One step at a time. Careful. One hoof left the ground, very gentle, then quickly advanced to support the Kimeti again. Another hoof rose in a similar fashion then hammered the earth.
She was singing a playful melody, increasing the intensity of her voice at regular points. High-pitched notes ruling the peak, then it decreased again to a much lower note. She didn’t quite catch herself what she was singing; it was joyful, but it didn’t seem to have any meaning.
Snow coming from behind her, falling in zigzags, never quite touching her. The small dots flew around, and vanished instantly on the ground, as if absorbed. Their strange dance amused the doe.
In front of her, a very large area was black and red, grey and yellow. The chaotic colours just appeared and vanished, hiding and showed, danced and stood. It was made of an unknown matter. She simply though it was the darkness of the world that was creeping away from her, apparently rising slightly in revulsion before disappearing completely without ever coming in contact with her. Nothing else as far as she could see. She concluded it was some kind of void, and the ground only appeared below her; however, she was not scared, because there was still a trail behind her, and she could walk forward as long as she could.
It felt as if she was building the world just by walking around. And the white drops kept falling slowly on the darkness.
However, something was off.
She couldn’t help but feel immensely wrong in that setting. Of course, she was happy - she was supposed to be happy - but why was she singing this? She needed at least some meaning in the lyrics. She listened to herself; she looked at herself from the outside.
The uneasiness increased until she found out what was wrong.
It was so evident. She was singing backwards.
As she realized this, her movement, and the snow’s, slowed down and came to a stop. Then she began stepping back. She was stepping back in panic, trying to get away, but unable to get her eyes off the dark matter that followed her, trying to touch her, constantly spreading. All she could do to avoid obstacles was to feel the ground and plant her body steadily as not to fall. The delicate white dots began flying back into the sky. They were not eaten by the matter, they were actually being born from it, and an ominous noise, not quite like a roar, not quite like a buzz, filled the air. Was it fire, eating the swamp, reducing it to a black crust, with white ash floating above her? Was it a huge swarm of insects, some with bright marking, some as dark as night, endlessly trying to n** her soft flesh, the toughest critters choosing to spread their thin wings to bite the Kimeti’s face instead? Was it the shadow of a colossal monster that she was too scared to see directly? Was it some other unspeakable threat, one that would do her great harm if she were to let it win? Were the adorable dots hot or cold, were they ghosts or living creatures, were they here to fill the sky in case she tried to hide herself up there? It was not important. The only thing that mattered was the inexorable advance of the threat, the horrible sense of doom she was now trying to shake off her mind to survive.
And all of this made sense; all the pieces fell into places, only when she listened to her own song, sung the right way. The melody was not childish, it was a sad requiem, and it was a sinister call for help going crescendo.
I tried to go away
I did not succeed
I still am trying
I don’t know yet that I’m doomed to fail
Help me
Get me out of there
I’m doing my best
To not get caught
Please tell me the song will slow it down
It has to
For Matope’s sake
I can’t continue
Not for long you know
I know you’re here please drag me out of here
Help me
And she was still interpreting that melody, hoping she was actually wrong, that the first situation was the real one, and that this one was but a trick of her sick mind, but her wish was never fulfilled. She felt like crying, but why bother? It would only slow her down, and it almost felt like the evil darkness was speeding up. She was singing backwards, and she couldn’t afford singing her backward song backwards back.
