Black and grey realism tattoo on a forearm showing the Statue of Liberty's spiked crown and hands covering her face, with a bullet hole and cracks below.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Statue of Liberty hands and bullet hole on forearm

Realism · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A realistic tattoo of the Statue of Liberty's spiked crown, with her face hidden behind two hands pressed over it. Below the hands, a bullet hole with radiating cracks sits low on the forearm, shaded with fine detail and highlights. The design runs up the forearm, with soft grey shading giving depth to the crown and hands against the skin.

Realism Forearm Crown Hand Crack

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Walt Ferris had the crown half-painted when the mayor's Buick nosed up to the kerb outside Hale's Feed and Seed, and he kept his brush moving because the paint was tacky and a man in a good suit could wait. The plaster Liberty had stood there since the war bond drive, her green gone the colour of pond water, her torch arm lifted over the one traffic light the town could afford. Someone had put a round through that forearm in April, and the cracks had spread out from the hole like the legs of a dead spider.

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"Fill it, Walt," said Mayor Cobb, leaning on the car door. "Parade's Saturday, and the Fourth is no time to remind folks what kind of town we are." Walt looked at the hole for a long moment. "Plaster doesn't lie about what happened to it, Mayor. Fill that and you're only painting over the spring."

The mayor left with a flat look, and Walt climbed the ladder to finish the crown. Up close the statue's face had worn to a smudge, so he worked around it, layering grey into the spikes until they caught the light. That evening his daughter Ruth brought a thermos up the road and asked why he hadn't filled the arm. He told her he'd been asked to make Liberty look like nothing had happened, and he had never once in his life been able to make a thing look like that.

Saturday the marching band turned the corner at nine, and the first children stopped at the kerb to stare. The sun came low along Main Street, struck the cracked plaster, and threw a small bright star onto the pavement where anyone walking past could step into it.