzle one window at a time, as if somebody had been keeping them on for you all along.