Black lettering tattoo reading 'To have faith, is to fly' above a solid black silhouette of a flying figure on the inner wrist.

Script quote and flying figure on a wrist

Lettering · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A close photograph of a inner wrist and forearm showing two lines of cursive script reading 'To have faith, is to fly.' Below the text sits a solid black silhouette of a figure with one arm outstretched and the other extended behind, shown mid-flight. The ink is pure black with no shading or colour, and the subjects are centred on the skin against a plain, slightly dim background.

Lettering Forearm Script Quote Silhouette Flying figure

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The wire had jammed on the gallows again, and Tobias was the only one small enough to get up through the gap in the gantry. Skipper Cole shouted it from the wheelhouse door over the wind, the way he shouted everything, and the boy stood on the wet deck with his oilskins sliding off one shoulder and looked up at forty feet of rust and spray.

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Nan Wright had pressed a folded card into his palm on the quay that morning. It smelled of pipe smoke, and her knuckles were swollen from fifty years of gutting herring. 'Your grandad wrote that on the back of a tide table,' she said. 'Read it when you're frightened, and don't argue with the sea.' He had not read it. He had pushed it into his sock.

Halfway up, the boat rolled and his boots lost the rung. He hung by his hands with the gulls screaming around him and thought of nothing but the card, which was useless, because it was soaked through. He said the words anyway, out loud, to the rivets. Then he let go with one hand and reached for the wire, arm flung out and the other thrown back behind him, all his weight given to the air, the way the figure in the picture above his mum's cooker had done.

The wire came free with a crack. The block swung, the net sang out over the side, and he landed on the deck in a heap, laughing and bleeding from the palm. That night in the galley, Nan found the card in his sock and laughed until she coughed. She dried it on the stove rail. The ink had run into a grey smudge everywhere except one word, which stayed sharp and black: fly.