Close-up of a dark snake tattoo on a person's chest, partly covered by layered silver necklaces with sword pendants, with tattoos visible on the forearm.

Snake tattoo on chest beneath layered necklaces

Chest · Mixed · Photo

A close-up of a person's upper torso wearing a black top and several layered silver necklaces, including two sword-shaped pendants. A dark tattoo on the chest appears to show a coiled snake, with blue-black ink and soft shading. Tattoos are also visible on the lower arms at the edges of the frame, and the image has a warm, film-like tone.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

On the night shift at the Chapel Moor infirmary, the porter Tobias Rennie kept a short sword wrapped in oilcloth behind the linen cupboard. Nobody had ever seen him draw it. When the young nurses asked about it, he only said that the thing he feared was not on the wards at all, but in the drains beneath them, and that it had been down there longer than the building.

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He told it in the flat voice of a man reading the shipping forecast. Long ago the river Moor flooded every March, and with the water came a serpent, blue-black as wet slate and coiled as high as a man. It lay in the cellars and breathed out fever. Each time the sick were carried in, it took a little of their sleep, and the ones who slept worst were the ones who did not wake.

A laundress called Hester Vane went down one night with a paraffin lamp and found the beast wound around the old pump. She did not run. She sat on the bottom step and sang every patient's name she could remember from the ward books, one after another, slowly, the way you would read a register. The serpent lifted its head to listen, and it uncoiled a little more with each name, until the cellar was quiet and the lamp had nearly gone out.

When the morning porter came down, he found the pump dry, the drains clear, and the sword laid across the handle with its point towards the stairs. Tobias says that is why the wards still run warm and why he checks the cupboard before every shift. Nobody on the night rota has ever argued with him.

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