Making Wakes
With colleges going in the direction they are and college students struggling to find their voice, I think it’s time we take a break from all that. So today I’m going to tell you the story of a village and why no one hears from them anymore.
This village was in the middle of nowhere; vast fields lay beyond it one way and empty roads the other. Most people were in this village because their parents were there, and they felt some obligation to stay. The village was very traditional; they held parties on Fridays, played target ball (a vaguely similar sport to dodgeball), and had a code of values. Although there was not much, the code of values covered the basics; don’t kill, steal, cheat, or lie, and feel free to punish those who do.
This village ran without a hitch for hundreds of years, the creatures that adorned the village were happy; they socialized, were intelligent (given the comparing creatures), and were loud, vibrant, and diverse. But, of course, someone had to be in charge; even a village needs a sheriff, a governor, a mayor, someone to guide or punish. So these villagers had a whole functioning government for their Sheriff and the Sheriff’s committee of brains.
The brains tended to be the most intelligent people of the village who could keep the other villagers in the loop of what the Sheriff was doing, if anything. Now for years, the sheriffs were pretty nice to the villagers. Then, of course, there was the good and evil, but overall, they got along. However, as always happens to good things, they must end.
The most recent Sheriff had retired; he wanted to hunt for dragons in caves and far from the villagers to stop him. So, a new sheriff was needed. The new Sheriff was also new to the town, which shocked the villagers, but she won them over with her boasts of the town she is from and all the experience she had. The villagers figured it was a job they didn’t want to do, and their lives would not change no matter who held the position.
They soon realized they were wrong. Although the villagers had always had a sheriff, they were used to some of life’s finer things. They were used to talking to whomever they wanted about whatever they wanted, no matter how vulgar; they also adored their art hall. It had sculptures; sliming oozing works that depicted their feelings. It had places for them to sit, places to drink, and places to enjoy their fellow villagers’ art, no matter how oozing, colorful, or messy. Above all else, they were social creatures who wanted to enjoy things in life; their target ball teams were about strength and creating a diverse group; some villagers could fly, others were long-armed for throwing, and some were so small it was questioned if they could be hit by accident.
These were just the facts of life. It was the things they enjoyed every day, or so they thought. The new Sheriff, who they lovingly called Sherrif Wakes, decided that the villagers needed reform. To be like other villages, they needed less anarchy and more structure. She, of course, did not tell the brains this; the brains never were able to meet with her despite their best efforts. So they assumed all was well and they were not needed.
The next day there was a new post on their bulletin board. The post read there shall be no talk of the village, the village inhabitants, anything negative, and most importantly, no bad talk of Sherrif Wakes. The villagers, of course, were outraged. They lunged at the brains asking how they could do this and why they would approve it. The brains were just as confused as everyone else was, explaining that they would’ve stopped this if they had known.
Everyone in the village was yelling, some were throwing fruit, and some had just returned home, resigned to never speaking again since they could not comply with these demands. Hearing this commotion, Sherrif Wakes came out of her shack and demanded to know what was wrong with fear in her eyes. The brains filled her in sternly about how the creatures of the village did not want to be restricted with what they could talk about. She stared for a bit before a grin splayed across her face.
“Oh no, no, no. You have it all wrong”, she soothed as she circled the villagers. “I would never want to stop you from talking; I just want you to talk quieter.” There was excitement in her face like she had just won some argument that only she knew about. Some of the villagers decided one mistake was okay and went on about their business. Others held a grudge, and a select few decided this was too much; they came together and started protesting; they yelled and refused to listen to Sherrif Wakes.
All the villagers thought that would be the end of things, and life would go on sadly, that wouldn’t make much of a story. Soon there were more posts on the bulletin board saying that their artwork would be moved into a filing cabinet only to be looked at when necessary, and their target ball teams could no longer have multiple types of creatures on each team. To put it nicely, this had become a dictatorship.
When the villagers protested again, Sherrif Wakes decided to give them a say. She allowed one of the brains to sit in her office while she made decisions, and that brain could say his thoughts on the issue. However, she had every right to completely ignore that brain, making his presence pretty much useless. Now both the villagers and the brains had enough.
The brains had now joined in on the protests and were revealing things Sheriff Wakes had done, that they were not said anything. Sherrif Wakes tried to backtrack, but it was in vain. While she may remain the Sheriff, the villagers have decided she has no control and is ready to fight her every step of the way to keep the traditions they loved.
Sadly, this is where the story ends; they refused to have their speech infringed, so they quit talking. As a result, their art is gone, and no one knows what happened to them. Once loud, proud, and full of tradition (much like the Aggies at Texas A&M), they have now sadly faded away in the wind.
