Black fine line cross tattoo on the side of a finger, with a dark ornamental tattoo visible at the wrist.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Small cross tattoo on a hand

Fine line · Hand · Black and grey · Photo

A close photograph of a hand and wrist, with a small black cross tattoo on the side of one finger. A dark, ornate tattoo with a shield-like shape sits at the wrist, partly covered by the sleeve of a knitted grey jumper. The ink is solid black and grey against light skin, with a plain background of dark clothing and a grey surface.

Fine line Hand Forearm Cross Ornament Wrist tattoo Finger tattoo

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The boats went out of Skerry Haven on the ebb, nineteen of them that spring, and old Bet Corran stood on the harbour wall counting their sails until the last was a grey fleck beyond the Mare Stone. Her grandson was aboard the Fidelity. He had promised to come home for the herring run and to bring her a length of blue ribbon from Lerwick, which she did not want and would have been glad to have.

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The fog came in the afternoon, thick as wet wool, and the bell-buoy went quiet. Bet went home and took down the tin box where she kept the things a fisherman's mother keeps: a bent sixpence, a horseshoe nail, a piece of sea-glass worn into the shape of a shield. She sat with it in her lap and told the cold, plainly, what she wanted. The boy home by Sunday. The cross on the chapel gable left where it stood.

A little before midnight someone knocked at the back door. It was not the boy. It was a stranger in a sou'wester who said the Fidelity had lost her mast under the Mare Stone and that every man aboard had been taken off by the Ruth. Bet thanked him and gave him tea and a heel of bread. When he had gone she found the sea-glass was warm in her palm, the fog had lifted, and out past the wall a single lamp was swinging slowly towards the harbour mouth.

The boy came up the quay on the morning tide with his cap in his hand and a cut across his knuckles. He did not ask why his grandmother was standing at the window with a shield of sea-glass clenched in her fist, and she did not tell him. The ribbon, when he produced it, was green.