Small solid black cross tattoo on the back of a hand near the wrist, with a woven bracelet and a ring on the finger.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Small cross tattoo on the hand

Hand · Black and grey · Photo

A close photograph of a woman's hand raised to her lips, showing a small, simple black cross tattooed on the back of the hand. The cross has bold, solid black lines with no visible shading, and the warm, slightly vintage tones of the photo make the ink look dark brown. The wrist wears a cream woven bracelet, and the composition is tightly cropped to the hand and lower face.

Hand Cross 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 oak came down in February, after three days of rain had loosened the ground under Hollins Wood, and Tobias Reeve spent the whole of the following week trying to decide what a piece of wood that straight was good for. Mrs Ashdown wanted a gate. The vicar wanted nothing, which was how he asked for things. Tobias sat on an upturned cart with his knife and a heel of bread and turned the offcut over until the grain showed him a shape.

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He cut it to a span and a half, then cut a shorter arm across it, and he worked slowly because his master had taught him that a cut you could not take back deserved a second look. When he was done the two pieces lay on the bench like a mark made by someone who had meant it. Mrs Ashdown's boy came by with a jug of cider and stood staring. Is that a gate, he asked. Tobias said it was not a gate.

He carried it down to the Ashdown kitchen wrapped in sacking and found her at the table with her hands flat on a letter that had come that morning from Gloucester. She did not ask what it was. She looked at the black wood for a long while, then pushed the letter aside and told him to hang it above the door, where the draught came in, where her husband always said the house was most likely to let bad news through.

Forty years on, the cross still hung there, dark with smoke and handling. Nobody in the village could say who had first asked for it, only that every man who left for the army touched it on his way out, the way you touch a doorframe for luck. Tobias's granddaughter, who kept the house after, said the joint never once worked loose, which she put down to the wood being cut by someone who had decided before he picked up the saw.