Black and grey script tattoo reading When I am afraid, I will trust in you, with Psalm 56:3 beneath, on the inner forearm near the wrist.

Psalm 56:3 script quote on forearm

Lettering · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A black-and-grey photograph of the inner forearm and wrist, with a silver link watch strap on the wrist. The tattoo is a single line of cursive script reading "When I am afraid, I will trust in you", with "Psalm 56:3" in smaller script beneath it. The lettering is solid black with clean, fine edges, set against plain pale skin and a dark background.

Lettering Forearm Quote Scripture Psalm Script Text

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The fog came off the water at Hungerford just as the lock gates groaned shut behind you, and by the time the boat sank level you could not see the bow. Your uncle's narrowboat, the Marigold, had never been steered by anyone frightened of her, and you were frightened of her now. The engine note dropped and caught, dropped and caught, as if it were counting something you had not been told about.

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Uncle Ray had left you the boat and a biscuit tin of paperwork. Tucked under the licence was a card in his square capitals: WHEN I AM AFRAID. Nothing else. He had never been one for church, so you had gone looking for the rest at the chapel in Reading, where a volunteer with a pencil behind her ear thumbed through a pew Bible and read it aloud. When I am afraid, I will trust in you. Psalm fifty-six, verse three. You wrote the reference on the back of the card in your own careful hand, because the tin had taught you that a man's handwriting is only half the message.

A horn sounded somewhere ahead, long and low, and then a voice came out of the grey: 'Keep left, keep left, you're on the shallows.' You could not see the speaker or the other boat, only the bank sliding past as a darker shape and the reeds whispering against the hull. You put the tiller over and trusted the voice, because it was the only thing out there that knew where the river went.

At Newbury the fog thinned to milk and then to nothing. The other boat was a green hull with a woman standing on its roof, lifting one hand as you passed. You took the card out of your coat pocket. The damp had blurred the ink at the edges, but the words were still readable, and you read them once more before you tucked it away.