Bebegigs
Chapter 33

Four nights later, Magenta rolls around on the bed, the sheets are messy, the blankets are lying on the floor.

he saw a wide and pebbled expanse of Curug Tourism, golden under the bright sunlight. A torrent of water glided majestically into the pool below, tipped with white foam, then deflated to the edge, slipping between the glittering expanse of gravel and flowing downstream.

The neighbor appeared, running barefoot at full speed. He wears a brown sheepskin jacket. His steps did not sound when crossing the river.

Magenta tried hard to see his face while the Gods ran faster and faster towards him. But, even though the river shore glittered with sunlight, the face of God was shrouded in gloom.

Magenta watched his twin brother run away while bowing, a burst of waterfalls rumbling behind him. Let me see your face! thought.

The gods seem clear. His face was terrified, his eyes were bulging, his mouth agape as if screaming with all its might without a sound.

The sky is getting darker, blacker.

Darkness followed the God, moving in front of him, moving faster than his running.

At first the darkness looked like a funnel-shaped cloud was blocking the sun.

The god was still sunlit, but the black clouds were getting bigger, almost swallowing it.

Then Magenta saw that darkness was not just a cloud. Except for a creature that moves.

His gaze grew clearer and he saw black wings, heard shrill squeals, saw a head with a black cloth hood bowing low while flying.

The black shadows chasing after the God were the shadow of a bat.

Giant bats, flapping wings, grabbing, swooping, blocking the sun, making the Curug Tour dark, squeaking and screeching until the roar of the waterfall is faintly heard.

As it ran increasingly faster, sweat flowed down its forehead, the God closed its eyes. His mouth remained open.

Run, De–-run! urged Magenta.

But a cloud of bats snatched over the Gods. He fell to the sand, first his knees, then his face. And the giant bat floated down on it like the descent of night.

And everything went black.

Magenta sat upright in his bed, relieved to see his room, relieved to see the grey sunlight that entered his room through the window.

he stood up, half-conscious, half-dreaming.

The big bat's shrill squeak was still heard by him as he staggered towards the window. Cloud bat. Darkness descends into the pool of waterfalls, upon the Gods.

Magenta leaned against the window sill, wanting to get out of the dream, wanting to be free from the grip of this horror, but not wanting to forget it. He shook his head hard.

he realized that he was awake from the dream with one word on his lips.

Say it. Say the word, insist on yourself.

So he said, "Bebebeggig."

The dream was trying to tell her, trying to show her.

Magenta knows.

Now Magenta knows how Dewangga died.

Bats on the mysterious island across there that river. The giant bat that inhabited the abandoned farmland was.

Bats that perch upstream of the river at the top of the waterfall.

Bebegig!

The bat was a dark-robed scarecrow.

The dream revealed the truth to her.

Now that he had completely woken up, he quickly put on crumpled tennis shorts, grabbed by a used T-shirt yesterday and put on it, then he headed to the back door without a toothbrush and combed his hair.

"Hei—" called his father from the dining table as he rushed through the kitchen.

But Magenta's out, knocking down the front door. "I'm in a hurry!" sahutnya and began to run small to the house of Orange.

he did not hear the rain. The dream gripped him too much, first the roar of the waterfall, then the creepy tweet of the giant bat.

Bebegigs.

Kade Bebegig, Anaking!

Suddenly he remembered the whisper of the mysterious old woman reading in the middle of the rice field.

That's not a dream!

It was not a delusion caused by the fear of being entangled in a magical rope that kept him circling in the same place until he got frustrated and became insane.

The old woman also tried to tell him.

he must tell the orange. He had to tell the girl that he already knew what was really going on. Although the sun was shining and the sky was blue, four days since the death of the God passed in a gloomy and gloomy atmosphere.

All events had vanished in Magenta's mind. Only voices remain. The grim cries of their parents. The muttering of the police. Whispers horrified the children at Wisata Curug and in their village.

Magenta met with the orange only once during those four days. They tried to talk like everything was normal, but none managed to pretend. Then they tried to talk about the gods. But impossible too.

Magenta left Jingga and then paced alone on the beach, still curious about what happened that night, why God decided to go to climb the top of the waterfall, how God died.

The city's coroner called it a drowning accident.

But Magenta did not believe - until he got the dream. Until he woke up with an answer on his lips.

And now he must tell the orange.

Approaching the courtyard of the house of Orange, a small white house of planks with a spacious terrace equipped with scattered garden chairs and tables studded with acacia flower flakes, he can see the Orange through a glass window.

he jumped onto the terrace and rushed to the front door, calling out.

Orange raised his face from the table, surprised. His mother was washing the dishes for breakfast. His father went to open the door.

Magenta greeted him, still trying to ease his breath that was panting after running around from his house.

"Have you had breakfast?" ragnala asked, rolling up the sleeves of the shirt she was wearing covering her white T-shirt. "The pancake dough is still there."

"Don't bother, Mom. Thank you," said Magenta, staring at the orange. The girl looked very pale and fragile in the gray light that broke through the glass window. "I--just want to talk to Orange."

Orange stood up and gently smiled at her mother. "I want to get out onto the terrace" he said, smiling faintly at Magenta as he stepped outside.

Magenta followed him to the terrace, eager to tell him what he had found. The mountain air was still cold; the overcast sky looked low and gray.

The orange rests on the ledge of the terrace and looks at the trees. Magenta stepped beside her, wiping the cold sweat on her forehead with the edge of her t-shirt.

The shirt stinks, he just regained consciousness. And suddenly he remembered, so rushed to the house of Orange, he did not have time to comb his hair.

I must have looked disgusting, he thought. But he got rid of this thought, determined to share his new knowledge with the Orangs.

"How are you?" tanya Orange was somewhat timid, staring at the trees, which were dark under the foggy low sky.

"good. I mean, not so good. But okay good."

"Me too" he said.

"I want to tell you something" said Magenta, hoping that Orange would turn around and face him. "Something is important. I mean..."

Should he say it straight away?

The orange finally turned around, curious. "I'm so sleepy" he said. "Maybe it's the air."

"Denger, Orange, I want to tell you about this. I know how God died."

Orange Eyes squinting. His pale face seemed to be losing its hue. "Gen, we all know how God died, too" he said, his voice whispering . "He's a tugget."

"Gak—dengerin me first, Orange-please," Magenta pleaded, putting his arm on the shoulder of a crisp orange blue T-shirt and almost reaching his long knee. "Dengerin, huh?"

The orange did not answer, only looking into Magenta's eyes.