Two clasped hands show small black fine line symbol tattoos on a finger each, with a beaded bracelet on one wrist and white ribbons on a wooden surface.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Small black symbol tattoos on two fingers

Fine line · Hand · Black and grey · Photo

Two hands are clasped together over a weathered wooden surface scattered with white ribbon. Each hand has a small black tattoo on one finger, drawn as a simple symbol with thin, delicate linework. The shot is shallow in depth of field, with a blurred tattooed forearm and a beaded green bracelet at the left wrist framing the soft, muted composition.

Fine line Hand Symbol Clasped hands Ribbon Bracelet

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The white ribbons came in on every tide that spring, snagged in the weed along the slipway at Hallin. Mainland boats tied them to their rails for luck and forgot the luck was supposed to stay with them. Mairi gathered them into a basket each morning before the gulls got to them. She was not superstitious, she told anyone who asked. Only tidy.

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Tam Corrie mended nets on the bench outside the chandlery and had done so since before she was born. He did not look up when she sat beside him. He said the herring were late, and she said the herring were always late, and then, because the wind was loud and nobody could hear, she told him she would marry him if he stopped pretending he had not been waiting. He laughed so hard he dropped his twine. That autumn Old Ruadh pricked the same small sign into a finger of each of them with a needle dipped in soot, the island's old mark for a promise, and they held hands on the bench so the two marks met.

The boat came home in December with its sail furled and no one at the tiller. The island did what it always did. It carried the ribbons up the hill to the hawthorn by the well, so the sea would know what it had been given. Mairi did not go up. She went down to the water every morning with her basket, and every morning there were fewer ribbons, because the tide was taking them back.

In March she found one caught in the bladderwrack at her feet, whiter than the rest. She slid it onto the string of green glass beads at her wrist and knotted it tight. Then she walked up the hill, left the basket empty by the well, and came down again with nothing in her hands at all.