By: David C. Rogers
The tribe was chanting all around me. High and low tones brought together into a rhythmic harmony. The fire at the center of the masses of bodies burned hotly; so bright. I sat a few yards away from the fire, alone. The tribe’s chanting grew around me and wriggled its way into my head like an earwig. The tribe leader, an elder, slowly approached me and offered me a cup of a dark liquid. His words fell right into rhythm with the chanting, “Drink deep.” I took a long pull until the clay cup was dry and I could feel the liquid finding its way towards my empty stomach.
The chanting soon became muffled, my eyes open, but everything became black, except the fire that burned at the center; so bright.