Woman in a lace bra and open plaid shirt, showing a traditional-style rose and bird tattoo on her ribs, script lettering on her upper chest, and a rose and portrait design on her thigh.

Rose and bird tattoos on torso and thigh

Traditional · Chest · Mixed · Photo

The photograph shows a woman with her head cropped out of frame, displaying several tattoos across her chest, ribs, arm and thighs. The main ribside piece combines a dark bird with a cluster of red and pink roses and green leaves, drawn with bold outlines and solid shading. A script lettering piece sits across the upper chest, and a red-eyed animal head and a grey rose with a profile portrait appear on the thigh, with the image lit warmly against a plain indoor background.

Traditional Lettering Chest Ribs Thigh Upper arm Rose Rooster Bird Script Cat Portrait Woman

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The rooster had been wrong about the sun for three summers running, and Mrs Pell's roses had never once minded. He stood on the back wall in Hebden Bridge each dawn and crowed at the chimney pots, certain the whole street waited on him. The street slept through it, apart from the milkman and a lodger on the top floor who swore at him in two languages.

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The roses were the trouble. Mrs Pell grew them up the brick, red ones and pink ones with leaves like wet holly, and the rooster took the bed as his own. Every morning he dropped down among the stems to scratch for worms, and every morning she came out in her dressing gown with a broom handle and a string of words the vicar would not have liked. He called it a feud. She called it gardening, and she always said it with a grin.

One February the frost came down hard and the kitchen light stayed off. The rooster crowed at the pots anyway, louder than before, and nobody came out with the broom. On the third morning a boy in a school jumper came round the side gate with a trowel and a paper bag of sweet pea seeds, and he looked up at the wall as if the rooster were the only thing on it worth looking at.

The rooster did not understand much, but he understood a broom. He stayed on the wall until the sun cleared the chimneys, then dropped into the frosted roses and scratched, very gently, waiting for someone to tell him off.