Excerpt: Joy and the Unicorn King

In the Caldera, the people lived in light and dark. A hole in the middle of mountains, the Caldera was a mountain in reverse, a depression instead of a peak, a round valley, with ridges all around. On the beautiful western slopes, the people saw the sun rise every day, yellow and warm, brightly for them. They opened their eyes out of sleep onto beams from the sun. Husbands and wives threw back their curtains, squinting affectionately. For the people on those green western slopes, morning came early. Sugar pea plants bloomed, opened flowers at dawn. Horses and cows were fed promptly by farmers whose breakfast was warm. Water boiled briskly. Windows were cleaned regularly. And in the evening, as it passed by that Western ridge, the sun winked out like an electric light, one moment there, the next gone. When the sun was gone, the people went to bed. In the morning, when the sun came back, they got up right away.

On the eastern slope, where Noah lived, it was hard for the people to get up in the morning, because of the darkness. On the eastern slope the sun came later but stayed longer, lingering in shadow. Those who lived on that darker slope, that sharper, more twisted slope, could still see out their windows, early in the morning. Across the Caldera, they could see all the sunshine hitting those other people, warming their roofs, entering their windows. But for the people on the eastern slope, light came almost at noon. It was the peril of living on a steep slope, on a round earth. Life was not without its benefits. In the evening there were beautiful colors, westward. There were warm slanting rays. They could almost bear their lives, almost enjoy what little dinner they were able to scrounge together. But then, in a way, the oranges and purples, the pink streaking clouds, created such a lovely frame around the Western slope homes, that it became irritating.