Owl with Proverbs banner on a forearm
Traditional · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo
A front-facing owl with wide, intense eyes and layered feather detail fills the forearm, its talons gripping a curled banner. The bold outlines are softened by smooth grey shading across the wings, chest and tail feathers. The banner's lettering reads Proverbs 3v, and the tattoo is centred on the forearm against a plain skin background.
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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction
Dunstan had the ovens lit by half three, the way his mother had, and the first tray of bloomers was already cooling when Maggie came through the back door shaking rain from her headscarf. "Owl's on the wall again," she said, not looking up from the flour sacks she was folding. "Staring at the proving cabinet like it owes her rent."
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He took the peel out into the yard. The bird sat on the brick wall above the bins, feathers puffed against the drizzle, its eyes two hard amber rings fixed on him. It had been there every morning since the start of the month, and every morning he had tossed it a heel of yesterday's loaf, which it ignored. Inside, the old ledger sat on the shelf by the till, its pages gone soft at the corners. His grandfather had written the names of people who could not pay, and beside each one a single word: carry. Dunstan had never crossed one out. He had simply stopped opening the book.
He went back in and pulled it down. Near the bottom of the page was Tom Aske, owed for six weeks of bread since the mill shut, and beneath it nothing, because Dunstan had not had the nerve to write the figure. He wrapped two cobs and a split tin in brown paper, wrote carry in pencil, and set the parcel on the step.
When the sky went the colour of weak tea, the owl lifted off the wall without a sound. Tom came up the lane with his hands in his pockets, stopped at the gate, and looked at the parcel for a long time before he picked it up. Dunstan watched the bird's shadow slide across the flour-dusted window and settle, somewhere out of sight, on the roof.
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