Black and grey tattoo of a revolver wrapped in a ribbon bow on the upper thigh, with the wearer in red socks and a pink top.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Revolver wrapped in a bow on a thigh

Thigh · Black and grey · Photo

A black and grey tattoo of a revolver with a bow or ribbon wrapped around its barrel and grip sits on the outer upper thigh. The linework is clean and the shading uses soft greys to show the metal and the folds of the ribbon. The photo is taken casually at an angle, with the person's legs and red socks visible beside the tattoo and no face shown.

Thigh Revolver Gun Bow Ribbon

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Sit down, the lot of you, and keep your hands off that kettle till it's boiled. I'll tell it once and I'll tell it straight, the way my father told it to me on this same deck. The Marigold was tied up at Bell Lock the winter the river froze to the gunwales, and aboard her lived a widow called Nan Hasell, who kept a revolver in the flour bin under a tea towel.

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Nobody on the towpath knew why. Nan said it was her late husband's and she'd no use for it, but she'd never let it go to the pawnbroker in Stourport. She had a length of blue silk ribbon wound round the grip and tied in a bow as neat as a bride's. Children dared each other to touch it. Constable Orme came down once to ask about it and went back up the bank with a slice of seed cake and no questions at all.

The thaw came in March with a rush of brown water that tore the mooring rings from the bank. The Marigold broke loose in the night and went drifting toward the weir, and Nan stood in the wheelhouse with the gun in one hand and the bin lid in the other. She wasn't threatening anyone. She was showing the river she wasn't afraid of it. Then she set the revolver on the cabin roof, worked the bow loose with her teeth, and let the ribbon go out over the water like a little blue boat ahead of her.

The barge struck the shingle below the weir at first light. The ribbon had caught on a willow root a furlong down and hung there all summer, fluttering whenever a boat came through. Nan never went looking for it. She said a thing that's been given to the river doesn't need fetching back, and she kept the bin lid on the shelf after that, with nothing under it but flour.