Realistic skull in smoke on the back of a hand
Realism · Hand · Black and grey · Photo
A realistic human skull is shown across the back of a hand, with its eye sockets and jaw in deep black shadow. Soft, wispy shading surrounds the skull, suggesting smoke or fabric pulling across the bone. The work uses only black ink and grey tones, with fine highlights on the bone edges, and the hand is photographed against a plain black background.
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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction
The fire had burned since dawn on the far field, where we'd dragged the blackthorn cuttings into a heap taller than the tractor. My father always said never to stir a bonfire in a hard frost, because the cold keeps the smoke low and it hangs over the ground as if it is looking for something. I was seventeen and didn't listen. I took the long fork and turned the heap, and a wind came off the ridge and tore the smoke open.
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Underneath, half-charred and grey as the sky, was a skull. Not a sheep's, not a badger's. It had a proper human jaw, and the brow was smoothed by years in wet clay. The smoke wrapped round it like a sheet being drawn off a bed, slow and curling, and where it thinned I could see the shine along the cheekbones. I shouted for my father. He came out in his boots with no coat and stood at the edge of the heat for a long while without speaking.
'Your grandmother's brother went to the war from this field,' he said at last. 'They never sent him back, and we never found him either.' We left the skull in the ash and dropped a sack over it. Neither of us wanted to say what we both thought, which was that the smoke had been gathering over that spot for years before anyone lit a match.
At first light the frost had come back hard. The heap was grey and still, the sack stiff and white, and the field was clear of smoke for the first time all winter. Across the frozen furrows ran a line of small bare prints from the ash to the gate. The gate was latched on the inside.
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