Dead man

I flounder in the room. If I die it would be sorry. I have not met him. I'm not satisfied to beat. I just slapped him. Slap him. Slap with full force. He roared. I reach her hair. Shut up! I say, still you're a whore. I'll kill you. He was silent, sobbing in the corner. My chest rippled, like the sea.

I wanted to strangle him. If I strangled him over. But I do not have fun anymore. Of course he'll die. No. This should not happen. I have to have fun every day. So my soul calm. Like a hungry person can eat. The first day I knew, I was blushing. My eyes are stupid, in front of her beauty - and his gentleness. I immediately grabbed his hand. I mentioned my name. He laughed to see me.

So this beautiful woman's name Izza. And of course he's hoping the beautiful romance to remember. The first three days did he get: softness, beauty, love. After that I started to get bored, and start with a habit that makes me like a trance. On one morning, we woke up in our apartment. The sun caught in the window. I opened the curtains, we whipped up a hot morning. Coffee! I yelled. I pulled the rough blanket. in the corner. He was dazed, yet conscious. He opened his eyes, develop his hands. Like the first day we had sex. When I greet with affection the same.

But now I've become the devil. Full of desire to torture. Like the misguided religious rituals. You heard me! Coffee! Sooner you make coffee, before I order you bored. Before hand flew to your face. He stared began to understand. Though not believe what happened. Good for him began to understand. I do not need a lot of talk again. Because my hands have to work. So as my hand began to slap her opening. He yelped and started cry. But such a way as I screamed, yelled from the bottom of my soul . I lifted her body. I took his hair. Our mouths met.

Look you, prostitutes, starting today you have to serve at any time. From this day do not you set the schedule but I am. I am in charge and now I want it. And I managed to scare. She sobbed. I throw her white body and the solid to the bed. I opened his shirt force. with anger, resentment, too.

He moaned like a little kid seeing a wild dog. I smiled smugly. The bitter sadness passed away. Die. Die . In the night the sadness in coming. Rain. Hitting the bedroom window. Like conscience knocking heart.

This woman is like junk. Sitting on the bed. His face was bruised. His eyes asked, why do this. And I send my fist again. So you want this, I say, thrust his fists again. Hit me to death, he said. Yes, I'll hit you to death. As I hit the child-wife to death. You know what I did to them? Every day I put myself in hell. My son is beautiful, who said people are very interesting, I hit my wife with my crazy, forgetting his fear, jump with her nails.

So this is the fate of my family, after all these years, so this is the peak of the torture that: my wife dared to resist the strike. His hair is disheveled. His eyes were fierce. He bit his neck, let go of my hand from our children. But I was too strong for them.

With wild wife I slammed to the floor. Then my son. I saw blood flowing from my head. Her pretty face and a tiny grin. I think the war in parts of the world. Fun happens. My wife turned the jump, screaming like a madman. So I swung my my fist. I picked up a wooden stick in our room, I swung my best just behind the head. My wife spun, fell without speaking. Two men were like a piece of meat in the room.

As animals that have been skinned. I felt something in himself apart. God knows what. The years change. The memory makes me float, somber for no reason. There was flash of self. Lust hurt people. Painful, the pain. So I satisfied. Ah, who knows how many women have been killed. Until I find him, where I make love to beautiful doll. Also remove ancient passions. He is very afraid of me. Grace has going down.

When I got home he was trembling. I have made safety. I locked my house. I turned up this doll can not escape. Until there came a day that made me floundering, full enmity to strangle him to death. All this stems from my habit, too. I was so carried away with his hammock. No wonder he was so soft that afternoon. Apparently there was a catch. He wanted to run away! So. When I closed because his suck, his hand suddenly grabbed the bottle of vodka that I drink as half.

Then he hit the head with the bottle. Do not run! I shouted before collapsing. Or I did not scream? But I felt I was screaming. But he still ran, no longer ignore me. Through the curtain. Opening the front door with a key. Then I saw the last shadows around the corner, jumped to taxi. Don’t ran away with fucking. You are my life. I was breathing. How would I without you. My voice was trembling.

Like stormy nature. Then I do not remember anything else. When I woke up around dark. It was the middle of the night. The lamp house is not burning. I felt my body hurt the snake slither . Like I moved toward the light switch. Failed to reach my hand. My head is spinning. I was silent and stood in two feet. I grab the button again. Waves dazzling light. His glitters like my soul with anger, resentment, too. I've spent my age of woe for two that's all. And now I'll risk everything to peak.

