Black script lettering reading She flies by her own wings runs across the ribs on a person's side, with a floral top lifted beside it.

Script quote along the ribs

Lettering · Ribs · Black and grey · Photo

A close photograph of a black script quote, She flies by her own wings, tattooed horizontally across the side of the torso. The letters have smooth, even linework with thicker strokes on the capitals and loops, and the ink is solid black with no visible shading. The text fills the width of the frame against plain skin, with a blue floral top held up at the upper edge.

Lettering Ribs Quote Script Text Wing

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Shift your chair round, you're blocking the heater, and listen, because I won't tell this twice and the stove is already sulking. The road past Sayle Wells runs forty miles without a bend, and in the year the lake dried for good there was a water tanker on it driven by a woman called Nell Oakes. The depot men called her a passenger with a steering wheel.

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They said she'd never get the trailer coupled. She backed that rig to the hitch nineteen times in the yard while the lads leaned on the pumps and laughed, and on the twentieth she climbed down, slapped the coupling shut with the flat of her hand and drove out before the dust had settled on their boots. Nobody had shown her how. She'd watched a crow on the fence do it, she said, and figured a crow wasn't any cleverer than her.

Then the haboob came up off the flats at noon, brown as strong tea, and the road simply vanished. Every man at the depot said to stop and wait it out. Nell didn't. She kept the lights on and the window down, listened for the rumble of the verge, and steered by the hiss of her own tyres on the grit. Three hours later she rolled into Sayle Wells with the tank full and her hair full of sand, and the old pump man asked how she'd managed it. She told him she hadn't managed anything. She'd only kept going.

Come morning the crow was back on the fence post. When Nell walked past with her flask it lifted, circled the tanker once, and went off over the flats towards the hills without a backward look. Now mind the step on your way out, the stove's dying and so am I.