General

The beads were the rich browns of the earth, the sort that speak of soul and belonging.

General

She let the beads sit in her palm, their iridescent brightness reminding her of the solar system.

General

The beads rolled upon the table in their freeform way, settling into a pretty pattern brought to her by chance and good luck.

General

They were antique beads from an old fine gown, reclaimed to become whatever her imagination could conjure. She was, after all, the best kind of creative wizard.