Script lettering tattoos on ankles and feet

Lettering · Ankle · Black and grey · Photo

This collage shows four close photographs of small black script lettering tattoos on the feet and ankles of different people. The largest panels show longer phrases written in flowing fine-line script, with the word wanderlust in a smaller single line on another ankle. The images are in greyscale or near greyscale, with a simple, plain background and natural lighting.

Lettering Ankle Script Lettering Quote Wanderlust Feet

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Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Sit closer, the lot of you, the fire's only good for one more log and I'll not waste breath on fidgeters. Brother Osric had the copying hand in this house before any of us, and he kept a rule that no ink went onto vellum unless it was something a person could carry. Psalms were fine. Prayers for the dead were fine. But when the carrier from Wisbech came up the causeway in the wet spring of the flood, he brought a mother's letter for her son on a ship bound for the Baltic, and she asked for the words to be written small, so the boy could read them by feel.

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Osric spent three nights on the line. He wrote it in the thin black script the abbey used for the book of hours, letters tall and narrow, and he kept fighting the urge to make them grand. Maybe in distance, but never in heart, the mother had dictated, and then she had wept into her shawl and added, Write that I am not waiting, I am keeping. Osric did not understand that and said so, and she laughed and told him that was for her son to puzzle out.

The ship went out, and nobody in the abbey heard of it for two years. Then, in the autumn, a grown sailor with salt in his beard came limping up the causeway asking for the scribe who had written his mother's words. Osric was dead by then, so the sailor was shown the cold cell and the ledger entry for that spring. He sat on the stone bench and read it aloud twice, then ran his thumb down the line of ink the way a blind man reads a page. When Brother Anselm asked what he wanted with a copy, the man said he wanted the words where the rope could not wear them off, and he paid for the candle himself.