Realistic chest tattoo of a five-point star with torn skin edges revealing the verse Daniel 12:3 inside, with red accents at the tears.

Torn-skin star with Daniel 12:3 on the chest

Realism · Chest · Mixed · Photo

A five-point star sits on the centre of a bare chest, with its edges shown as torn, peeling skin that opens to reveal a passage of text in a serif typeface. The verse reads 'those who are wise will shine as bright as the sky, those who turn many to righteousness will shine like stars forever', with the reference Daniel 12:3 below. Shading is black and grey with soft gradients to suggest depth, and small red patches along the tears add the only colour.

Realism Lettering Chest Star Scripture Bible verse Torn skin Text

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The slate in the chapel schoolroom had Daniel written on it in chalk the week after the Hartley roof came in, and Mr Pearce made us copy the verse until our hands ached. Those who are wise will shine as bright as the sky. I wrote it four times in my best hand and once in the margin of my sums, which earned me a rap across the knuckles and a second look from him that I did not like.

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My father had no use for scripture that did not come with a shift attached. He worked the Dunn seam for nineteen years and could tell a roof about to fall by the sound it made, a sort of sigh, he said, like a man deciding whether to speak. On the morning I turned fourteen he took me to the lamp room at half five and put a brass check in my hand with my number stamped on it, forty-one. "Wise is knowing which way is out," he said, and that was the whole sermon I got.

Two winters later the cage stuck at the three-hundred-foot landing and we stood in the dark for six hours, forty men breathing in turns. Somebody started the chapel hymns, badly, and somebody else began the verses Mr Pearce had beaten into us, and I found I had them all. Those who turn many to righteousness. I had never once considered what it meant to be the one doing the turning. When the cage finally came up, my father was waiting at the pit head with his lamp held high, and the frost on his moustache caught the light like a scatter of small stars. He did not say anything about wisdom. He just looked up at the sky the way men do when they have finished being underground, and I looked up too.