Black lettering tattoo in a serif typeface reading 'There is a light that never goes out', running diagonally along the inner forearm.

Quote tattoo along a forearm

Lettering · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A close photograph of a forearm carrying a black tattoo of the words 'There is a light that never goes out' in a serif typeface, running diagonally from the wrist side towards the elbow. The lettering is solid black with no shading, and the skin tone and dark background keep the focus on the text. The photo is taken indoors against a dark cloth and a floral bedding pattern in soft pinks and blues.

Lettering Forearm Quote Text Script

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The rain had been falling on Saltergate market since the Tuesday, and by the Friday the canvas roofs sagged like wet sheets. Mara Pell sold paraffin lamps from a trestle at the far end, where the cobbles dipped and the puddles stayed all day. Nobody bought lamps in weather like that. They bought bread, thread and gossip, and they went home before the lamplighters came round.

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On the last market day an old man pushed a handcart through the gap by the fishmongers. It held a single glass globe the size of a pumpkin, and inside it a flame stood perfectly still, though nothing fed it. He said it would not go out so long as she did not put it out herself. Mara offered him three coppers. He wanted five, then settled for two and a heel of yesterday's loaf, and when she looked up again the cart had gone, and the cobbles where it stood were already filling with water.

The flood came in the spring, quick and brown, and it took the market in a night. Mara woke with water at her bed and carried the globe out through the back of the shop with the light held high. Neighbours clung to the railings on Cutler's Row. She walked them up the hill one by one, the flame steady in the glass, and the rain came down so hard it hissed on the glass and never once touched the light.

When the last family was safe she sat on the church steps and set the globe down beside her. It did not flicker. Above the roofs the water was still rising, grey and patient, but the light stayed where it was. She has kept it on her table ever since, though she has never once put it out, and when the rain comes she still walks to the window to check that it is burning.