Clay of Many Colors

There’s a story, you may have heard it, about a fruit that if someone ate it would grant the knowledge of good or evil. The divine planted the fruit bearing tree in the garden and told us not to eat it. Here’s another one, there’s a box (or a jar) that contains all the ills of the world, plus hope. The gods who gave it to the woman they created to open it told her not to open it. The jar was a punishment for the theft of fire, which kept humanity alive. It’s human nature to bite the fruit and open the box (or jar). We let evil into the world. We set fires that keep us warm or burn the forests. We cling to hope too. Strive for better. Slide in the mud. Try again. It’s that mixture of mud and hope that has been much in mind following the election to US president of someone who played on so many of society’s fears. This man didn’t invent the fruit. He didn’t make the jar. They’ve always been part of the fabric of our world. This collection of short fiction examines some of the roots of these fears through a mix of stories from various religious traditions and tales of people simply moving through their days. All of them looking for hope at the bottom of the jar. The sweet taste of the knowledge of good along with the bitter evil. Resist. Persist. Hope.