Black typewriter-style lettering reading I am the hero of this story on the inner wrist of a raised, clenched fist against a dark background.

Quote on the wrist: I am the hero of this story

Lettering · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A close view of a raised, clenched fist with a short two-line quote on the inner wrist, reading I am the hero of this story. The lettering is solid black in a typewriter-style serif, with clean, even strokes. The pale skin contrasts sharply with the dark blurred background, and the text sits small and centred on the wrist.

Lettering Forearm Quote Text Typewriter font Fist

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Nell Corran typed the letter at the back of the chandlery on Gull Quay, where the smell of tar and paraffin crept under the door and settled on the keys. The council wanted the slipway sold to a man from Bristol who meant to put flats where the nets were dried. Four drafts had gone to the co-op chairman, and four had come back with the same paragraph struck through in blue pencil. Too much like a boast, he had written. Nobody will believe it.

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She fed a fresh sheet and carbon into the Remington, its ribbon grey at the edges, and looked at the sentence she had copied onto a scrap of card the night before. I am the hero of this story. She had found it pencilled in the margin of a dead woman's almanac on the shelf above the paraffin tins, under a note about the wind backing west. Nell had meant to laugh at it. Instead she had pinned it above the till, where it had hung for a month like a bet nobody had placed.

At seven the harbour lights came on one by one, and the trawler Margery Ann came round the breakwater low in the water, her deckhands shouting across to the quay. The chairman's car pulled up outside. He came in shaking rain from his collar and asked whether the letter was ready.

She pulled the sheet from the platen, read it through once, and signed her name at the bottom in full. 'Read the struck line, then the one under it,' she said. 'If you still want it cut, I'll stand up at the meeting and say it myself, and you can explain to the Bristol man why he is the villain.' He read both lines twice. For the first time in a month he did not reach for his pencil.