Black and white photo of a small fine-line script tattoo on the inner wrist, with a hand with striped nails visible above it.

Small script lettering on inner wrist

Fine line · Hand · Black and grey · Photo

A small script mark, possibly letters or a short glyph, sits on the inner wrist just above a dark knitted cuff. The linework is thin and uniform with light ink against the skin. The photograph is black and white, with the hand and striped nails framing the tattoo at the top of the frame.

Fine line Lettering Hand Letter Script

Find an artist for this

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 boats had been gone since the ebb, and Ishbel had walked the length of the harbour wall three times before she thought to look at the stones. Her man's mark was there, scratched low on the pier where the nets were dried. It was not his name. Her grandmother had taught her that the fishing folk of the Moray coast never wrote names at the water's edge, because the sea read names and took them back. They drew a small sign instead, a two with a curl at its foot, and it meant come home by the second slip.

Keep reading

Fair enough, Ishbel thought, and she was not comforted. The second slip was the narrow gap under the cliffs where the rocks had taken three boats the winter Hamish was a boy. Nobody sensible went there at dusk. She stood with her shawl pulled tight and counted the lamps out on the grey water, one, then two, then none.

Old Tam came up the path with his pipe going and a face like wet slate. He said the drifter had turned for the slip because the mist had closed the open water, and that a lad in the stern had kept calling out the soundings all the way in. He did not say whose voice. He did not need to. He only said the lad had been whistling the old tune between the calls, the one about herring running thick under the moon.

That night she went down with a stub of chalk and drew a second loop beside her husband's mark, for the second slip. When the tide turned at first light the wind had gone round to the south, and both boats came over the bar one behind the other, without a scratch on them, as if they had only been counting.