Black lettering tattoo reading 'through every dark night, there is a brighter day' in script across the side ribs.

Script quote on the ribs

Lettering · Ribs · Black and grey · Photo

A script quote in dark ink reads 'through every dark night, there is a brighter day' across two lines, angled slightly upwards from left to right. The letterforms are smooth, even and evenly spaced, with a consistent line weight. The tattoo sits on the side of the torso against light skin, with a white garment and a hand holding the fabric at the edge of the frame.

Lettering Ribs Quote Script Text Word

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The well at Ashby Fold had gone dry for the third summer running, so Hild, the potter's youngest, was sent before dawn with two clay jars slung across her back and a length of rope that smelled of tallow. The path to the marsh pool ran past the standing stones, where the old men said the night had once been stolen by a fox. Nobody laughed at them any more. The nights had grown long that year, and the sun came up grudging, like a debtor paying out the last of his coins.

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At the pool she met a heron standing on one leg, watching her as though she owed it money. She knelt and filled the first jar, and then she heard someone singing under the reeds. It was a tinker's voice, thin and cracked, and the song was about a lantern that would not go out. "Who's there?" Hild asked. The singer was an old woman with a handcart of tin pots and a single candle burning inside a horn lantern, though the sky was not yet grey. "Your night is nearly done," the woman said, "if you can wait for it."

Hild asked how she could be sure. The woman tapped the horn with one bent finger. "Every dark night has a brighter day on the far side of it, the same as every rope has an end. You only have to carry the water long enough to reach it." She pressed a copper coin into Hild's palm and sent her home. Hild walked back slowly, the jars heavy against her hips, counting the stones as she passed them. When she reached the village the light was climbing over the hill, pale and then gold, and her mother stood in the doorway with the bread.

Her mother took one jar and said nothing about the lateness of the hour. Hild set the coin on the sill, where the morning caught it and threw it back across the room in a bright, steady line.