The Jar of Colors

When I woke up, I was in a hammock. The canning jar was lying on the sand, its lid open. Leading up to it was a set of tiny bird footprints and what seemed to be. . .broomstraw.

“You stink of alcohol,” I said to the jar.
“Be a friend and rinse me out,” it moaned.
I took it to the ocean and filled it with water. A sharp arc of water and something that smelled like jet fuel shot past my ear.
“That witch can DRINK,” the jar moaned.
“Were you with Pris last night? And the bird?”
“Ummmm. No. Absolutely not. I was powering up for a trip to see the weavers,” the jar said.
“What a liar,” I muttered. Using my shirt, I dried it out and shut the lid, pulling a bit of burlap sack out of the hinge as I closed the lid.
“Stop slamming the lid so hard!” it hissed.
I chuckled. The beach was alive with music and dancing, flowers, sunlight and joy.
“It’s a perfect day, what do you want to do?” I asked the jar.
“Sleep. Hold my lid until the thumping goes away,” the jar muttered.
“Oh, come on,” I cheered him on, “Weavers don’t make much noise.”
I wasn’t sure which direction to go in when I saw the Bird of Paradise, pointing the way.
“This has an Alice in Wonderland feel to it,” I said, “Signs keep showing up, but I’m not sure if they are real or not. And that old woman said we had to separate Truth from Fact. But let’s go left. It seems to be the right way.”
“Stop confusing me,” said the jar. “L’Enchanteur mentioned the mosaics. Let’s go see those.”
“Fine, we can go see the weavers later,” and I turned in the other direction.
We walked through town and asked directions for the mosaics.
“You don’t go to them, they come to you,” one person said.
“Just wait awhile and keep your eyes open,” said another.
I was starting to get hungry, but the Canning Jar wasn’t interested in food.
“Let’s walk down here and see if we can find the mosaics,” it said.
The “here” was an alley. I wasn’t so sure, but so far the people seemed friendly enough. If a little vague.
We had just stepped into the alley when thunder rumbled across the sky and the alley turned dark. I didn’t like it. I began to run out of the alley. A shadow fell across the way.
I stopped until I could see what it was attached to. It was big.
And impressive.
A lion mosaic stood at the end of the alley. It looked one way, then at me.
“Give me the jar,” the mosaic lion said.
“Can’t. I need it to get back home,” I said.
The lion turned toward me. He stepped into the alley. It began to rain. With the lion at one end, and the length of the alley behind me, I thought I’d make a run for it. I spun on the slick asphalt, and as I began to run, the Canning Jar slipped out of my hands. I turned to pick it up, but the lion scooped it up.

I couldn’t let him keep it, but I wasn’t sure I could win the fight with a lion, either. That meant I had to act fast. I reached over and the lion swatted at me. I glanced at the jar. It had never been so dark.
“What do you want with that useless jar?” I asked.
“I thought you needed it to get home,” the lion said.
“No, I said, you needed to go home,” I lied.
“I need a gift to appease Triton,” the lion said. “I hate getting wet, so i thought I’d throw him the jar and he’d be appeased.”
“That jar isn’t going to appease Triton,” I said, “It’s an old canning jar. I saw a nice bird of paradise back on the path from the beach, he may like that more.”
The lion considered this. He shook the jar, which rattled slightly, but was silent and dark.
“Maybe you’re right,” said the lion. The jar bounced slightly as he dropped it, and rolled toward my feet. I scooped it up and slipped past the lion as he looked toward the Beach Road.
“PPPLLLPTTTT” yelled the canning jar. “I got a-wa-aay”
I didn’t even wait to see what the lion was doing, I was racing down the street, away from the beach. I needed some space between that angry cat and me. Truth was, he was the faster runner. But it was a fact that sculpture can’t outrun panicked human. We were gone in a flash.
“Are you insane?” I yelled when we were safely out of the lion’s reach.
“Are you kidding me?” the jar said, “I got you out of the lie by playing dumb and dark. It’s time to eat. I hope you have some money in those pockets.”

–Lion mosaic: The Lion of Flanders, Ilona J. Passino, San Marcos, Ca. Stained glass & Italian marble mosaic. Photographs of lion and bird of paradise by Quinn McDonald (c) 2008. All rights reserved.