Back view of a woman in a white shirt holding a tan clutch, with a small black anchor tattoo on her inner wrist above a silver bangle.

Small anchor tattoo on a wrist

Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A woman with long dark hair is photographed from behind, wearing an oversized white shirt and holding a tan leather clutch. A small black anchor tattoo sits on her wrist, with a silver bangle beside it and her hand tucked into a pocket. The muted white wall and soft daylight keep the focus on the shirt, the clutch and the tattoo.

Forearm Anchor

Find an artist for this

Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The anchor came up the slipway at Skerrow Bay with weed still knotted in its flukes, and Ada Penrose would not let the men hose it down. Her brother had gone out on the Marigold forty days before, and the boat had come home without him, the chain paid out to the bottom and the shank bent like a hairpin where it had caught on something nobody could name.

Keep reading

The harbourmaster wanted it melted for scrap. Ada wheeled it home on a barrow and kept it in the back shed behind the net loft, and each evening she rubbed linseed into the bend and read the pilot's log by a paraffin lamp. The log said the Marigold had dropped her hook in six fathoms off the Scaur, a place the charts marked as clean sand and nothing more.

On the ninth night she rowed out at slack water with a grapnel and a coil of tarred line. The tide was making, the gulls had gone quiet, and the bottom came up in small slow heaves under the boat. On the third drag the grapnel bit something that gave back a dull note when it knocked, and she hauled up a ship's bell crusted green, its clapper still tied on with wire. Her brother's name was scratched on the rim, below a date she knew.

She brought it to the shed and hung it from the anchor's ring, then gave it a push. It rang once, flat and steady, and the sound carried out across the water toward the Scaur as if someone far off had finally answered.