Artwork by Jessica Somers. The interconnectivity of this piece I felt complimented what I was trying to do with my story. I was inspired to write this story from reading and listening to Thomas King tell “The Truth About Stories.”
In not quite the beginning of creation, nor not quite the end, a Being existed. Our Being. Like all other Beings, ours’ was formless; only conscious thought marked it as existing. And much like the other Beings, ours’ was determined to find where it fit into the rest of existence.
Our Being wandered. It wandered over grassy plains filled with field mice. It wandered through meadows full of dancing flowers. Until finally, at the edge of the meadow, it came to a river.
The river gurgled and sang as it flowed over rocks, happy as can be. But there was something missing, as beyond the flow of nature, our Being could not see any other life. Across the river our Being noticed another. It too was watching the river.
This other Being, much to ours’ surprise, seemed to be being drawn into the river; it crept closer and closer until all of a sudden, the Being exploded!
This was not a violent explosion as one might think. Rather it was more of a burst of energy; of excitement; of wonder. For the Being across from ours had burst into hundreds of fish to populate the river.
“Wait!” Cried out our Being to the one that was now Fish, “Wait! Please tell me how you knew you wanted to be fish!”
Just as our Being thought it would not get an answer, Fish swam up to it and eyed it from the riverbed. To flow is to be happy, Fish replied, telling our Being its story. In its uncreation this Being had enjoyed moving with the flow and thought such an existence would suit it just fine.
While flowing along sounded like a nice existence, our Being didn’t think it could enjoy it for all that long. Having had its answer, our Being thanked Fish and moved on.
Traveling further inland, our Being came across a dense forest with a game path cut through the middle. Wondering what kind of creatures would live in such a place, our Being entered the forest.
It wasn’t long before our Being came across the creature known as Bear. “Oh, Bear.” Wailed our Being, “Tell me what made you choose to live in the forest.”
To lumber is to be happy, Bear replied, telling our Being its story. In its uncreation this Being had enjoyed taking in the scenery at a slow pace, and thought to be a big burly creature, with all the time in the world, would suit it just fine.
Our Being didn’t think lumbering around slowly sounded like that much fun, so it thanked Bear for its answer and moved on.
Continuing down the path, our Being began to notice the tree were thinning out. They become so sparse that our Being could see just up ahead there was a clearing. In the middle of this clearing, there was a strange structure; it was like nothing our Being had ever seen in nature before. Curious beyond belief, our Being made its way up to the structure.
“Hello?” Cried out our Being, “What place is this?”
When no answer was returned, our Being entered through a largish opening. Within the structure was a room full of furniture made from branches woven together. The most notable of all was a large table in the middle of the room. Drawing closer, our Being noticed on top of this large table a smallish box sat.
Our Being crept closer, wondering what might be inside this box, unaware that the box was whispering to it, beckoning it closer, begging our Being to just crack the lid, if only for a moment.
“Stop!” a voice rang out from the opening of the structure, but our Being was much too drawn to the box and lifted the lid; just a crack.
But a crack was all it took.
From within, Beings, much darker than ours, escaped from the box. Our Being was shocked at the evil within these other Beings’ stories. They circulated the space within the structure, wailing and whining all the while. They promised to bring to the world violence, starvation and disease before finally escaping through the opening of the structure, and out into the world.
Our Being collapsed to the floor and began to cry. “Oh why! Why could I not leave the box alone?” It wept out of fear for what it had released unto the world.
“Please don’t cry,” spoke the voice from before. Our Being looked to see another, much like itself, nearby. “For though once you have told a story you can never take it back, I will work to tell more stories to outweigh those that bring you despair.” And with that the Being turned into a woman.
Our Being stared in wonder, and suddenly felt that all would be right in the world, if only it chose to stay with this Being. And so, our Being turned into a man. “We must be careful of the stories [we] tell, AND the stories [we] listen to, but I think spending eternity telling them with you would make for a nice existence.”
FIN
After I had written this story, I read it to my parents.
I first read it to my dad whose only comment was to say the ending was cute. He seemed to like it but through our conversation he didn’t seem to understand the point of the story. I don’t think he’s been read a story in a long time though.
Later, I read it to my mom. She too hasn’t had a story read to her in a long time and she commented that it was a different experience to have a story be told than to read it oneself. She understood that the story was supposed to contain a moral, but with me reading it to her, she was confused as to where exactly the moral was (I had prefaced the story by telling her it was the creation of evil). She became more stuck on what I considered little aspects (i.e. our Being turning into a man at the end — its just a fable, or a creation story in my mind; my thinking was that we as humans are storytellers, so what better way to combat evil but by telling stories that weren’t evil. In order to do so, one would need a voice, so my story ended with the creation of humans).
After this experience I would not consider myself a good storyteller based on the reactions of my parents. My mom commented that there was emotion in the story because of the way that I told it; I’m still unsure if the emotion I wanted to convey is the same one she felt.
This “Creation of Evil” story was originally told by Leslie Silko in “Ceremony” and later retold by Thomas King in “The Truth About Stories.“
Works Cited
King, Thomas. The Truth About Stories. House of Anansi Press, 2010.
Silko, Lesli. Ceremony. Penguin Publishing Group, 2006.
