Close-up of a small black numerals tattoo reading 1490 on the upper chest near the collarbone, with a fine chain necklace visible.

Small numerals tattoo near the collarbone

Chest · Black and grey · Photo

A close-up selfie shows a small black tattoo of the numerals 1490 placed on the upper chest, just below the collarbone. The digits have a simple, slightly slanted lettering-style outline with solid black ink and no shading. The image is taken in bright sunlight with a strong shadow across the upper body, and the frame includes a thin chain necklace and part of the neck.

Chest Numeral Number

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The metal would not take on the third pour, and Hob Tallis stood over the pit with his sleeves rolled to the elbow, watching the bronze go grey at the lip like milk left too long in the sun. Master Ancell said the bell was cursed. Hob said the bell was simply hungry for copper, and that the tin had come up from Cornwall damp. Neither of them believed the other, and the fen wind kept coming through the open shed door as if it had opinions of its own.

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They recast it that winter, in the frost, with the furnace banked so high the thatch above the shed began to smoke. When the mould was broken open in March, the bell rang true on the first strike, a low note that rolled out over the drains and the reed beds towards Wisbech. Ancell cut the date into the waist with his own chisel, four plain numerals, and beneath them he scratched a small ring with a bar through it. Hob asked what it meant and was told to mind his hammer.

Years later, when the old man lay dying in the parlour behind the church, Hob asked again. Ancell only smiled and said the figures were for whoever came looking for the bell, and the mark was for whoever had lent them the copper. Hob never learned who that was. He still hears the bell on still evenings, low over the water, and he counts its strokes the way he was taught, one for each winter the metal has held.