Script reading I carry your heart on a foot
Fine line · Ankle · Black and grey · Photo
A close photograph of a foot resting on a pink carpet, with a hand holding the toes and a braided bracelet on the wrist. The tattoo is a thin black cursive script reading i carry your heart, ending in a small heart-shaped flourish, placed on the side of the foot near the ankle. The ink is solid black and the lines are even, with the composition centred on the lettering against soft, neutral surroundings.
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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction
The cage came up the shaft with nobody in it, and Nan Hesketh knew before the bell stopped ringing. Her son Tom had gone down at six with a tin of bread and dripping and a promise to be home for chapel tea. The overman said the roof had given at the far face and that it had been quick, which is what people say and nobody believes.
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They laid him out in the front room. Nan did not weep at first. She went to the drawer where he kept his things: a brass check with his number, a blue ribbon, a letter from a girl in Hallow Bank he had never answered. Under the letter lay a small mint tin, and inside it a flat stone he had picked off the coal face the week he was courting. He had scratched a heart on it with a nail. Nan had teased him for it.
She took the tin to the pit head and gave the lamp-man's boy a shilling. "Put it in his pocket on the level," she said, "where the air is worst. He liked to keep things close." The boy went down. For nine days nothing came of it, and the village said Nan had lost her wits, and she let them say it.
On the tenth morning the boy came up grey as ash and sat on the steps. He said that at the far face, under the fall, he had heard a knocking, slow, like a man tapping a pipe to clear it. Following it, he found the tin on a ledge of stone, though it had been in Tom's pocket. The scratched heart was turned outward now, as if someone had carried it a long way to show it. Nan took it from him, pressed it flat against her ribs under her shawl, and walked home the long way, the way Tom used to come from the shift.
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