Enlarged with AI from a smaller original
Wavy line tattoo down the spine
Fine line · Back · Black and grey · Photo
A woman sits with her back to the camera, shown from the shoulders to the hips. A thin black tattoo of a looping, wave-like line runs vertically down the centre of her spine. The image is dark and muted, with a graffiti-covered wall and a wooden floor in the background.
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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction
The drift came over the top of the ridge on the third night, and by morning the road to Hallow Cross had vanished under it like a sentence someone had crossed out. My father kept the Ram's Head for forty years and never once let a guest sleep in the cold room, so I put the Dunmere couple in the blue room and fed the stove until my arms ached.
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The rope came from the garret. Mrs Pell found it while she was airing the sheets, a length of cord coiled under the eaves, its fibres stiff with old salt though we are a hundred miles from any sea. Someone had worked a looping pattern into it, crest after crest, and when she pulled it free the loops hissed against the boards like surf drawing back.
Nobody claimed it. Mr Dunmere, who had sailed as a boy, said the knots were a sheet bend and a fisherman's loop, the sort of thing a man ties to mark a line across the snow in a white-out. I thought of the carriers who used to walk the valley road with lanterns, one hand on a rope, feeling for the way home.
On the fourth morning the sky cleared and the drift lay in long curved ridges across the fields, rising and falling like the coil in Mrs Pell's hands. We followed the rope out to the gate. I tied the end to the post myself, and the road ran from there, clean and visible, all the way down to the village.
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