White ink heart with swirls on an arm
Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo
A heart outline filled with curling spiral swirls is tattooed in white ink on pale skin. The fine, slightly raised linework is crisp, and a small solid heart sits near the lower right edge of the design. The image is shown close up against a dark background, with the design filling most of the frame.
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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction
The frost had come down in the night, and by the time you reached the edge of the wood the stream was a grey ribbon under a skin of ice. Old Maud from the last cottage had sent you out for the pale lichen that grows on the north side of the birches, the kind she boiled for the cough. You knelt where the roots of the first beech humped up out of the leaf litter and began to scrape.
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Something caught your eye on the trunk above you. Someone had cut a heart into the bark, not deep, and inside it the spirals went round and round like the curls on a ram's horn. Each swirl ended in a tight knot, as if whoever made it had lifted the blade and thought better of finishing. Lower down, beside the big heart, sat a smaller one, filled solid. You traced its edge with a thumb and the bark came away pale, the wood beneath bleached like milk.
Maud knew the marks. She said the woodcutter's boy had carved them the winter his sweetheart went to the city and never came back, and that he had walked this path every morning until the spring thaw took him. You didn't believe her, and then you did, because the snow began to fall while you stood there, filling the spirals before you could lift your hand from the bark.
You went home with an empty basket and numb fingers. Maud looked at your face, then at the lichen you hadn't gathered, and said nothing. That night you carried the lamp to the kitchen table, pressed a stick of chalk to a scrap of paper, and drew a heart with a swirl curling through it, and then, small in the corner, a second heart, filled in, for the one who had not stayed.
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