Close-up of simple black lettering reading Mt 19:6 tattooed along a finger, with a silver ring on the finger beside it.

Mt 19:6 lettering on a finger

Lettering · Hand · Black and grey · Photo

A hand with black lettering reading Mt 19:6 tattooed along one finger, the characters set in a simple, slightly uneven hand-drawn style. The ink is solid black with no shading, and the photograph has a warm, faded tone against a pale speckled surface. The finger fills the centre of the frame, with a silver ring with a small stone on the adjacent finger and the hand angled toward the lower right.

Lettering Hand Lettering Text Number Scripture reference Finger Hand

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The two oaks had grown from one root at the edge of Hollin Wood, so the tithe man said, before anybody's grandfather could remember. By the time I came to the village to take the felling contract, they stood as a single trunk for the height of a man, then parted like a fork in a lane, each limb reaching for its own patch of sky. Mother Ashby had lived beside them for sixty years and would not have them touched.

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"They were never meant to split," she said, handing me a cup of cold tea at her gate. "Only the wind did that." I told her the lower wood had gone soft and the upper limbs would come down in the first autumn gale and take her roof with them. She looked at the place where the bark had folded over itself. "Then cut the lot," she said, "but mind the grain. Mind where they join."

I found the seam on the third morning, a pale ridge where the two trunks had been pressed together and healed into one body. The saw skipped on it. I went in with the wedge and the maul, and when the wood finally gave, the heartwood ran straight through the join, unbroken, as if the two trees had never been anything but one. I counted the rings on the cut face out of habit. Forty-one years, both sides of the seam, no gap at all.

I left the joined trunk standing and took down only the dead limbs above it. When I came back for my tools, Mother Ashby was already at the stump with a strip of red ribbon in her fist. The next spring a single green shoot came up out of the seam, and she tied the ribbon around it so I would not mow it down with the rest of the grass.