I have to look. I know where he is. I moved toward the closet where I keep my gun. I pulled out a pistol and a dagger. I have to work for this business. Can not fail. For the sake of my soul is filthy. Blood and rancid. The driver took me down, through the streets of Jakarta. Spinning in the shadows of the night.

Stopped at an entertainment area. The guards there already know me. I paid the taxi and went quietly. Slipped into a room. Well, see the doll was there. Holding both knees. Sleeping on the bed where we first met. I woke him up.

Hello you, I say, play the music on it. Music playing violent. Like a savage soul. He stared at me. Not believe his own fate. Like I could not believe my fate in the other day. We meet again here. You see everything start again from scratch. And began to slap my hand. I grab her and my knee into his right of somebody. He yelped and I immediately covered her mouth.

Like the evil humans across the earth together, whispering of to me. choise with your dagger crime. Trim face. No. Get to shoot both eyes. You do not bring the quencher. I took everything and I'll do it all. But wait. What is moving in my heart at a critical moment was. Aha, a double consciousness. The desire to see blood mixed with satisfaction of torture from day to day. I choose which one. God once and for all, show me the way-God. .Which way to choose. I shot this woman then it was done. But what about the next life. Where I should look for a victim like this again. Everything he had. My soul orgasm torture him. Do not be stingy with me a sinner. Show me the way. I was thunderstruck when people knock on my door.

Who was it. Do not bother me that more fun. All people should have fun. What would happen if all people had lost the fun. The world lost his passion and all stops in a dead hand. Loss of motion itself. God was just having fun with us-we are. Playing to people like myself. Bounced between two rocks. His descended into the abyss. That in my soul.

God dance and be glad. Along with people like yourself this.

God singing in our souls. Killer who makes the world move in art.

Killer in the form and his own. Yes, everywhere, the Lord appeared to him. Testing of people like you by people like us. And I'm faithful to death with this God examination. So I had to kill this woman now. Because God wants back. Anyway look out at the door . His Knock not people who have needs. He must think of something else in this room. So you have to race with his own destiny. Play your destiny. And fate opponent.

Stab quickly before it's too late. Shoot his eyes would be nice. The beat grew louder. Then the door was shaking, trembling. Somebody tried help her. Well brothers and sisters. Let's play this scene. Then buried the dagger again and again. How soft this woman's stomach. How red blood. I pulled up the dagger through his chest.

She moaned to speak. What would you say dear. See our destiny like this. What happened to us. What. I do not hurt hear that. Must be knife entered the body. Especially when the cut up, ripped through the chest. So shut up do not talk.

Let's all hand work. That everything goes well. Sleep in peace, comfortable in my lap. Because we Frozen

Singapura destiny with heart-Jakarta, August 2002

Please come On Friday at the Old Temple Defenderse

WHEN it, Hitler was dead. Suicide. A few minutes after the beautiful Eva Braun, whom he married in a stuffy room air. Goerge Orwell's story was very, exhausted post-war, in a country full of paradox, does not make her weak spirits to meet, Siti Layla. Women's blue-blooded Malays, the descendants of kings. Goerge like Siti, Siti like Einstein. Especially when atomic bombs overthrow totalitarianism arrogance. Moreover, when Siti starting shot for a number of fragments responses Goerge latest novel, Nineteen Eighty-four (1984), or the previous novel, entitled Animal Farm.

Siti last letter reads, "When the right to measure our fears, George. In my country, fear roaming birds like swallows on the shore hotel cam, on an evening. The real fear has become the native inhabitants. The fear of the older age of our own lives. Yet Europe, your country, it seems, still smiling in the lines novel. I was amazed. Because in my country, land is going to crack, has long left the kings, inhabited by ghosts. But Goerge, would splinter European fascism, will also sail to see us? For now, the look in my eyes, just-style fascism Malays. I'm afraid, George ... "

In a previous letter, Siti writes, "I was surprised when you tell your novel Animal Farm. Read it, I like being in a cage with a door that did not. I was one of the animals that challenge and drive out their master. A fierce rebellion and charming, George. But I was disappointed, why then the animals were even fighting themselves. Not at ease with the world without human intervention. Do you think without the presence of humans, it was not perfect animal? Or they can not be separated, as a descendant of fabric, right? Ah, George, you like jokes. And your hard ideology . But, frankly, I do not like Darwin ... "

