Evan Marcroft’s story “The Color of My Home is Red Like an Apple” was published in Metaphorosis on Friday, 29 March 2019.
This story emerged from a lifelong grappling with the fundamental hurdle that I perceived in the concept of religion. I was never one to put faith in any process that could not be studied directly, and so I was somewhat puzzled by those in my life who held up the laws of their faith as objective, somehow inherent to the universe, although I could respect the joy their beliefs brought into their lives. From my subjective point of view, these individuals were being pushed to become or do things for the sake of precepts laid down long before they were born, that they were in fact born into, without a choice. This story is an expression of my philosophy, which is not that religion is automatically untrue, but rather that faith — as well as its associated codes — should be a choice, that nothing deserves to be done just because it’s what was done before you. The Hhmuadi in this story may be happy with the lives that their god has given them, but at the same time they were denied the chance to have any other sort of life of their own creation. They are willing and yet unwilling bearers of its will. When Anan destroys that god at the end of the story, she is not overthrowing some tyrannical rule, but rather giving her people the choice to either move on from the culture that her god has created or remain in it in the faith that their god, even broken, is true. Either outcome is good so long as it is what they want.
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