Black and grey realism tattoo of a rosary with a crucifix hanging from a wrist and forearm, with an Eye of Horus tattoo on the upper arm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Rosary and crucifix on a forearm

Realism · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A hand grips a realistic black and grey rosary tattoo that drapes over the wrist and forearm, ending in a detailed crucifix with a shaded corpus. Soft, fine shading gives the beads and metal cross a three-dimensional, almost sculpted look. Behind the arm, a patterned dark wallpaper frames the shot, and a separate Eye of Horus tattoo sits on the upper arm of the person in a black top.

Realism Forearm Hand Upper arm Rosary Eye of horus

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The rosary came out of the bed of rhubarb on the second Tuesday of March, when the frost had heaved the soil up like a loaf. I was on my knees with a fork, expecting worms, and what I got was a bead the colour of wet slate, then another, then the little silver cross swinging from my fingers as if someone had been waiting underground to hand it over.

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Sister Agnes kept the walled garden at Holm Abbey for forty years before the diocese sold it to a man who wanted to make cider. She left me her shears and her opinions. She also left a hook in the potting shed where she used to hang her beads while she weeded, and I hung this one there too, cleaned under the tap, the crucifix turned to the wall because it bothered me to see that tortured face over the seed packets.

The corpus had worn nearly smooth. Thirty years of thumbs had rubbed the arms until the figure was a rumour of a man, and in the shed light I could not tell whether he hung head up or head down. I stood there a long time trying to work it out from the drape of the limbs, and decided it did not much matter. Things that grow do not ask which way is up. The sweet peas I put in that week climbed the trellis anyway, and by June they had wound round the chain three times, bead to bead.

Last week the cider man came to look at the walls. He stopped at the shed, lifted the rosary off its hook and turned it over in his palm. "Bit of a mess," he said. I told him it had been in the ground a while. He hung it back up, carefully, the right way round, and I did not correct him.