Small fine-line script word always in dark grey-blue ink on the inner wrist of a hand, with a cream knitted sleeve at the cuff.

Script word always on an inner wrist

Fine line · Other · Black and grey · Photo

A close photograph of a small tattoo of the word always in flowing cursive script on the inner wrist. The linework is thin and even, and the ink is a dark grey-blue with no shading. The hand is angled across the frame against a blurred brown background, with the cream knitted sleeve visible at the bottom right.

Fine line Lettering Other Always Script Word

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The cage came up at six with only nine men, and Nell Garside counted them twice from the pithead gate because she had already counted the tenth in her head, the way she had every morning for eleven years. Her husband Tom was the tenth. He was not in the cage.

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The overman said the roof had gone at the far heading of the Fenner seam, and that the rescue would take three days if the water let them. Nell did not go home. She sat on the wall of the slag heap with a slate on her knee and a stub of chalk, and she wrote the word she had written in every snap tin and every note in his coat pocket for eleven years. She wrote it in the looping hand the schoolmistress had beaten into her at Carn Row: always. When the chalk wore thin she wiped it with her sleeve and wrote it again.

On the third night a knocking came up the air shaft, slow and even, the way the men tapped to say they were alive. Nell answered on the iron pipe with a spanner, four taps and a pause and four more. It was the signal Tom had made up for courting, back when the chapel was too loud for talking. Forty minutes later the rescue men brought up three living men and then Tom, grey to the lips, who did not say a word to anyone.

She stood up from the wall and held the slate out to him. The word was nearly gone, only the long tail of the y left standing in the grey dust. He looked at it for a long time, then took the slate from her and pressed his thumb along the faded loops, as if he could feel them through the stone.