Small colour tattoo of a red apple on a finger of a hand resting on a patterned surface, with a gold ring on a neighbouring finger.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Small red apple tattoo on a finger

Hand · Colour · Photo

A hand rests on a patterned surface in a room with yellow-green walls, with the fingers curled towards the camera. A small red apple with dark shading and a light highlight is tattooed on one finger, and a thin gold ring sits on the adjacent finger. The image is a close, slightly wide-angle shot with the background softly out of focus.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

At Saltcombe the boarding house stood on the cliff with its back to the wind, and the landlady, Hester Pill, kept one apple on the parlour sill all winter. Nobody ate it. It was the last fruit from the Blackwell tree, planted by a fisherman's widow who had watched her husband's boat go under the Mare Rock. The village said that as long as the apple stayed whole, the boats would come home.

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One November a stranger came up the path with a tinker's box slung on his back and a voice like gulls over the harbour. He took the room above the kitchen and paid in silver that turned to cockleshells by morning. On the third night he stood at the parlour window and asked for the apple. Hester told him no. He said the sea was owed a fair trade, and offered in its place a ring of gold, thin as a wheat stalk, that would fit any finger she chose.

She thought of the boats out past the Mare Rock, and of her own two sons still at sea. She took the ring and set it on her finger, where it was warm at once, and she gave him the apple. He tucked it into his coat and went down the cliff path without a lantern.

In the morning the sill was bare and the cockleshells had gone back to silver. The boats came home that week, every one, and Hester wore the ring until the day she died. Her grandchildren said the gold still felt warm when they held her hand, and that it never once slipped from the finger.

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