Somers, Jessica. Symbolism. Indigenous Art Collective of Canada, 14 Oct 2020, https://passthefeather.org/jessica-somers/. Accessed 3 Feb 2020.
Hi Cayla,
Thank you SO much for sharing this story with us! I chose to read this story out loud to have the full effect. As I was reading it out loud a lot of it came naturally to me and I hardly stumbled over my words even though they were written by someone else. I found myself engaged and wanting to know where the story will take me. I was surprised at the ending however when it was the being’s curiosity that got the best of it and that’s how evil was created. It is an interesting concept as oftentimes curiosity can be amazing but it can also ruin great things. As for storytelling, I believe some people are natural-born storytellers. But I also think anyone can be a storyteller, but it depends on your audience and the tone you used while reading it. For me, storytelling is of course about the words said but also how they are said. Sometimes there can be a very informative story but it isn’t engaging because of the person telling it. But then on the other hand there can be a fairly dull story but the way it is told makes it interesting. With this being said, it would be interesting to hear how you read it in comparison to how I read it out loud to myself.
Thanks again for sharing this story with us and looking forward to reading more!
Lenaya Sampson
Your story has a wonderful feel of “orality” to it that I found difficult to pinpoint when I wrote my own story. I enjoyed your evocation and recontextualization of the myth of Pandora in Bear’s dangerous attraction to, and opening of, the box. It’s fascinating to see how this simple concept of fatal curiosity and disobedience can be adapted and readapted to create ever-shifting and ever-fascinating stories. In Japan, there’s the fairy tale of Urashima Taro, who is given as a gift a box he is forbidden from opening; in the end, however, curiosity bests him and he opens the box to terrible consequences. My own story is about curiosity as well – villagers who are tired of hearing the same stories time and again beg a mysterious stranger to give them new narratives, but soon regret this choice.
I also like your collectivization of the Being(s) – you refer to it as “our” Being, and the other Being at the beginning of the story “transforms” into all the world’s fish, referred to collectively as Fish. After all, stories are markers of collective identity.
As to you doubting your storytelling abilities – I think you did a really wonderful job with this story! Your imageries and characterizations were highly evocative and I understood what you were conveying. Storytelling is difficult, and being a good writer doesn’t automatically make one a good storyteller. Here’s a great quote from C.S. Lewis that I found on a page on “The Write Practice” titled “The Difference Between a Write and a Storyteller,” linked below:
“For in Calormen, story-telling (whether the stories are true or made up) is a thing you’re taught, just as English boys and girls are taught essay-writing. The difference is that people want to hear the stories, whereas I never heard of anyone who wanted to read the essays.”
Storytellers breathe life into their narratives and their descriptions. Story is less about conveying narrative and more about conveying feelings and ideas.
Sources:
-A translation of Urashima Taro: https://etc.usf.edu/lit2go/72/japanese-fairy-tales/4881/the-story-of-urashima-taro-the-fisher-lad/
McGann, Kellie. “Are You a Writer or a Storyteller?” The Write Practice, https://thewritepractice.com/are-you-a-writer-or-a-storyteller/#:~:text=The%20Difference%20Between%20a%20Writer,words%2C%20images%2C%20or%20sounds.
Hi Leo~
Thank you so much for your comment!
I find it interesting that my fellow students focused in on my dejection of not being a good storyteller (and am somewhat amused by it too). I wanted to thank you for your encouragement! And the wonderful quote from C.S. Lewis.
I think you’re completely right about being a good writer doesn’t automatically make you a great storyteller — while I have written stories outside of school for the enjoyment of others (and gotten great feedback) I don’t think I’ve ever experienced a good time reading my stories to others out loud. I think part of the reason may be because I write for the reader to experience the flow of thought/emotions themselves, and being their guide in it is hard for me because I know how I felt while writing, and what I want to convey while reading, but there is a disconnect somewhere between my thoughts and my mouth.
Hi Cayla,
I really enjoyed reading your version of this story! One of the commonalities I noticed in quite a few of our colleagues’ stories (including both mine and yours!) was a focus on the curiosity that leads to the story of evil coming into the world; I think this might be a method of reinforcing the second part of the moral: that we all must be careful of the stories we listen to. I found your references to Pandora’s box a very clear way of accomplishing this (at least for me – D’Aulaires Book of Greek Myths was a personal favourite of mine as a child, so the connection between the Being’s box and Pandora seemed natural to me!) – am I correct in assuming the legend of Pandora’s box was an influence on your version of the story?
I also found your comments regarding your parents’ reactions to your story quite fascinating. I found your written storytelling to be quite compelling, so don’t be so quick to discount your abilities as a storyteller! I wonder whether there might be additional layers in the relationship between storyteller and listener that caused the struggles in communication you describe. Do you think the fact that neither of your parents had been told a story in this manner could have been a factor?
Hi Magdalena~
I think you might be right in your observation of my parents being unused to have a story told to them. They grew up in a very different generation that myself (and more than likely the rest of our classmates, you included); whereas I experienced Elders coming and telling stories to me as a kid in school, my parents never had the same experience.
I am, and always will be, a love of mythology, so yes, you are correct in the assumption that I had in the back of my mind Pandora’s box when I was writing my story.
Curiosity being the driving factor felt only natural as when I think of humans, I think of our insatiable appetite to discover the unknown.
Thank you for your comment!