Black script lettering tattoo of a four-line quote across the ribs, with a hand with red nail polish resting at the top of the frame.

Script quote tattoo along the ribs

Lettering · Ribs · Black and grey · Photo

A close photograph of four lines of cursive script tattooed in black ink across a person's side or ribs. The linework is fine and even, with the letters slanting upwards from left to right, and the skin tone is warm and lightly lit. A hand with red painted nails and a pale fabric edge sit at the top of the frame.

Lettering Ribs Quote Script Text

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The roof came down at Harrow Seam a little after two on the Tuesday, and by four the rescue men had their drills out and their faces set. Jim was on the far side of a wall of stone no higher than a kitchen table, and everyone kept saying the words they had been trained to say: we'll have you out, lad, hold on. I stood at the edge of the bore hole with a tin flask in my coat and said nothing for an hour.

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When the knocking came up the pipe, it was Jim, slow and deliberate, tapping in threes. The shift boss leaned over and said they were coming through the left side, that it would be a day at most. Jim knocked twice, then once more, which was our old code for no. The boss looked at me. I took the pipe and put my mouth to it. "Jim Rowe, you daft article, they'll dig till their hands bleed." The tapping came back, faint but steady. "I don't want them to save me, Maggie. I want them stood by that hole when I come through, and I'll do the rest myself."

So we stood. Men from three villages, the lamp-room lad with his bike clips still on, the vicar who could not keep his hands still. Nobody dug. For six hours the only sound was a scraping from below, one stone at a time, and every hour I fed a cup of tea down the pipe, which he said was the only thing he needed us for.

At twenty to eleven a grey hand came through the gap, then a shoulder, then his lamp, still burning. He crawled out on his belly and lay in the dust with his eyes shut. I knelt and held the flask to his mouth. He drank, coughed, and said, "Told you." Behind us the men began to clap, and he waved them quiet with the same stubborn gesture he used for everything, as if the only thing he had ever asked of anyone was to be allowed to finish the job himself.