Just published O Oleiro

 

Available in a few days from wherever eBooks are sold (Amazon takes a while longer, though).

Coming soon: Potter in Portuguese

 

Chapters 10 List (Shorts & Standalone)

 

ANCIENT ILLUMINATION

ETHEREAL MUSICIAN

GABRIEL

LATTICEWORK

THE ORPHAN

THE POTTER

ILFIN OF ARC

TINSAL

Chapter 10: The Potter (new cover!)

 

What does the god of fire demand of Brendan?

 The problem isn’t his pottery skills. No, the problem lies with his backyard kiln. Every vessel Brendan fires in it ends up shattered. His fault? Oh no!

A commanding voice tells him every attempt he makes will fail … unless he does as it asks. Brendan ropes in his mate Johnny, if only to tell him he’s completely bonkers. They end up in a place they thought never to visit again, a place of nightmares from their childhood.

 Ha, maybe there is a fire god. How does one deal with that?

CHAPTER 10

ENTRANCE

  

MORNING. Gear puddles around us. Rucksacks with food, water, and medical stuff. Rope. Torches. Spare batteries. Phones are charged. Ha, looks to me as if we intend doing more than scouting around the entrance, but I say not a word, allowing Johnny to gather what he regards as essentials. He sent a message to his Janet, telling her he’s helping a mate out today, and is now all business. Most unlike Johnny.

While he mutters away, I go into my studio. Staring at my failures, I know this needs doing. I need to get back to normal. I need to feel supple clay under my questing fingers. I am a potter, not a penitent to some god with delusions. Right? Too right.

Feeling better, decision made, I rejoin Johnny. We’ll drive out to where the road peters out, and hike the rest of the way, a matter of half an hour at most. No long walk into twilight this time.

We’re on our way within minutes, neither offering conversation. Soon enough, we abandon the car, load up and start walking. The morning is fresh, still damp after the rain two nights ago, and birdsong accompanies us. Weaving through the trees on a track only animals now use, we come to the jumble of rocks, and there we stand, mouths agape.

Whatever barrier the local authority put up twenty years ago is no longer in place. The chains that, by all accounts, fenced the area, lie forgotten in the mud, rusting away, barely discernible. One sign remains on a listing and rotting wooden post, but the words are indecipherable. In fact, other than for that sign, the place looks exactly like it did on the day Harriet went in, never to come out with eyes able to see.

“No one remembers,” Johnny grunts.

Harriet’s parents do, I want to say, but don’t. “We’ll make a stink about this when we go back,” I promise instead.

Nodding, Johnny moves forward. We then commence a dedicated search of the area. Other than deer tracks, we find little. No one has been here in a long time.

Around ten, sitting on a boulder with thermos coffee to hand, I look at my mate. “We’re going in, aren’t we?”

He shrugs, sips his brew.

Yes, we are. We don’t wish to come here a second time. Do it now and be done with it. On the flipside, that means, if successful, I’ll have time enough to fashion a host of planters in the interim. Won’t make my deadline, but I’ll only be a week or so late. The tester will go in the oven when ready and if unbroken after, the large firing can commence. Shaking my head at my mercenary thoughts – gotta eat, dude, relax – I again give attention to Johnny.

His eyes have narrowed. “Look there. There, to the left. Do those rocks look pulverised to you?”

They do. It looks as if a giant trod there as he entered. Fanciful? Maybe, but my heart suddenly thumps against my ribs.

THE POTTER

* new cover not yet live online

Now available: the Potter's audio book!

 

Elaina Davidson · THE POTTER: Will you listen now?

Now reviewing ...

 

In production: The Potter's audio book

 

The Potter Spanish Edition

Just clicked publish!

Live: The Potter (& Chapter 1)

Quicker than expected, the Potter is live! Below is a link and also Chapter 1 :)

 

CHAPTER 1

CLAY

  

RIGHT. Clay chosen. Earthenware this time because it means my kiln fire doesn’t need to be as hot. I’m hoping less heat equals more success. Sure, the end product is not as durable, but hey, I’m reaching for something else here.

Wheel is spinning. Check. Tools to hand. Check.

Sparing a glance for the shattered remains of recent attempts that went, well, wrong, I toss the wedged piece of clay upon the wheel, and lean in. Didn’t allow the others to dry long enough before firing, I muse for the umpteenth time. Or maybe air remained in the clay, which means I didn’t wedge as well as I know how to … argh, stop it. deflecting with excuses doesn’t help. Focus on this new project.

Gradually the planter I have in mind takes shape, the walls assuming a quarter of an inch thickness. The latter is all about feel, not measurement. One eventually ‘feels’ when the optimum breadth is reached. Takes much trial and error to attain that kind of instinct, though, but once you know, you know. I grunt my amusement. Sometimes the chatterbox is in overdrive while leaning over the wheel. It’s not always zen, trust me.

Lately nothing in my life has been zen.

Focus.

As the wheel ceases its spin, I study the ovoid vessel I have created. Smooth, with textured lines at intervals. When the clay has hardened somewhat, I’ll engrave the design I have in mind to wrap around it.

Deflating puffed cheeks, I acknowledge that creating a few more this day doesn’t sit right. This one is a test, I feel it in my bones, so best not hedge bets now in making others. Right? Too right. Time to walk away with fingers crossed.

So far, all is as it should be … and so had the others been at this point. All the others will go just great as well, I know already, for I’ve been creating vessels for years now and am more than comfortable in my chosen craft. It’s the firing that has become the issue, and I won’t know how this one performs until it’s dry. Given the inclement weather, with the promise of a proper unleashing within hours, that may be weeks away. Only then dare I offer it to the god of fire in my blackened brick oven out back.

Seven vessels are currently ready for the furnace, and four more will be in a few days, but as I’m low on sawdust at the moment, I can walk away this day.

Right. I do exactly that.

Can’t believe how relieved I feel.

THE POTTER

Just published The Potter

Now in review on Amazon. Links to follow when live :)

 

What does the god of fire demand of Brendan?

 The problem isn’t his pottery skills. No, the problem lies with his backyard kiln. Every vessel Brendan fires in it ends up shattered. His fault? Oh no!

 A commanding voice tells him every attempt he makes will fail … unless he does as it asks. Brendan ropes in his mate Johnny, if only to tell him he’s completely bonkers. They end up in a place they thought never to visit again, a place of nightmares from their childhood.

Ha, maybe there is a fire god. How does one deal with that?