Traditional style flower tattoo with a red outline, black fill and yellow accents covering the back of a hand.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Traditional flower on the back of a hand

Traditional · Hand · Mixed · Photo

A close photograph of the back of a hand showing a large traditional style flower design with a bold red outline and solid black fill. A pale central motif, shaded in grey, sits within the flower, with dark sprig-like shapes below it and yellow and grey dotted details around the petals. The image is shot straight on against a light textured background, with the design filling most of the frame.

Traditional Hand Flower Petal Dot Sprig

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The Marrow Lass had been four months out of Bristol when the cook ran short of sugar and the mate began counting the barrels by lantern light. Nobody aboard had seen land since the Azores. The captain's daughter, Hester Pell, walked the deck each evening with a dead geranium in a clay pot, saying she would not give it to the sea until it flowered.

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The old hands said a bloom would grow on any ship that carried a broken promise, and they looked at the mate, Abel Crane, when they said it. Abel called it foolishness. Hester watered the pot from her own tin cup and talked to it the way her mother had talked to the bread.

On the ninth night of the calm, the geranium had opened into a flower as wide as a man's palm. Its petals were black as tar and edged in a red that looked wet, and a row of yellow seeds ran round its heart like buttons on a coat. At its centre sat a pale shape, half a hand, half a moon. Below it, two dark sprigs curled like fern fronds that had never seen daylight. The crew came up with their lanterns and stood with their caps in their hands, and nobody spoke until the wind came back from the west, cold and steady, and the sails filled with a sound like a held breath let go.

They raised the Scillies two days later. Hester pressed one black petal between the pages of the ship's Bible, and Abel, who had never once kept his word to anyone, kept the clay pot on his own sill in Penzance until the day he died.