Close view of a hand with pink nails showing a small black script tattoo on the wrist and a tiny design between the thumb and forefinger, beside black platform heels.

Small script tattoos on wrist and hand

Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A hand with pink nails rests on black suede platform high heels with a side zip, set on a cream fluffy rug. A small black script-style tattoo sits on the inner wrist beside a metal bracelet, and a tiny black design is inked on the hand between the thumb and forefinger. The image is a close, softly lit composition with the tattoos as small details.

Forearm Hand Hand Wrist Script High heel Bracelet

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

Mrs Abernethy's zip had jammed halfway up the heel of the left shoe, and Ruth Okonedo had been working the little metal teeth with a bradawl for twenty minutes before she admitted the suede would have to come away from the rivets. She set it down on the bench beside the tin of beeswax and the cone of waxed thread, then picked up the other one, which had never given any trouble. Black suede, a platform sole as thick as a hymnal, a zip running up the outside like a seam on a drum. Somebody had paid good money for these to be looked at.

Keep reading

Ruth had worked at the same bench on Hessle Road since her father retired, and she had mended nearly everything that could be mended: Wellingtons, christening shoes, one pair of wedding boots that had come back twice. What she liked best was a zip, because it either worked or it didn't and there was no arguing with it. She eased the slider down with a lump of wax, felt for the tooth that had sprung, and bent it back with the pliers so gently she could hear the clock over the door.

The bell rang at half past four. Mrs Abernethy came in with her coat buttoned to the chin and a carrier bag that smelt of rain, and she stood at the counter tapping one gloved finger on the glass while Ruth held up the repaired heel. The zip ran smooth and quiet, and the old woman looked at it for a long moment before she laughed.

"My husband bought those in Leeds the week before he went to Bridlington with his friends," she said. "He said I'd never wear them past the front step." She took them, tucked them under her arm, and didn't ask what Ruth owed her, which was how Ruth knew she would be back.