Black and grey tattoo of wings above two crossed blades across the upper back, with script lettering on each side of the spine.

Winged blades and script on a back

Back · Black and grey · Photo

A large black and grey tattoo spans the upper back, showing stylised angular wings with curled flourishes above two upright blades crossed at the centre. Bold outlines and grey shading give the wings a layered, segmented look. Two lines of black lettering run down either side of the spine, and the plain skin and wooden wall in the background keep the focus on the design.

Back Wing Blade Sword Script Lettering Quote

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The sign above the Starling Ballroom had lost three of its feathers in the February gales, and Dolores wanted them back before the Saturday tea dance. She handed me the ladder and a tin of gold paint and said nothing about the knives. The knives were the reason the wings were on the sign at all. Her late husband, Frank, had thrown them across the stage for thirty years, two blades crossed in the spotlight while a girl in sequins stood against the board, and when he retired the crowd kept asking where the swords had gone.

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I found them in a biscuit tin under the cloakroom counter, wrapped in a chamois that smelt of machine oil. Each blade was longer than my forearm, the grip bound in black tape gone grey at the edges. Dolores watched from the bottom rung while I turned one over. 'He always said the trick was weight,' she said. 'Hold it like you're going to lose it, and the audience holds its breath with you.'

I climbed up and painted until my shoulders burned, the segmented feathers catching the light off the promenade. Between coats I thought about the men who came in on Saturdays, cap in hand, asking for one last waltz with a widow, and how Frank had kept the room steady by never once letting the blades fall. It was a small thing to keep alive.

When the last feather was gold, Dolores climbed up beside me, slow with her hip, and tapped the blade hanging from the sign's bracket. 'Leave the pair up there,' she said. 'Somebody ought to remember what it costs to keep them turning.' Then she handed me a rag, and I wiped the paint from my fingers while the sea rolled in beneath the pier.