The letters that makes large Goerge desire to meet Siti. Siti Though not expect really to see Goerge. There was no promise. For Siti hate promise. Siti only promise to give people the opportunity to find gaps lie. But for Siti Goerge strange concern is the main reason for him to watch more closely, Siti come to the country. An island on the edge of Sumatra. "The island is remote and (especially) foreign," so Siti never mentioned. Strange, because the fear of fascism actually landed on a descendant of the kings of Siti. Although suspected Goerge, Siti is the figure of a woman rebel, like Kartini, or Cut Nyak Dien. Although sometimes hesitate to Goerge historical knowledge about the system of the royal monarchy. Of women rarely arise (and tends to sink) in a large wave of centralized power in men. But, "Ah, this is not the focus of struggle," Goerge thought.

But in a conversation on the phone, often there are thousands of Goerge catching flash of disappointment languishing in every Siti words.

"Speed dating with you, George, help me kill time. I'm afraid. Time here a similar vicious wolves. He can be seen through the eyes of the people. Red light, George ... "

"Ah, Siti. Everywhere the time it is. If only you could look at my eyes now, I'm sure you'll be afraid. "

"I believe, your eyes must be filled with smoke the rest of the war right?"

"Yes, crowded, cramped, filled with yells of revolution. War always leaves a wound, is not it? "

"Yes. Wounds of the past ... "

Siti's voice faltered. Time stopped for a moment.

"Siti ... Siti ... hello ... "

"Ah, sorry Goerge. There is a calling. How? "

"How?"

"E ... I mean what about Winston, a character that your novel?"

"Did not you already read it. What do you think? "

'I like it. But I suddenly felt watched Winston? "

"Ah, you. What nonsense. He is a fiction is not it? "

"Yes. Living fiction, fiction became reality. I felt Winston was watching my movements. Like a double-edged history. He had not really gone. Actually, George, Malays have a lot of character to it. But as extinguished. Lately, it seems some people in this country felt his felt. It is said that they miss him. I think, they just pretend to miss it, George. "

"Sometimes the struggle begins from the pretense, Siti. Stalin or Suharto, I think so too. They're a tough fighter and indomitable, is not it? Just who fooled who feel oppressed and betrayed. The rest they enjoyed. But, by the way, when we could meet? "

"See? Ah, George. Are conversations through letters and phone calls is not enough? "

"It's not. There are unresolved if not met. "

"Renovation? No need to complete it? "

"Siti, I want to pass the brown river you tell me first."

"Ha .. ha ... actually, it's not chocolate river. Because brown water, so I call it a river of chocolate. "

"O ...."

"The name actually Siak."

"Siak River. You do not fully tell us about. "

"No don’t!. I am ashamed. "

"Why shy? I like the rivers. One of my favorite river is the Yarra River in Melbourne Australia. "

"Oh ... the river clean of hazardous waste is not it?"

"Yes. Have you been there? "

"Not yet. Just read. "

"Yes. The river is also a recreation center and rowing. There are also built pedestrian area for residents to walk and ride my bike. I think this is the window Kangaroo land. "

"Ha ... ha ... ha ..."

"What are you laughing?"

"Goerge, this is what makes me ashamed. You'll never find the same in my country. Siak River, if you compare it with the Yarra, far from the fire. Come Goerge, should be your intention to visit my country, okay? "

"No, I want to see you."

"Better not, George."

"What are you afraid of my presence, Siti?"

"I'm afraid you're experiencing the same fear. Like me. Fear of losing. "

"Lost?"

"Yes. Here have been lost as everyone belongs. The people have lost their river habitat. Away factories. They swallow the waste. On behalf of their industry was defeated. Sea sand loss. Earth's forests and oil loss. The people living in the clouds of smog, in the floodwaters, and a prolonged oil shortage. Poet, George, loss of language. And in a minute, everyone will lose this island. Abrasion, George. Similar cake eaten ants, the island is gradually decreasing. I lost history. People lose themselves, and ask, who am I? They are confused. Then they were hostile each other. Universal humanism here, now corrupted by race. Euphoria, George. A new resurrection unbalanced ... How? Would still want to see me, George? "

Phone on the other side, quiet.

