Black ink lettering in two lines of angular fictional script across the forearm, in a fine lettering style.

Two lines of angular script on a forearm

Lettering · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

The tattoo is two lines of text in an angular, invented script that resembles the Aurebesh alphabet used in Star Wars, with the lower line set slightly offset to the right. The letterforms are solid black with crisp, even edges and a clean, simple outline. The ink sits on pale skin against a blue-grey fabric background, with the photo framed across the forearm.

Lettering Forearm Script

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Gather in, gather in, and mind the step by the cage, for the ground has been wet since Tuesday. You will want to know why the Mirabel Brothers' banner says what it says, because the boys who paint for the fair all ask me, and I always tell them the same thing. Old Tobias Quill painted that sign in the winter of the great frost, when the canvas was stiff as a board. He had no English left in him by then, only the letters he made up for himself on the back of ration tickets.

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He painted two lines across the top of the big tent, and the showmen ran their fingers over them and found nothing but angles. Nobody could read them. The lower line sat a finger's width to the right, the way a man stands when he is trying to be polite to a lady who has not asked him to dance. Tobias said it was so the words could look at each other. The lads laughed at that, but I have known a fair to fold over less.

One night a girl came to the ticket hut asking for her father, a rope-walker who had gone off east with the caravans and never sent word. She could read every letter on the banner, she said, for her grandmother had invented them with Tobias when they were both young and foolish. She put her finger under the first line and read it aloud, and the whole tent went quiet. It was not a name. It was a route, a field, a stone well, and the hour the wagons would pass it.

Tobias's sign is still up, though the paint has gone the colour of weak tea. Every spring I walk the girl's road for her, and every spring the wagons come back. Mind the step now.