Chapter 2 Indy
Indy
Ispend another thirty minutes making my way into the festival. The campsite looks like a crooked graveyard, rows of cars look like headstones, nylon flapping in the breeze, and the air is full of mischief and woodsmoke.
Music hums as people get ready for the night, waiting for the midnight air to bring them to life. I watch in amazement as people cover themselves in glitter, dance, and cook—everyone of them with the biggest smile on their face.
This feels like home.
But it also feels…off, like the joy is just a cover-up for something deeper, more fucked up. It just feels weird.
I pull into my campsite and park before opening my trunk again. It’s ten in the morning, and I have until the concert grounds open at three to get set up and ready. I can do that.
I work quickly. Pulling out my black tent and matching canopy, a chair, and my worn suitcase. Luckily, I’m alone this time, so I don’t have too much to put together. Throwing my hair up, I take a puff of my vape before getting started.
At some point during fighting with the canopy legs and their stakes, my neighbors make their way over.
“Hey there!” A blonde girl pops into my eyesight, skin covered in glitter, her hair flowing in bubble braids that are mixed with iridescent extensions. She’s wearing the cutest outfit, it’s a bloody clown, but all the blood is glitter, and I’m obsessed.
“Hi! Oh my gods, I absolutely love your outfit!” I finish pounding in the last tent stake and stand up.
“I’m Alexa, but everyone calls me Tini.” She reaches her hand out toward me, holding a small glow-in-the-dark pumpkin. “Welcome to Hollow Lands.”
I smile and accept the small token. “Wait, I have something for you.” I run over to my suitcase and grab my baggie of mushrooms, pulling out one that matches her outfit. “I make these out of resin. I hope you like it.”
I drop the mushie in her open palm. She squeals, noticing its little face. “Ahhhhh, I love him! Thank you so much!”
“Of course! I’m Indigo, but my friends call me Indy.”
“Well, Indy, I actually came over because I noticed you were here alone,” she says, glancing over to my small one-person tent. “We wanted to invite you over to our camp to pre-game and get ready.”
“I would love that, actually, thank you.”
I swear I can feel my heart growing ten times bigger. This. This is why I love music festivals.
“Perfect! Just head on over whenever you’re done over here, and we can get the party started!” She all but squeals, jumping up and down and clapping her hands.
“Sounds like a plan,” I confirm, giggling along with her.
I move quickly, setting up the rest of my site, before grabbing my outfit for the day. I’m starting strong with a red and white mushroom fit.
I pull on some white tights, which are glow-in-the-dark and covered in tiny crystals. Then come my white booty shorts, followed by a matching wrap-around skirt. The top is a simple red corset with a red and white pashmina wrapped around my shoulders.
The star of the show is the hat I made, which looks like a mushroom cap. It’s covered in red fabric on top with small, cream-colored spots. I pleated the bottom to mimic the gills underneath, plus I added sparkles. I can be crafty when I have a reason.
Kandi lines my wrist, a collection of all the years I’ve been raving and going to festivals. So many memories, laughs, and drug-fueled chaotic nights. I run my fingers over them, the familiar ting of the beads hitting each other grounding me.
I head over to my RAV4 and open the door, grabbing my weed vape, joints, and makeup. Shoving them in my fanny pack, I make my way over to Tini and friends' campsite.
“Hey girl!” Tini says as soon as she spots me. She rushes over and throws her arms around me. I accept the hug awkwardly, still not used to the friendliness of rave culture, even after all these years.
She all but drags me to the shared canopy. There are four small tents, all connected at the center by a giant canopy with chairs and a table for food, a rolling tray, and some glass for smoking weed.
A couple of girls are lined up, sitting cross-legged with mirrors propped up on the ground in front of them.
Makeup and glitter are sprawled across the floor.
To my left, three guys look like hardcore wookies, like they’ve been doing this since they were born.
Their pashminas are wrapped around their shoulders and heads, taking shots and sharing a blunt, laughing like there’s no care in the world.
I can hear a set from last year playing on someone’s speaker, clashing perfectly with the wubs from another sound system across the way. I glance down to the spot in front of me and scoot in, making myself as small as possible.
Tini sits to my right and lights up a joint, offering it to me after a couple of hits. I accept graciously, taking the sweet stickiness into my lungs with haste. I breathe out and already feel so much better. Weed is like my alcohol, even though I’ll still drink on occasion.
“Are you excited for the opening set tonight? I heard ILLENIUM might be making a special appearance,” the girl to my left asks as I pass her the doobie.
“Oh shit! No way! I haven’t seen him live yet,” I say, feeling even more excited. “I think I’m actually looking forward to ATLiens the most, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say the Subtronics back-to-back Level Up and Boogie T sunset set wasn’t up there too.”
“That one’s going to be killer,” one of the guys behind us exclaims, practically bouncing out of his seat. “I’m literally so hype for that one! It’s gonna go so fucking hard.”
“Ahhh, yes! I can’t wait!” We chat about the plans for tonight, pass weed between each other, share shots, and just have good vibes for the next couple of hours. By the time two o’clock rolls around, we’re all stoned as fuck, drunk as fuck, and cute as fuck.
All of us girls are covered in sparkles and glitter. The boys stay comfy, except one who’s dressed up in a leather harness and chaps, covered in diamond studs.
I ended up doing easy makeup, just some red lipstick, which I also used as blush with white spots across my cheeks. The girls insisted on sticking some diamonds under my eyes to match my sparkle, they said, and I actually love it.
Other than the crimson-coated cheeks, I added some big black and red lashes. Midnight hair frames my face, so dark it almost looks like it’s fake. I look like the perfect magical mushroom.
I do a once-over in the full-length mirror they have leaning against a metal leg of the canopy and smile to myself. The girls quickly sneak in behind me and we do some cute poses for pictures, sending kissy faces to the camera.
After forcing the boys to help us with a mini-photoshoot in front of the trees, we pack up our fanny packs, fill up our Camelbacks, and start making the hike to the festival grounds.
The walk is about a mile uphill. We stop at the market on the way in, ogling at all the pretty pashminas and hair accessories, the artist merch, and jewelry.
People are dancing by a small stage, a couple of them twirling with silks or swinging hula hoops around their hips. It’s mesmerizing, the way their bodies move to the rhythm. I could stay here all day, but I continue on ready to see what Hallow Lands is hiding.
We start filing in behind everyone else, crossing the street. Girls dance around us, covered in blood and glitter, wearing barely anything. I practically have to wipe the drool from the corner of my mouth.
There are people wearing onesies and harnesses; some are dressed like their favorite horror movie characters.
A group of men covered in tattoos stalks behind me, their faces shrouded by realistic-looking deer masks.
Totem poles that are covered in funny ass memes and jokes tower above us, their LED-lined bases a beacon for lost friends.
My palms start to sweat as nerves take over my body. It’s not the first time I’ve been to a festival, but it’s the first time I’ve been to one of this caliber. Everything feels bigger, more extreme, like a festival built for the elite rail riders.
To secure the tickets alone took me a straight hour of screaming and crying at the loading screen of my computer. Not to mention the price and the secrecy. The number of messages I had to send to even find the link had me wanting to rip my hair out.
This isn’t just any festival. This is Hallow Lands, a once-in-a-lifetime experience that will either be the experience of your life… or the last thing you remember.
I’m hoping it’s not the latter.