Respect

Things are not always what they seem...

Once in a far away land in a remote kingdom set deep into a hillside, lived a small community. It wasn’t a very rich or extravagant place to reside, as the natives were simple folk who were happy to live together in harmony. Each individual mingled and co-existed with mutual pride, tolerance and acceptance of each other’s differences. So much so, that the villager’s nicknamed the place RESPECT.

One day a very odd thing happened to RESPECT – and no one is sure how it came about, but this is what transpired.

It was a hot and lazy summer’s night and most ordinary folk had settled down for the night. And altho' the king's servants were going about their normal routine, not one of them noticed in the half light that mischief was afoot - taking the form of an unknown shape. They tended the King's animals, prepared food for the following day, and drew water from the only well in the kingdom. Working with diligence and conviction as people with contented dispositions usually do, unaware that from this night hence, the village would become affected in a most profound but unseen manner.

As the summer sky light melted into darkness… and the well that had brought life to generations faded from sight…. and the village was still. The deed was done.

Upon the morning to the outside gaze everything looked exactly like they had the day before… cows grazed in their fields; villagers bustled about carrying out their daily routines; a picture book sun warmed the air and chattering filled the ears of everyone… but all was not right. Things were not as they seemed, for with each mouthful of water drawn from the well, mischief passed their lips. It moved like a canker to invade the harmonious contentment, growing in strength and vileness with each sip. A strange cloud of paranoia began to grip the thoughts of the villagers and strangle their mutual deference.

Men, Women and children alike began to act with increasing self interest; their view justified by the knowledge that all others did the same, and that they should protect themselves against the evil deeds others would do unto them. They wrapped themselves in a blanket of misery which they sugar-coated with the pretence of being as happy as they once were. Each one pretending for fear that others would realise that they were damaged and cause them unseen ‘harm’.

RESPECT was dying and no one noticed nor cared.

Only the King had not drunk from the well. His anger could be heard far across his lands and beyond as he tried to reach deep into the minds of his beloved people. The very earth shook with his rage and frustration as he sought to shake them free from the delusions that held them ignorant prisoners of their own poisoned thoughts. He shouted with disappointment and appealed with compassion… to which the villagers listened and watched with affection, for they loved their great King. But all too soon patience gave out and rumours germinated in the mouths of the villagers that their once mighty leader was no longer like them… Why did he act this way? Was he mad?

As the seasons passed the villagers began to forget that they were even pretending. All thoughts of caring and being cared for by others dissipated like a misted memory, leaving the village to be cold and unmoving, cynical and untrusting.

The King felt fear. His burden was indeed heavy, for how could he care for his people if they imprisoned him for madness? …… He fell silent and wept privately for his people who had been poisoned from the well but did not know it. He knew that no words could rouse them. Reason was dead to them. He remained confused and vulnerable amidst so many people now all too ready to shame him for being different, but pretended to have drunk deep of the well, whilst all the time secretly craving a way back from this new world which lacked human contact and warmth. Back to a moment where human kindness would once again bring trust, love and understanding, where he might lay his weary head upon the lap of another soul who shared his escaped from mischief.

Years passed…….

The king continued to cry through loneliness and despair… his tears flowed and mingled with the rainwater which flowed to replenish the well. Outcast and marginalised this once proud man grew tired of pretending and found little remaining pleasures in the rhythm of the desperation. He gave up carving smiles from the ironies that slipped by unnoticed like fallen silken handkerchiefs discarded without care. His spirit felt crushed. His heart hardened and his soul blackened.

Solace found him far from the village where his new laws did not care to reach. Only nature offered him understanding as he wandered over abandoned fields that clung to the distance like a mantle cocooning the horrors that had transformed the land he grew to detest.

He sat a while and lamented as he had on so many other occasion that if only he had drank deep from the well that night….. oblivion would have taken him and saved him from this dreadful state. A state where he would be bound for all time to scan the faces of others to seek out another such as he, who had not drunk from the poisoned well but knowing he would be unable to utter a word should the chance ever come his way, for the fear of being wrong.

But hope is a hard task master and despite his sadness, the King’s sorrowful heart lived on and his search continued……