Woman lying on sand in a black hat and white crochet top, with a small black script tattoo on her upper arm and a small dark design near her shoulder, in fine line style.

Small script tattoo on upper arm

Fine line · Upper arm · Black and grey · Photo

A woman lies face down on sand wearing a black wide-brim hat and a white crochet halter top, with long blonde hair spread out to the left. A small black script tattoo sits on her upper arm, and a small dark motif is visible near her left shoulder. The black ink is fine and precise against the sandy background, and the image is cropped to show the back, shoulders and arms.

Fine line Lettering Upper arm Shoulder Script Hat Sand Long hair

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The hat came in on the tide on the last night of the summer dances, black felt with a band of red and ochre beads, and Old Tam the fiddler said it had belonged to nobody who could be found. The hall on Skerry Pier had a sprung floor that clapped back under your heels, and the lamps were strung so low that the dancers wore the light like dust.

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Mab Furlong, who crocheted lace for the shops along the front, carried the hat up the stairs and hung it on the nail by the door. Every dancer that week asked whose it was. She told them it belonged to the sand, and the sand kept what it was given. She worked a white halter through the cold evenings from thread as fine as gull down, and left it folded on the chair beneath the hat.

On the Saturday the tide came up under the boards and the fiddle stopped on a long note. Tam went down to the water with a lamp and found footprints leading out, not in, and beside them a line of small grey marks pressed into the wet sand, as if someone had written a word and the sea had not yet finished reading it.

Mab did not dance that night. She sat with the hat on her knee while the fiddle played on without her, and when the grey dawn came over the harbour the nail was bare, the chair was empty, and the halter lay on the boards, its lace still holding the shape of the wind. The sand, as Mab had always said, kept what it was given.