Every year, Fuzzco drives to the mountains together and treks off into the forest. We trudge for hours until we reach a particular spot, a natural amphitheater, where a break in the canopy of branches high above allows us to see the sky.
There we wait until night has fallen and the moon has risen against a backdrop of stars.
There we wait until night has fallen and the moon has risen against a backdrop of stars.
When the full moon appears we begin the drumming, a shambling rhythm knocked out with wooden clubs on a hollow log. Eventually one of us slowly begins to dance, stomping her feet and swinging her arms. One by one the rest of us join as the rhythm quickens, until soon we are all leaping and hooting at the sky, thrashing about with wild abandon.
Suddenly, and without a visible signal, we all stop.
Suddenly, and without a visible signal, we all stop.
In the quiet, the only sound we can hear is the thump of our hearts and the rush of blood through our veins. After long moments of utter stillness, we creep slowly together to huddle in the center of the clearing, where the darker ritual begins.
We can't tell you what happens next. But we wear these cute t-shirts while it happens.
We can't tell you what happens next. But we wear these cute t-shirts while it happens.
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