Magic, Madness And Sadness

Hilda's song

Hilda had always felt larger than life as she went about her day surrounded by the giants of the savanna. Something about the way the earth rumbled and cracked as they moved made her feel safe, like nothing could ever touch her so long as she remained by their side. She often looked up at them and wondered if there would ever come a day when she’d grow as tall as they were. Her mother was always quick to reassure her that it would, but as she zigzagged between their gigantic legs, barely even reaching their knees, she found that rather hard to believe.

Hilda was a very curious little calf. On any given day she would run crying to her mother on several occasions on account of something stuck in her trunk; be it a twig, a pebble and sometimes the odd insect. Keeping watch over her was a full-time job - one that more often than not, left her mother quite exhausted. Sometimes she would break off from the herd to chase a butterfly or inspect some unfamiliar flower, leaving her mother in distress over where she had gone. Having realized that she could not keep her daughter in one place for very long, Hilda’s mother had to think up a unique way of calling out to her, no matter how far she may stray. It was then that the song came to be. It was a special tune that only she could sing. It had a distinct melody to it, one that set it apart from any trumpet Hilda or the other elephants had ever heard. For the most part, it was rather pleasant and soothing. The song had a sonorous bass to it, one that would crest and trough as she repeatedly stretched out her trunk before recoiling it to draw her breath once more. She made a point to sing until Hilda made her way back to her side, no matter how long it may take.

Every morning she sang, every afternoon, every evening, and sometimes in the night just to put Hilda to sleep. Though only a handful of them dared say it to her face, the rest of the herd had eventually grown weary of her constant repetition of the song. The few who had mustered the courage to voice their grievances always wound up regretting it. She’d always agree to stop singing, granted they abide by one condition;
“If you’ll keep an eye on her at all times and make sure she never gets lost, I promise I’ll never sing again.”

The request always proved effective in warding off even the most vocal of her critics, though some would occasionally murmur their discontent as they stomped away. The only elephant that seemed to love the song consistently was Hilda herself. Sometimes she would intentionally hide from her mother just to hear it one more time, an act that served only to further annoy the herd.

One morning while at the watering hole, Hilda wandered off as per usual. She always found a great deal of amusement in chasing her own reflection along the water surface. No matter how many times her mother told her she’d never catch it, her words seemed to enter one floppy ear and exit through the other. After a while, she’d simply give up and just watch as her daughter gleefully splashed behind her own reflection with unwavering conviction. As always, she had chased it until she was well out of sight from the rest of the herd. Of course, she was not worried about any of that, she knew she’d be hearing her mother call out to her at any moment - so she played on. Several minutes elapsed and she grew bored with the game. Her mother usually interrupted it very early on but this time she had played to her heart’s content, and then some.

Part of her was worried, but she was quick to dismiss it, after all, nothing could ever harm the mighty giants of the savanna. Just as she was about to resume play, she finally heard the song, or rather, a rendition of it. It wasn’t quite as she knew it. The soft bass had become muddled and all over the place, like she was barely able to take a breath. It was more of a high pitched wail, like she was in tremendous pain. Hilda quickly followed the sound of her mother’s trumpet. The song seemed to wane with each passing minute, which only hastened Hilda’s sprint. Once she reached the river bank from which the herd had been drinking, she was greeted by a scene more horrifying than anything she had ever laid her young eyes upon. Most of the herd had scattered as they fled for their lives, while the rest were sprawled all over the ground with barely any life left in them.