You can now purchase Eden: The Animals’ Parable by Keith Korman with art by Lisa Paris as either an e-book or paperback on Amazon and other online retailers (or ask your local bookstore to order it!)
Here is the description:

"Ask the animals, and they will teach you" –Job 12:7
Experience the Gospels in a way that you never imagined.
In this beautifully inspired retelling of the Gospels, we see Jesus and his disciples in the Holy Land through the eyes of the animals–especially his intrepid and loyal dog, Eden.
With a wise, old donkey, innocent lambs, and legions of curious field mice–the animals follow their master’s journey across Galilee and onto Jerusalem, rapt with awe and wonder and bearing great tidings–even if they don’t fully comprehend the divine events they witness.
Simple, clear, and spiritually profound, Eden is for readers of all ages, this artful retelling is captivating, moving, and alive with the joy you felt the first time you opened the Bible.
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Keith Korman is a literary agent and novelist. Over the years he has represented many nationally-known writers of fiction and non-fiction at his family’s literary agency, Raines & Raines. The idea for Eden first came to him as a child when he saw the little calf jump across the stable in the prelude to Willian Wyler’s Ben Hur. And he’s been thinking about it ever since.
Lisa Paris started painting late in life. She lives in a log cabin in the woods surrounded by all manner of critters. And a husband. This is her first book.
Here is an excerpt re-imagining one of the most memorable moments of the New Testament from a unique perspective.
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The Women
Then there were the women: one who begged them to save her, and the other who cursed Eden’s master with all her might. Two women brought before them on the same day, both in a muddy street, beside the damp canvas stalls of merchants in a marketplace. The woman who begged them, they saved, and left her behind for she did not join them.
But the other who cursed with all her might stayed with them until the end.
That day the clouds rolled in over the sea and pelted their road with rain all morning. A troop of soldiers on horseback galloped past with the heavy thunder of hooves, kicking up wet dirt. Their faces splattered, their robes drenched, Samson the donkey a clopping mess, and Eden’s silvery fur spiky where she’d run through puddled craters. Sodden lambs followed without complaint but none of them laughed. By the time Eden’s master, the companions, Samson and the lambs entered the village they each wore the same coat of mud.
Stone houses passed on either side. The travelers felt a kind of dank anger clinging to the town, like dirty smoke hanging in the air. Before even finding some shelter–a merchant’s stall or even the wet awning of an inn–the animals heard rumblings around the corner. The stone walls echoed with stamping feet and harsh voices.
An angry crowd burst out into the main way. An ugly mob: townsfolk, camel boys, wicked children and righteous hags, all shouting spittle-flecked oaths. They had chased a woman into the street. The hounded woman fell as she fled; then crawled through a puddle, wailing for anyone to help her.
Once again, Eden saw the Hollow Man standing close by.
Their Adversary lurked in the shelter of an arcade, then joined the crowd. Coming out from the overhang into the rain, he held out a handful of wet stones from the street, going from face to face, urging anyone who met his gaze to take them from his cupped hands. Flitting from person to person like a nagging fly, he spoke in this one’s ear, gripped another’s wrist, goading anyone who would listen, "Look how she begs. Can’t you tell she’s guilty? She’s guilty."
The crowd reared up with a hundred clenched fists. They filled the street and rammed the stalls, jostling in all directions. The lambs were stepped on, bleating, and Samson turned his rear to kick–
Eden recoiled at the crowd, afraid of being trampled too.
The woman crawled on all fours to their master’s feet and clutched the hem of his robe, her spirit broken. The rain pelted down and the woman’s tears vanished on the wet paving stones.
Fear crept into Eden’s limbs as the woman lay on the ground, too defeated to even plead for her life. But like that moment on the river-bank where Eden had seen the drowning lamb, the cluster of fear hardened to a knot of courage.
And suddenly there was no more thinking to be done–
Eden leapt in front to guard the woman’s body.
And as the dog stood her ground the woman’s scent filled Eden’s head. The smell of disgrace clung to her skin as though she lived among refuse, spoiled fish heads and moldy cloth–along with the stench of abandon, the stink of men waiting at her dwelling either in shame or lust or just because they knew she was there. For all travelers crossed her threshold, her doorway open to all comers.

