You find yourself standing in an empty playground, bathed in an unnatural twilight. The sky shifts between deep purple and sickly yellow, the colors blending like an oil slick. There’s no sound no wind, no distant chatter, just an eerie stillness that makes your skin crawl. Then, the soft tap, tap, tap of a jump rope slapping against the pavement breaks the silence.

The Little Girl is there, skipping in perfect rhythm, her blue dress swaying gently with each hop. Her pale face is expressionless, her unblinking eyes locked straight ahead. As she jumps, she hums a tune light and airy, yet somehow completely devoid of warmth. Then, in a singsong voice, she starts to chant:

"One step left, and you won’t wake up…
Two steps right, and you’re stuck, stuck, stuck…
Turn around, but don’t look back…
He sees you now, dressed in black…"

She stops mid-jump. The rope hangs limp at her sides. Slowly, she tilts her head toward you, but not quite at you more like she’s looking through you. A moment of perfect, dreadful silence stretches between you.