Close photograph of a tiny black fine line tattoo of two upward chevrons on the inner wrist, with the palm visible above.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Two small chevrons on the inner wrist

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

The image shows the inner wrist and lower forearm, with the palm visible at the top of the frame. Two small upward-pointing chevrons sit side by side near the wrist crease, drawn in a single thin, dark black line. The skin is pale and evenly lit against a wooden floor, and the tattoo is the only point of colour in the composition.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Tuesday, 14th March 1956. The big spring tide came in past the second bollard again this morning, further than anyone expected. Mr Pascoe from the council handed me the tin of white paint and said the tide-mark job was mine now, since Father's chest has got too bad for the iron ladder. He said it as if it were a small thing, and I suppose to him it is.

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I climbed down at low water with the brush between my teeth. Weed was slick on every rung and the stone was cold and furred with green. I scraped a clean patch the width of my palm before I could mark it. Two chevrons, pointing up, the way Father showed me when I was small. The sea only ever comes up to meet you, he used to say. It never comes down to find you.

The harbour boys watched from the quay and laughed at the girl on the ladder. I didn't care. Ted Lowry's boat, the Mary Ann, has not come in since Saturday, and the marks on that wall are the only tally anyone in Porthkell keeps honestly. Each spring tide I write the date beside them, so that whoever comes after can see how far the water has climbed in their lifetime.

When I got back up, the flood had already crept over the bottom rung and taken my scraping away. Only my two chevrons stayed, a little crooked, and by evening the tide had them too. Tomorrow I will go down again with the brush and paint them where the water used to be.

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