Black and grey realism full sleeve tattoo of unrolled scrolls covered in text, shown across three views of an upper arm and forearm.

Scroll and scripture full sleeve tattoo

Realism · Upper arm · Black and grey · Photo

Three views of a full sleeve covering the upper arm and forearm, showing unrolled parchment scrolls with rolled ends and lines of printed-style text. The shading is soft and greyscale, giving the scrolls a three-dimensional, aged look with cast shadows. The composition wraps around the arm, with the panels set side by side against a plain green shirt and a indoor background.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Sit down, the lot of you. The 4.10 has gone to Carlisle without us and the kettle's only just warm. You want a story, you'll take it the way I tell it. My grandfather kept the signal box at Wenlow Junction for forty years, and the night the snow shut the line he came up the platform with three rolls of paper under his arm. Not tickets. Letters that had been sitting in the lost parcels office since the war, every one addressed to someone who'd moved on or gone under the ground.

Keep reading

He unrolled the first one on the bench under the clock. The ink had gone the colour of weak tea, and the lines ran down the page like rain down a window. Nobody could read it in that light, so he read it out loud, and the waiting room went quiet. A woman in a damp coat started crying before he'd reached the second line, because it was her mother's voice, copied out by a clerk who signed off as Thomas Ayre.

Grandfather never found Thomas Ayre. But every winter after, when the trains stopped, someone would climb the steps to the box with a scroll tucked under their arm and ask him to read it, and he did, until the last line had been heard. Forty years of other people's names, rolled up and carried in coat pockets. He used to say the paper didn't care who held it, only that somebody spoke the words before the lamp went out.

So when you're sat there wondering where the 4.10 has got to, remember that. Somebody's got to keep the words moving. Now pass me that third roll, Alan, and mind the candle.

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