Fine line black script reading in a world of my own runs across the forearm, ending in a daisy drawn in matching linework on the right.

Script phrase and daisy on a forearm

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A fine line script phrase, in a world of my own, runs diagonally across the forearm and ends with a daisy outlined in thin black ink. The daisy has layered petals, a shaded centre and loose curved stroke detail. The ink is dark and uniform against pale skin, with a teal background filling the lower frame.

Fine line Lettering Botanical Forearm Script Phrase Daisy Flower Word

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The stonemason's boy had been sent to mend the north tower, and Hester had been sent to watch him, which was the only reason anyone in the village let her climb the hill to Ashcombe Keep. The walls had no roof left. Ivy had taken the great hall and the rooks had taken the chapel, but the steps still went up, and Hester went up them every afternoon with a bread heel in her apron pocket and a book she never opened.

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Her mother called it wandering. Her father, who had carried stone up that hill for the lord before the lord died owing everyone money, called it nothing at all and went back to his bench. Hester did not mind. Up on the wall walk the wind came from three directions at once and nobody could hear her thinking, which suited her. She counted the daisies that pushed through the mortar. Forty-one on the east face. She had never found a way to tell anyone that the number kept changing, and that it was hers to keep.

On the last Thursday of the month the mason's boy dropped his trowel off the parapet and it fell all the way into the moat. He cried. Hester climbed down the stair, found it in the reeds, and brought it back wet and gritty. He looked at her as though she had come from some other country. "You were up there the whole time," he said. "Talking to nobody."

She shrugged, because it was true, and because the answer was too long. She had a whole town in her head, with a bakery that opened at noon and a river that ran uphill on Sundays. It had never needed anyone else's permission.