Marina Gold — Casting Updated
Inside, the air was thick with decades. Dust motes floated in amber light. Marina pulled the chain on a bare bulb and gasped.
When she broke the final mold, the little bronze girl stood on her own two feet. Her hand was still raised. Her face was smooth, unfinished, open. marina gold casting
Inside, wrapped in oilcloth, was a wax original. A small figure—a girl of about eleven, standing on tiptoe, one hand reaching for something just out of frame. The wax was soft from heat and time, the features smudged, but Marina recognized the posture. It was her own. The summer she’d visited, terrified and fascinated, reaching up to touch a half-finished mold on a high shelf. Inside, the air was thick with decades
She started with the hand.
Then she lit the kiln for the next one.
