Small black cross tattoo on the back of a hand, which is holding a microphone and wearing a jewelled bracelet and rings.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Small cross tattoo on the back of a hand

Hand · Black and grey · Photo

A close photograph of a hand gripping a black microphone, with a small, dark cross tattooed on the back of the hand near the wrist. The cross has a fine, slightly textured outline and solid dark fill, set against warm, softly blurred skin and background. Silver rings and a wide bracelet set with dark stones sit beside the tattoo, and the composition keeps the focus on the cross.

Hand Cross Microphone Bracelet Ring

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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 desk at the back of the Corn Exchange had a dead lamp that nobody fixed, so Ruth worked by the glow of the monitor wedge and the little green light on the compressor. Tuesday nights the house was half full of students who wanted to be heard and a handful of old men who wanted to be left alone. She had the fader for the lead vocal under two fingers, the way her father taught her to hold a cup of tea he didn't want her to spill.

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The singer that night was called Marnie Gale, though the flyers said MG and the bar staff called her the Gale. She had a voice like a door on a cold hinge, and she never once looked at the sound desk. She only looked at the mic, gripping it the way people grip a rail on a ferry. Every time she leaned in, the bracelets on her wrist rattled against the stand, a clatter Ruth could hear through the monitors, and it drove her mad until the second song, when she realised it was the only thing keeping the beat honest.

After the last encore, Marnie came down the back stairs with her guitar case and found Ruth coiling cable in the dark. She held out a hand, palm up, as if to show she had nothing hidden. Ruth expected a complaint about the reverb. Instead Marnie said, "You kept me in tune when I was going to lose it," and pressed a battered brass key into her palm. It was for the padlock on the old tour van, the one with the good brakes. Ruth still has it on her ring, and she has never once been able to tell whether it was a thank-you or a dare.