Back so many years ago, longer than recent, but not so long as to forget, there was a people, a tribe who lived in a valley surrounded by a great forest. During the day, they lived simply and merrily worked. They grew corn, grains, and squashes. Root vegetables like carrots and potatoes were a favorite. The afternoons were met with sun-drenched naps and refreshing dips in the lake, and the children laughed, and the women sang. They gathered, danced, and told stories… all in the daylight.
But you see, these tribes’ people were scared. When the sun set behind the hills, when darkness overtook their valley, all they could do was huddle together, cold, blind, hopeless. Gripping one another tightly, they shivered, and with each breath, they reminded one another of their shared presence. They feared the darkness, the forest, and the unknown. Cold, dark, and terrifying the night was. But together, night after night, they got through it.
Particularly stormy nights brought rain, repose coming only in brilliant flashes of light met with bone-shattering cracks of thunder and then darkness again. One of these nights brought these flashes closer, quicker, suddenly followed by thunder crashes. Then, as if instantly, a flash lit their valley so bright a great tree seemed to capture it. This light danced upon its branches; it grew more colorful as it climbed higher. Eventually, the great tree lit the entire valley. The lightning and thunder subsided, but this orange, yellow, blue, and sometimes white dancing light remained.
Finally, one of the tribe’s people broke from the huddle. He braved the cold, still shivering alone, and approached the dancing erratic light. As he drew closer, he grew warmer. His shivering stopped. Mesmerized and silhouetted in the dancing shadows, he turned, and with one word, he named it: CHET.
Over time, these tribes learned to control and grow CHET. They learned of its power and danger. The night was no longer dark, the rain was no longer cold, and the darkness was no longer terrifying. Although a few had lost their homes to CHET’s power, it became a welcome presence.
The tribe danced in its erratic light, and it threatened its enemies with its destructive power. It built larger villages and cleared larger forests. These tribes’ people became powerful, and through it all, CHET continued to burn, to glow, to dance…
Over time, these tribes’ people grew careless, the dependent, and sloppy. As their power grew, they found new ways to exploit CHET. Wood became iron. The bow and arrow became a black powder and bullets. Villages turned into towns and then cities. CHET’s power was pumped into the home, never seen but taken advantage of nonetheless. CHET, its power, its brilliance, was forgotten.
Then it happened. CHET died. The tribespeople were left in the dark, the cold, again.
Tribal leaders convened, spoke loudly of half-baked ideas, yelled, blamed, accused. Night after night, tempers soared until little food left little energy. Eventually, the rains came again. So divided, so opinionated, so accusatory, and so accused, the tribe’s people shivered alone. Then, the tribe’s people died alone.
Some say there are a few that lasted, remembering the old ways. Some say you can still hear their lonely chants in the valley among the ruins… CHET CHET CHET … wishing, hoping for its power. Some say we’re descendants of this tribe. Some say that if you wish hard enough, CHET provides.
Some say…
Some say…
Some say… CHET still exists.