Fine line black script tattoo reading saved by grace across the inner forearm above the wrist, with the hand resting on white bedding.

Saved by grace script on a forearm

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A black script tattoo reads saved by grace across the inner forearm, just above the wrist. The lettering is a thin, flowing monoline with looping joins and a long tapered tail at the end. The ink is dark against pale skin, with a plaid sleeve, two silver rings and a white bed softly lit in the background.

Fine line Lettering Forearm Script Phrase Wrist

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The sleet has turned to something harder by the time the lamp on the Carrow Gate goes out, and you are still half a mile below the col with Tomas's rope gone slack in your hands. Nobody warned you the wind would sing like that, low and out of tune, as if the mountain were clearing its throat before it spoke. You count the cairns the way your mother taught you to count stitches, one, then the next, and you do not look down at the drop on your left.

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Tomas is calling from somewhere under the overhang. His voice comes thin and then goes, and you have only a sense of where it was. You crouch on the scree and feel for the gap in the rock where the old shepherds used to leave tallow and bread for travellers who never came back. Your fingers find a tin first, then the line trailing from it, and you pull until something heavy answers.

He is wedged in a crack with one leg folded wrong beneath him, grinning like a fool. 'Thought you'd sit in the hut with the kettle,' he says. You tell him the kettle is a myth and tie the line round his chest with the bowline he taught you, the loop that never slips. The rope burns through your gloves, and you count again.

At the bottom, in the grey before dawn, the valley comes up pale as a bedsheet pulled tight. Tomas laughs once and quotes the minister who used to bury the dead in Carrow, that they were saved by grace and nothing they had done. You tell him grace is a poor climber and he should have sent a better one. He does not answer, but he keeps hold of your sleeve all the way down to the road, and the knot between you stays tied the whole way home.