Black and grey tattoo of a pin-up style figure with an exposed ribcage and shaded roses on the upper thigh, shown on a person lying on a white bed.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Pin-up figure with ribcage and roses on thigh

Thigh · Black and grey · Photo

A pin-up style female figure sits at the centre of the design, with a skeletal ribcage shown in white over her torso and a pale shaded area beneath. Two shaded roses with leaves sit below the figure, and the linework and grey shading are soft and smooth. The tattoo is photographed on an upper thigh against ripped black denim and white bedding, with the rest of the body cropped out of frame.

Thigh Pin-up Skeleton Ribcage Rose Figure Leaves

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The calendar had hung behind the dairy door since before the tractor was electric, and Ruth only took it down because February damp had got into the nail and the card was going soft at the corners. Frost lay white across the yard. She carried it to the kitchen table, where the paraffin heater ticked and her brother's boots steamed by the range.

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The girl on the page wore a red bow and sat on a fence rail with her chin resting on one wrist, a bunch of grey roses tucked at her hip as though someone had just handed them over. Ruth had seen her every winter of her childhood and never looked properly. Now she saw the pencil lines under the paint, and a ribcage sketched in white over the girl's middle, each rib curving like the tines of a hay rake. Someone had drawn it in after the printing, neat as a seam.

Her father had given the calendar pride of place, and her father had never been a man who drew. Ruth turned the card over. On the back, in his square capitals, were the dates the heifers calved and one date he had circled twice, the week before the thaw that took him. The white ribs were fresher than the rest of the ink, as if somebody had been keeping the outline up to date.

She pinned the page back on its nail, roses facing the door, and went out to break the ice on the trough. The cold went straight through her gloves. When she came back the heater had gone out, and the calendar lay face up on the table, the ribs catching the last grey light from the window like something left burning for her.