Black and white photo of a small vertical fine line tattoo on the back of a person's neck, with hair tied up and a knitted jumper visible.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Small vertical fine line tattoo on the neck

Fine line · Neck · Black and grey · Photo

A close black and white photograph of the back of a person's neck, with hair pulled up and a knitted jumper at the shoulders. A small, thin vertical tattoo sits at the centre of the nape, drawn in delicate single-weight linework. The monochrome image and tight framing keep the focus on the small mark and its placement.

Fine line Neck Small tattoo

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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 snow had reached the second rung of the barn door by Tuesday, and Dad came in stamping and said we'd need to dig the ewes out from under the hedge before the light went. Nobody marked the depth on the door any more except me. Every winter since I was six I'd taken the carpenter's pencil from the tin on the kitchen windowsill and drawn a thin upright line on the frame beside the latch, with the year scratched at its foot, so we could see who'd had the hard ones.

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This year I drew mine the same as always, a single stroke, straight as a fence wire, and stood back with my gloves steaming. Gran's marks were up near the lintel, faded to silver, her numbers looped like the washing line. Mum's stopped the winter she moved to Carlisle. The stroke I'd made that morning looked smaller than I expected, a thread of graphite against the grey wood, hardly anything at all.

We dug until the dark came down over the moor, the ewes bunched and bleating in the lee of the wall while Dad cut a path with the shovel and I carried the lambs in my coat. When we finally got the last of them into the byre, Dad leaned on the door and looked at the frame for a long time. He didn't say anything about the line. He just took the pencil from my pocket, held it up to the lamp, and drew a second stroke right beside mine, a little taller, and wrote the year at its foot in his square capitals.