Black lettering tattoo forming a leaping rabbit silhouette across a person's upper back, in a lettering style with flowing script.

Rabbit silhouette formed from lettering on a back

Lettering · Back · Black and grey · Photo

A black ink tattoo across the upper back shows a leaping rabbit silhouette built entirely from flowing handwritten script. The words fill the body of the rabbit and follow its ears, legs and raised arm, with a few lines of text legible within the shape. The image is black ink on skin only, shot close and straight on, with the design filling most of the frame.

Lettering Back Rabbit Text Script Quote

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Sit closer, the fire's only good for the front bench. You want my adventures? They begin this morning, and I'll not pretend otherwise, because yesterday I was a different man entirely, a clerk with ink under his nails and no notion of what the snow was for.

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The hare came down the lane before the bells for Lauds, or what passes for bells in Cold Ashby. Long-legged, leaping through the drifts, and when she turned her head I saw she was written all over. Words ran down her flanks in a looping hand I knew from the parish registers. Every line had been copied out by somebody patient, and every line seemed to be running off the page to find a body to live in. She sat under the water butt in the Fallow Hart's yard as if she paid rent there.

I followed her with a lantern and a bad temper. Her tracks were printed behind her, but when I bent down they were not paw marks. They were words, the same words, pressed into the snow the way a child presses a sentence with a stick. I read them aloud, and the cold took the breath out of each one before it reached the end.

She stopped at the gate and lifted a foreleg, and on it, small as a seal, was my own name. I had not written it there. I looked down at my hand and the ink had gone from my fingers. So that's my adventure, and no use asking me to go back for yesterday. The hare went over the wall, the snow filled her tracks, and in the morning there was only a sentence on the gatepost in a hand that was not mine, asking whether I'd come far enough to find out who I'd become.