Pencil drawing of an ornate pocket watch with Roman numerals, acanthus scrollwork casing and a visible movement, drawn as a tattoo design with no body placement shown.

Ornate pocket watch design in pencil

Black and grey · Flash

A detailed pencil sketch of a pocket watch with a decorative ring bow, a scrolled acanthus-style casing and a clear face with Roman numerals and ornate hands. The face is partly open to show gears and a movement, with soft shading and light rays across the glass. The drawing is in greyscale on plain paper and is centred on the page.

Pocket watch Clock Roman numeral Scrollwork Gear Clock hand

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Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Sit closer, the lot of you, the fire only warms the front row. No, Tobias, that is not a watch, that is a crust you found in a bin. Now listen. When the Thames came over the Deptford wall for the last time, nobody thought to save the bread or the books. Ines Harrow saved a pocket watch, its silver gone to pewter, its casing curled over like acanthus leaves on a church door. She carried it up nine flights to the roof of the old Admiralty tower, because that was where the sun arrived first.

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Every dawn she wound it, eased open the back and let the light run through the gears, and the glass flung its rays out over the flood like the spokes of a cart wheel turning the wrong way. The Roman numerals had worn so soft that she taught the children to read them with their thumbs. The hands were black and tooled like iron lace, and they pointed at the hour the water had reached the wall. Ines said that was no kind of time to be stuck on, but it was the only time she trusted.

One grey morning a girl from the north shore climbed the stairs with a sack of seed potatoes and asked what time it was. Ines held the watch out in both palms. The girl squinted at the frozen hands, then at the sea, and gave a short laugh. Ines did not laugh. She said the sea would tell her if she only stood still long enough, and she tapped the glass until the girl shut up and looked.

There, inside, every wheel was turning. Small and patient, they had been counting all along, even while the hands stood still. The girl stared for a long while, then set down her potatoes and started to climb back down, slower than she had come up. That is why the rays still go out across the water each morning, my darlings, and why you lot are going to bed now.