Enlarged with AI from a smaller original
Scrollwork and flowers on an upper arm
Upper arm · Black and grey · Photo
A black ink tattoo of swirling scrollwork, teardrop shapes and small five-petal flowers runs from the shoulder down the outside of the upper arm. The linework is solid and smooth, with some areas shaded in grey to add depth behind the curls. The image is framed in a close crop of a person wearing a white vest top against a plain background.
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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction
The shawl was still unfinished the night before the wedding, and Mairi had not yet decided where the vine should stop. Her mother said a bride's cloth must run unbroken from shoulder to hem, so the curls kept turning under her needle, and the black teardrops swelled like seeds on the linen. She sewed dots down the length of it, one after another, like stepping stones across a ford, until the lamp oil ran low and the peat fire sank to a red eye.
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Her grandmother had told her why. Across the loch there was a ferryman who rowed brides to their husbands' shores, and in the autumn fogs he lost his way so often that his wife began stitching flowers into everything he wore. Each five-petalled bloom was a lamp, she said, and each dot was a stone he could count with his oar. He never drowned after that. People said the cloth had kept him.
On the wedding morning the mist sat thick on the water and the boat was late. Mairi walked down to the shingle with the shawl over her arms, and the wet linen dragged its hem into the shallows. Out in the grey, an oar knocked, knocked, and a voice called her name. The ferryman's son had rowed across in the fog that morning, counting every dot in the dark, and he stepped onto the stones with his hand already out.
At the water's edge he lifted the hem and found the last flower, the one she had stitched only at midnight, and he smiled at it without a word. Mairi folded the shawl over his shoulders and told him the vine had run out in exactly the right place.
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