It started as a small crack. Forming from the white mark in front of my eyes the seam ran instantly from my position upwards like a bolt of lightning framed in ice.
Tink. The sound of cracking as the seam grew.
Tink. Flashes of light. Small shards of ice dropped from the sky and twinkled in front of me. The wall was crumbling. A panicked feeling, a rush of blood as I snapped out of my violent fit.
Turning as quickly as I could I knew I had to hide - my shell wouldn't be able to handle the impact of a giant piece of ice that was
'Where?' I asked myself in a panic as I stared at the nearest object. 'Ice'. Yes. Ice. The shattered piece of ice that was left over from the trap. The same piece of ice that smashed me down was my hope of salvation.
...
Dark. Darker. Greys. Shadows.
Without turning around, I knew that it was coming. The wall was coming down behind me. Powered by panic, I urged my body forward at heightened speeds.
I felt the wind cold - generated from the fall of a large chunk of ice behind me the air and mist around me seemed to disperse with its fall.
[+1... Spee]
While being barely able to hear the metallic voice due to the howling wind around me, I pushed my body lower towards the ground. I needed just a little more time. Milliseconds. I needed a few more milliseconds. The haven, the ice chunk, was just in almost within reach. But like it wasn't. Like Zeno's paradox involving Achilles and the snail, the finish line was so close and yet so far.
I ducked...
What?
Haven't you heard of Achilles and the snail before? I would have thought you have... Do I even know where it's from? I... Hmm... you're right. But I do know the story... somehow. I don't know where I have heard of it before...
Would you like to hear it?
Okay.
There once was a being named Achilles. Known for his speed and agility, the man proud warrior. He trained every day as hard as he could even though he was born faster and stronger than the others in his tribe.
Training secretly, he knew he had to live up to his name - to his family. Every day, he would train in the same place. Albeit running laps, dodging as quickly as he could as he ran through the forest, he worked on his agility and his senses.
"Fast as lightning" and "swift as the wind". His tribe showered him in praises and... he lost his way. He became idolized and stopped training as hard.
The tribe would have races to show off the prowess of its members each year.
Like you would expect, Achilles won every one of them.
And he watched. He - the snail, the tribe's guardian creature. Old and ripe with wisdom, he watched Achilles from when he was a child. He watched the small child's struggles and determination turn to blind pride before his eyes.
So he knew he had to teach the boy a lesson.
But how could a weak old snail beat a spritely young man? There was no way that he could, right?
Wrong.
What he lacked in strength and speed, he made up with knowledge and intelligence.
"Boy." the snail called out as he approached Achilles after a race.
"Sir." Achilles replied.
"I have watched you and you think you're quick right?"
Laughing, Achilles replied. "Yes."
The snail looked from Achilles to the path into the forest. "You're not quick at all." the snail replied.
"Oh." Achilles said in a surprised tone. "How?" he asked.
Without explaining why the snail instead said this.
"Why don't we have a race?" the old snail asked.
Looking more closely at the snail Achilles was surprised once again. The guardian of his tribe was only a token of the past. He knew the old snail was strong and smart in his younger years, but that was hundreds of years ago. As time passed by, the old snail could barely move. 'How could the snail beat me in a race?' Achilles thought.
"Sir, you must be joking." Achilles replied seconds later.
"You think this old snail can't beat you?" the snail replied. "Then give me a head start... say ten metres." the snail suggested.
"How about I give you fifty metres?" Achilles replied pompously.
"Then how about 1 metre." The snail replied.
Hearing that the snail had shortened the distance, Achilles felt a fit of rage well up within him. But unbeknownst to him, he had already fallen into the old snail's trap because before he would complain, the snail spoke up once more.
"How about I tell you how I have already won our race." The snail replied.
Confused, Achilles couldn't comprehend what had happened. Had the snail travelled to the finish line and back before he could even react? Was the snail that fast?
"How?" Achilles asked. "How are you that fast?"
"I'm not fast." the snail replied. "In fact, I'm very slow. Slower than you in speed. But I'm smarter than you. And that is how I won."
Angry now, Achilles shouted at the ancient snail without restraint. "Then how could you have won a race we haven't even started?"
The snail replied. "If I had a metre headstart, you think you can easily pass me right?"
"Yes." Achilles replied confidently.
"But when you have travelled one metre, how much do you think I would have travelled during that time?"
"A couple of centimetres?" Achilles asked.
"Let's just assume that I travel ten centimetres, so I'm ten centimetres ahead." the snail continued. "You will need time to travel that ten centimetres to catch up, but I'll have travelled 100 millimetres during that time. In which situation will you ever pass me and win the race?" the snail asked.
Stunned, Achilles was lost for words. "I..." he started but he wasn't able to think of a solution. It appeared that the snail had won. The snail had won with wit instead of speed or strength.
...
But unlike Achilles, I was in a race as well. The ice was falling and I was about to get hit, but I wasn't in a paradox. I had made it.
Crash.
I hid in my shell as the sound of broken glass rebounded all around me.
I had made it.
...