Every place has its own strange traditions, customs that seem normal when you're there

but completely outrageous or downright bizarre to anyone outside the circle.

But when bonding with others from small provinces, my village always tops the conversation.

My dream card for this is the alarm that sounds every 20 years.

We were never outright told not to tell anyone, but it was heavily implied.

A sort of silent agreement though this stays within the confines of our little village

of Pendleton.

But it's too good a story not to tell.

I was young when I first witnessed one, about three years old.

All I remember is the bustle of the village as we all ended and underground locking.

Despite how thick the walls and doors were, we could all still hear it faintly.

The blaring of the claxons echoed around the village.

Growing up I'd see them.

Tall poles with conical shapes on the end facing various directions.

There were no visible wires which made you assume they were hidden inside, but there

was also no opening for maintenance.

Like this they function perfectly every time they went off.

There was no department for them.

No one knows what grid they were wired to.

They're just there and they exist.

It was just the fact that everyone accepted, though what wasn't accepted, was a common

consensus for why.

...