Black script lettering reading i am not afraid to walk this world alone, tattooed across the inner wrist and forearm of a hand held up against greenery.

Quote tattoo along the inner wrist

Lettering · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A hand is raised against a blurred green background, showing a line of black script text across the inner wrist. The words read i am not afraid to walk this world alone, set in a handwritten style over three lines with a slight slant. The ink is solid black on the skin, and the soft natural light keeps the composition simple.

Lettering Forearm Quote Script Handwriting Text

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

At ten past three the corridor lights on Ward 9 dropped to their night setting, and Gwen Hollis sat at the desk chewing the cap of a biro while the discharge forms waited in a grey tray. Mr Abney had left his reading glasses on the trolley again. Someone had written on the back of an observation chart in a slanted hand, and she had almost binned it before she saw it was not a note about his blood pressure.

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The line ran down the margin in three lines: i am not afraid to walk this world alone. It was the careful writing a schoolteacher drilled into children in the 1950s, loops closed, capitals avoided. She knew the hand. It belonged to Mrs Tully in bed four, who had taken the pen from her bedside cabinet every evening for a fortnight and written in a notebook nobody was allowed to read.

Gwen tried to work out who else could have copied it. Mrs Tully's daughter was not due until seven with a flask of tea. Dev the porter had been in and out with bloods. Nobody had asked for a witness. She carried the chart down the corridor and found Mrs Tully awake, the notebook open on the blanket, a dozen lines of the same sentence filling the page, each one a little shakier than the last.

"I wanted to see if I could still make the letters lean the right way," Mrs Tully said. "Sit down, love, you look like you've been up all night." Gwen sat on the edge of the chair. Outside the window the car park lights buzzed and a blackbird started early on the bins. She took the pen, signed her own name at the foot of the chart in the same slant, and for once it looked like handwriting that had been taught by someone who meant it.