Celebration

Midnight colours scarcely lit the tribal feast. The moon smiled in consent while echoes of their new language were swimming throughout the forest, turning into fragments of words softly carried by the wind. Red fires ignited realms of joy, odes to gods long forgotten and dances around burning flesh. Chants for the long departed ruled the night. The dead danced with the living while fat animals were being prepared to be eaten. Wine was floating down their throats, and the smoke made them sing even louder.

Suddenly an electric bolt announced the time to be silent. Nearby, a telephone rang and their faces showed awe and enthusiasm for the moments beginning shortly. A wire was connected to an old speaker and suddenly the voice spoke. Its tone was warm and gentle, and its message was clear. They listened quietly, and in the end they set the telephone on fire. The last object from times before. The last link to days where concentration was impossible, and living was acting. The fire grew up to the sky, or so it seemed, I don't know. When it was over, they resumed their dancing, their love, their cries and their chants. They performed the human ritual while getting drunk, for it was divine. It was a path to a higher level, a level where all was one. They forgot the voice, lit more fires so they could dance around them, and ate and drank more, as if there was no tomorrow. Suddenly reality exploded and happiness was spread all across the universe.