Small black palm tree tattoo on the ankle of a person lying on yellow striped bedding.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Small palm tree tattoo on an ankle

Fine line · Ankle · Black and grey · Photo

A person lies on yellow and white striped bedding with bare legs bent and one foot raised. A small, simple palm tree tattoo in dark grey ink sits on the ankle, with a fine outline and light shading. The soft, film-like photograph has warm tones and focuses on the leg and foot.

Fine line Botanical Ankle Palm tree Ankle

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The king's clerk had already stamped the ledger when I came back up the causeway with the seedling wrapped in my spare shirt, and he did not look up. Palms were a royal matter in Caddamere. Every one on the island had been counted since the drought in my grandmother's time, and each had a name in the tax rolls, so a new one had to be entered by hand, in ink, or it did not exist.

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I told him it was a gift for the queen's sister, who was unwell and wanted shade. This was half true. The sister had asked for a palm the summer before, in a letter I had carried across the strait myself, and I had promised. I did not tell him that the letter had gone astray in the rains, or that I had grown this seedling from a fruit I found tangled in a fisherman's net.

Thedra, who kept the lamp house, laughed when I showed her and said the only palm that ever lived in Caddamere was the one that grew through the floor of the old chapel. We walked there at dusk with the sea wind pulling at our coats, and she showed me the crack in the flagstones where it had split the stone open, its fronds bent low like a traveller sinking onto a bench after a long road.

We planted mine beside it at first light, before the clerks woke. When the sun reached the water the fronds caught it, and the clerk, passing with his ledger, stopped and counted. He counted twice. Then he wrote a single word in the margin, which was a name, and I have never told anyone what it was.