ZANABIA Music Festival — Day Two
By sunset, the air in ZANABIA had changed its mind. Day One was joy. Day Two was voltage. As the lanterns warmed to amber and the crowd pressed closer to the main stage, a low metallic hum rolled through the grounds—half bass test, half warning. Then they appeared. The Scorpion Heads Band did not walk onstage. They arrived. Tall, poised, gleaming under the lights, their chitinous silhouettes caught fire in shades of copper and obsidian. Human bodies, scorpion heads—ancient eyes that looked like they had seen deserts before deserts knew they were dry. Their tails arched not in threat, but in rhythm, gently swaying like metronomes that had learned funk. The first note hit, and ZANABIA collectively leaned forward. This was not music you tapped your foot to. This was music that tapped you—right between the ribs. The drummer’s claws moved with impossible precision, clicking and crashing in polyrhythms that felt mathematical yet feral. The bassist played lines so deep that nearby food stalls reported their spice jars rearranging themselves. The lead guitarist bent notes until even the night sky seemed unsure of its pitch. And the vocalist—oh, the vocalist—sang in a voice that sounded like sandstorms learning poetry. Zanabians of every kind filled the grounds. Goat-heads nodded knowingly. Panda-heads swayed side to side, fully locked in. Bird-heads perched on railings for better acoustics. Humans stood stunned for the first thirty seconds, then surrendered completely. No one here was a spectator anymore. Everyone was part of the arrangement. Midway through the set, something peculiar happened—very ZANABIA, really. A group of children began dancing near the stage, inventing moves that made no anatomical sense. The band noticed. The tempo shifted subtly to match them. This was not crowd control. This was conversation. By the final track, the lights dropped to a single deep red glow, casting long shadows across the festival grounds. The Scorpion Heads Band raised their instruments in unison, tails lifted skyward, and struck a final chord that rang out like a promise kept. Silence followed. Then an eruption. Applause, cheers, clicking, wing-flutters, tail-thumps, laughter. Somewhere in the back, someone spilled a drink and didn’t care at all. Day Two closed with hearts pounding and ears ringing gently—the good kind of ringing, the kind that says you were present. Tomorrow, the festival continues. But tonight belongs to the Scorpion Heads. And ZANABIA will remember this one for a very long time. 🦂🎶
