Black script lettering reading God Gives His Toughest Battles To His Strongest Soldiers, tattooed in lettering style across the ribs.

Script quote along the ribs

Lettering · Ribs · Black and grey · Photo

A photograph of a four-line quotation set in black script lettering across the side of the ribs, with the lines angled diagonally downwards. The strokes are solid and even with fine hairline connections, and the ink sits cleanly against the skin. The image is a close, slightly angled view on a plain pale background with no colour ink.

Lettering Ribs Quote Text Script

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Dennis Ashby had brought a cardboard box of photographs to the reunion in the sports hall of St Aidan's, and so far nobody had asked to see them. The buffet was going cold on trestle tables under a banner that still read Class of 1988. Maureen Pryce stood beside the urn with a paper plate of sausage rolls and told him he had barely changed, a kindness he suspected she had rehearsed in the car.

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Tommy Quill had been the boy nobody picked for anything. He boxed for the junior team because Mr Feeney, the coach, needed someone to stand in against the bigger lads and take the punishment so the others could learn their footwork. Tommy lost every bout on points until the last, when the referee stopped it in the third round and Tommy walked back to the corner grinning through a split lip. Mr Feeney had written a line inside the cover of the team ledger in careful italic: God gives his toughest battles to his strongest soldiers. Tommy copied it onto the tape of his gloves with a biro.

Dennis found the ledger at the bottom of the box, its pages gone soft as cloth from years of thumbs. He read the line aloud, slowly, the way you might read a stranger's headstone. Maureen leaned over his shoulder. "Feeney," she said. "He always did like a sermon with his pads."

Beneath the coach's neat handwriting someone had added, in pencil, a column of tally marks, one for every bout Tommy had lost, and then a single line that had been rubbed out and written again. Dennis could just make it out. Still on his feet. He licked the lead, made one more mark at the bottom of the column for the reunion, and went to find Maureen a chair.