Pen sketch of a tattoo design showing a skull, roses and a banner reading Dead men tell no tales, in a neo-trad lettering style.

Skull and banner lettering design

Neo-trad · Colour · Flash

A sketched tattoo design shows a skull wrapped in a curling banner that reads Dead men tell no tales, with a rose and swirling scrollwork above and beside it. The linework is ornate and layered, with fine pencil guide lines visible beneath the bolder ink and some shading on the skull and bones. The drawing is done in purple-toned ink on a pale pinkish-tan background, with the design filling the full vertical frame.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The rain had been coming sideways across Pelham Quay market since seven, and by eleven you had sold nothing but a tin of boot polish and a brass sextant with a cracked mirror. You were folding the trestle when a man in an oilskin came down the row pulling a sea chest on a fish cart, its wheels shrieking on the wet cobbles.

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He wanted fourteen pounds for it. You offered six. He laughed, a dry sound like a halyard in the wind, and lifted the lid to show you the inside: a lining of foxed chart paper, a rusted cutlass hilt, and a rose pressed flat between the pages of a hymnal. "Dead men tell no tales," he said, tapping the lid where someone had burned the words in with a hot nail. "Nobody ever said the living couldn't."

You paid the fourteen because the rain was down your collar and he looked tired enough to fall over. That night, over the gas ring, you prised up the chart lining to see what else the chest held. Beneath it, in a hand so neat it could have been engraved, ran a list of names and dates, each followed by a single word: Paid. Paid. Paid. The last line had your street on it, and today's date.

By morning the stall was gone and the hymnal sat open on your kitchen table. The rose had gone cold, colder than paper should be, and beside the underlined first line of the hymn, in ink that had not quite dried, someone had written your name.

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