Potter’s Hands

Wait. Wait. Wait on Me. The slow drum of fingers on my soul, feather touches, teaching, drawing, spreading, the secret work in hidden places, until breathing clay hangs on hands it cannot see, and flows into a form it has not known, beautiful, as it was promised to be, this powdered, humbled stone, made living …

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Firedrake Redeemed Chapter 1

A light glinted. Tevyn Marsden looked up. A tapsheet, 8 ½ by 11 inches of wafer-thin microcircuitry mimicking paper, floated slowly across the airless operations center, alternately flashing its shiny back and page 19 of someone’s mystery novel as it rotated on its long axis...