Eden could see the place, a room of squalor, harsh perfume, stained curtains and threadbare pillows. A place where candle wax pooled on the tables, spilled wine on the floor and sweat filled the air. But that was just a scent that clung to a person, not her insides.
The woman herself did not smell of evil, just desperation and loneliness. Come to grovel and beg for her life. Eden did not clearly under-stand the woman’s sin, but in her own way Eden understood why the crowd was angry. The woman had sinned against the pack and now the pack had turned on her.
Eden faced the mob. The dog bared her teeth, her fur bristled and she growled low.
"No closer! None of you!"
Eden spied their Adversary slyly grinning at her from behind two caravan slaves. Oh, yes, he remembered her well.
The first stone hit Eden as she stood over the broken woman, making her yelp. But she didn’t run. The Hollow Man sneered, and picked up another stone. The woman cowered at their master’s feet; she clasped his muddy ankles. Her frantic fingers picked at his worn sandal, as if the thin leather thongs might save her as she waited for the next blow. Any moment there’d be another stone, and then an-other, and then a dozen.
Eden growled again and stood her ground.
The mob’s wrath caught in its throat. They held their stinking breath.
And no stone flew. Instead they shuffled back.
Because of a growling dog? Or because Eden’s master refused to leave the woman’s side, standing over them both? He reached down to the woman picking at his feet, took her hands from his sandals and then raised her up as she clutched his mud-splattered robe. He wiped the tears from her streaked face with the hem of her sleeve. But in total defeat, the woman sank to her knees, clutching a length of his cloak simply to steady herself.
A man in the front of the crowd raised a fist with a stone inside.
Eden could see their Adversary breathing words at the back of his head.
Yet something in her master’s manner made the man pause. The rock weighed his hand down to his side. Eden pushed up against the woman, sheltering her. The dog could feel her body tremble. Their master stood his ground and reached into his purse. Searched for a moment and brought forth the two small stones: the black stone, white inside–and the white stone, its insides black.
He held the two small stones in his open palm; presenting them before the arc of ugly faces.
As if to say, Take mine.
As if to say, Use them first on me.
The mob held back, afraid to move. But the Hollow Man was not through prodding them. The clever creature kept whispering from ear to ear, the angry crowd reacting with every word. Eden could feel him too, his false smiles and doubting frowns, whatever served his purpose, offering false courage like bad wine. And soon the wretched faces began to laugh. To sneer.What harm from two little pebbles? Let this muddy wanderer throw. Go ahead throw, Wise Man. There’s nothing you can do to us.
As if in answer her master gently cast the two stones upon the muddy street.
The two stones rolled beside a brown puddle. Rubbed together for so long you could plainly see the black inside the white stone and the white inside the black.

Pick up mine, he seemed to say.
Use my two stones.
But no one moved to take them.
The false courage in this pack of humans began to wither.
"Go on!" the Hollow Man hissed from deep within the crowd. "What are you waiting for?"
Eden’s master stood his ground.
The rain began to lighten as rivulets ran down the house fronts like weeping tears, down stone drains, flowing away to nothing. The clouds tore themselves to shreds above their heads and many hands began to tremble. Each man or woman feeling their sins upon themselves, dousing their anger, as the clouds rent ragged slashes in an open sky.
And her master stood his ground staring at the cowed faces. As if to say–
He who is without sin…
As if to say–
Cast the first stone.
Did he actually speak out loud? Or did Eden hear it only in her mind?
He must have spoken.
For no one in the crowd moved or said a word. Or threw a stone.
The mob’s anger dissolved like salt in water, leaving nothing but a bitter taste. In a few moments Eden lost sight of the Hollow Man. Their Adversary seemed to give up and fade into the bowels of the crowd. And in another few moments the crowd itself began to break apart, for nothing really held this pack together except hate for this poor woman who had breached their laws. All the life had gone out of each and every ugly face, and with it, their common purpose. Soon the street stood empty. When Eden looked for Samson and the lambs, she saw they had retreated from the crowd, standing in a knot with the companions.
Leaving only Eden.
Her master.
And the woman at his feet.
Eden licked the woman’s face and tasted the common mud of every common town. The woman smiled back at Eden with all her heart–
A cup of thanks, filled to overflowing.
The woman no longer smelled of sin, or the stink of strangers or harsh perfume. Her endless downfall had been gently broken by the offer of two stones, now lying by a muddy puddle. Two stones rubbed together for so long you could plainly see the black inside the white stone and the white inside the black.
Now like every other pebble in the street.
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