Black and grey realism tattoo of praying hands wrapped in a rosary in front of a cross, with banners reading Only God Can Judge Me, on the back.

Praying hands, rosary and banner tattoo

Realism · Back · Black and grey · Photo

The tattoo shows a pair of praying hands with beads of a rosary draped through them, set in front of a shaded cross. Two curled banners run above and below the central motif, reading ONLY GOD and CAN JUDGE ME in blackletter-style lettering. The work uses smooth grey shading and highlights for depth, with no colour ink, and the design is photographed on a skin tone surface.

Realism Lettering Back Praying hands Rosary Cross Banner Lettering

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Pete from the wholesaler has come in early again, and he wants to know why the tin loaves are still cooling at half past four. You keep your hands in the dough. Twelve years in this bakery have taught you to let a man finish talking before you answer. Your nan's rosary hangs from a nail above the proofing cabinet, its little brass cross catching the bulb, and Pete's eyes keep sliding toward it as if it might bite.

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'You're not even Catholic,' he says. 'Nan was,' you tell him. 'I'm just keeping her beads dry.' He laughs, but it comes out thin. He is behind on his invoices and you both know it, and he has been leaning on Mrs Okafor's account, the one you swore you would never let slip. You fold the dough over itself, once, twice, and say the line you have been rehearsing since midnight. 'I'll square it by Friday. Past that, only God can judge me.'

He goes quiet, then snorts and heads out to his van, muttering about the ring road. The window over the sink begins to grey. You wipe the bench, flour settling into the creases of your knuckles, and pick up the beads, counting them the way Nan taught you, one for every promise you mean to keep.

By the time the first delivery van pulls up outside, the bread is out, blistered and crackling on the racks, and the rosary is warm in your palm. Friday comes round. You pay Pete in full, in cash, and he doesn't look at the cross once. The ledger is square now, and you walk home past the church on the corner with flour still on your sleeves.