Of all the comeuppances I dread, there is none I get spooked by like the vestigial remains of a cult-like association I created as a Lillian (so we call the students at Mount Lilly). It's about four decades now but from the whispers I hear here and there across the hills and dales of Cleote, and by extension Treeland, a new political movement might metamorphose from the ashes of my creation- The Crow Resistance Movement.
It was in the days of Grants the fourth Mayor of Cleote. Sir Beliard was the provost at our citadel. The third Mayor and his underlings had been booted out of office for grafts: the regime was clearly a blend of a few saints with much morally depraved individuals, and the Mayor, Edwin couldn't tame his henchmen.
Lord Grants had ridden on this clamorous yearning for change into power. He was the choicest of all the contenders. Been a war veteran he had been much more around than Edwin. He knew our history. He had fought for the unity of the provinces of Treeland. Above all, he had been inundated with the people's grumblings for transformation, and he had only one assignment: The restoration of our provincial pride. There was this saying in those days- "Go to Brass, weep for Cleote; she was once the beauty." But now we were desperate for our lost dignity, hence our choiceness of Lord Grants, and he had the people's support.

However, few months into his administration, Grants soon began to fall short of the Cleotens favour. His plowmen were worse at enriching themselves with the proceeds from the city's establishments. Every walk of our provincial life was headed by their cronies. Their nepotism stunk to the highest heavens. Speaking of moral depravity, these ones were special breed; they perfected the art of distracting the populace from their inefficiencies; and dissident voices were jailed. They're smart and canny at covering their tracks as they syphoned off our sovereign wealth. Our fortune was dwindling.
But the bane of these marauders was Mount Lilly. The wave of enlightenment blowing across the land was unprecedented. As students at that time whenever we went home for a break, no matter how short, we practically became teachers to our parents and uncles who were unlearned but were eager to learn.
The only way for these plunderers to loot us dry would be to silence the conscience of Cleote, that's the citadel. And before our very eyes the decadence was soon spreading into Mount Lilly- the Mayor's men had their claws in the citadel's provost. I was in my second year at the institution and was privileged to be the Assistant Prefect of my set. I had also wormed my way into the hearts of some of the provost's staffs; and was soon hinted that there might be a plot to create a chaos in order to legitimately shut down the campus, and it would be a long time closure.

I rallied some like minds among fellow students. I needed only seven to join me to make eight- I had a plan. And fortunately I got the backings of all the prefects and their assistants, except my own prefect who would rather have us appeal the school authority to appeal to the government. So we were nine and we founded the Crow Resistance Movement. Our goal was to awaken the Mayor to his responsibilities and deliver on his promises. We soon concluded on a strategy to achieve our goal: Shut down the system (including the citadel and all establishments) and hold the keys before the Mayor shut down the campus and change the lock. As some would later put it: Lock down the town before the Sheriff locks down the campus. We had seven days to execute our plan, and the mobilization was so swift and effective that within four days, Cleote was on her toes. The government became jittery, the crusade spread like wildfires; threats were coming from all sides, some of our relatives went into hidings and some of the eight developed a cold feet.
The reinforcements we got from across Treeland was, however, phenomenal. I was at the center of the revolt.
A mail arrived for me from Treeland capital very early on the fifth day; it was from His Grace, the Lord Bishop of Minth- a very discreet man and of few words. His letter read:
"Do not tarry till cockcrow; gather ye rosebuds while ye may

PS: Have you ever been to the Bishop's Gallery in Brass? At the entrance to the second corridor is a large statute of a bulldog: a perfect piece of creativity; so real and scary a first timer would tremble at its sight, but it cannot bark let alone bite. Face it."

I mulled over the message awhile. My only fear about this movement had been Lord Grant himself- he's cunning and also known for his brutality. But Bishop Kalu's PostScript was like a piece to solve a puzzle: "...Scary... but it cannot bark let alone bite," a fiction. Yea!
That same day, in the evening, having mobilized all our contacts across Cleote, the city was shut down.

The protest went on for days. The people called for the Mayor's resignation, but he wouldn't yield. The resistance movement was soon hijacked by some who believed spiritual forces should be engaged. At this I made my withdrawal from the movement- I never believed in spirituality until years later.
Soon we began to hear strange reports about the administration, the most shocking was about Lord Grants himself: they said he began to wither; his health was rapidly failing, and his physicians could not do anything about it. On the seventeenth day of the protest, around 6pm, the news broke:
Lord Grant was dead.
A week later a new administration emerged: it was a fresh breath, and the beginning of our redemption! Thus, the Crow Resistance Movement was laid to rest.

That was thirty-seven years ago.

This morning, another mail arrived from the Bishop. Its about a decade since we communicated. He's a diligent Shepherd of Treeland whose sighing I would never ignore. He wrote this in Latin and it read:

"Venit alius revolution."

Which is translated:
"Another revolution is coming!"

But Cleote seems to be at peace...

*The Wonder's Heart*