"Hello .. Goerge. Hello ... "

"E ... sorry Siti."

"You must have been thinking about two-dozen times to see it?"

"Oh no. I'm daydreaming. My imagination had suddenly sailed into your island. There are a number of stories have been strung in the head. I was even more interested to see you. "

"Whatever, George. I certainly did not prohibit and did not tell. And this is not a promise, okay. "

"Where can I see you? Your address? "

"Not difficult. Just browse the Siak River. Reached the tip of the bay. Then go to the nearest Airport. Meet me on Friday, at the coffee shop Pak Ngah, behind the old temple, next to the narrow alley where vendors sell agate ... and one thing, this is not a promise ... "

"Tut ... tut ... tut."

Phone on the other side, disconnected. Lonely.

***

IT WAS, Datuk Raja sea aka Laksemana Encik Ibrahim, has long gone. Not long after he regretted the decision to allow the Dutch to stay in Bengkalis. Goerge Orwell's story was very, tired on the way, to full loss of the country, not make him regret and stopped in the middle of the street to meet Siti Layla, female blue-blooded Malays, the descendants of kings. Goerge like Siti, Siti likes novels. Especially when Siti asked about the number of bizarre sentences were printed in capital letters in his novel in 1984 titled, "FREEDOM is SLAVERY, GOD is POWER, WAR is PEACE, THE POWER OF FOLLY is ..." and then Siti asked, "Is this what you mean by a country full of paradoxes , George? "

Now, the foot has Goerge standing stiffly on the edge of port Bandar Sri Laksemana. Goerge took a deep breath. There's sweat drying on the back of his shirt, a similar imprint burning blind map. Her blond hair rumpled, like mangrove roots are linked to each other. In his heart, George whispered, "This long journey to make me forget the way home, Siti." From a distance, a faint he read a large text, across the gate Bandar, "WELCOME TO THE LOSS OF STATE FULLY." Goerge strange smile.

Dusk is starting become heavy, taking Goerge move. The sound of birds circling Walet tall buildings, like the strange music and pointed, ringing in the walls of Bandar. Loss of whatsoever kind that makes this country issued a whimper? Is this a call Siti sang it Lancang Kuning. A ship that sailed into the night? Again Goerge strange smile.

It's Friday night. Goerge completely forgot to ask about the hours. What time did he have to meet in a coffee shop Siti Pak Ngah it. As the evening becoming stone. Cold sea winds, sometimes making Goerge want to make love. WARMTH is not it COOL? Ah, Siti Layla, where ee. I have reached the country. ..

Goerge asleep. After weary took him to a modest inn. Having decided to let the night pass, and wait for the late afternoon. "I'll meet you, tomorrow morning, Siti," returned Goerge strange smile.

***

FRIDAY, 07.30.

George along the crowded sidewalk vendors agate, behind the old temple. Right next to a narrow alley, a coffee shop was open. At the door of a signpost reads, "COFFEE STORE PAK middle." No doubt, this is sought.

Goerge entered. Cigarette smoke filled the room. Goerge just stood there, looking all round tables that have been filled with people. They sound like thousands of bees wing wing tantrums. Goerge but saw no woman there were Malays. That there are actually women-white women. Goerge began to wonder. Goerge walked slowly. Look closely at their faces who were busy boast. Goerge surprised. Goerge like never knew their faces. Suddenly, a voice from the other direction called his name.

"Goerge! Hey, George Orwell has arrived. "

Instantly the room silent. All eyes Goerge who stood bewildered. Soon, they were all smiling. Goerge welcome.

A man came "Hey, George. How are you. I hear you're almost finished a new novel? "

Goerge increased surprised, "Is it true ... you Albert Camus?"

"Yes, George, I have not changed, right? The rebels, the absurd that, George. I think today is the day most enjoyable. Not much chance for us to be together like this, George. Look, they all are our friends, George. That is, who was sitting in the corner sucking his cigar. You must know, Jean-Paul Sartre, the French existentialism swordsman. Then it was, who's younger than you, Marquez. Gabriel García Márquez. Pity he Goerge, for a hundred years he experienced the silence. That, in the corner there, (in a whisper) that he was looking for lice under a bushy beard, hic ... hic ... first Nobel Literature Prize Sully Prudhomme. Goerge patient, (whispering) he's really no better than you. Well, that is, George, he's younger than you, a writer who often hungry, you know him? He Knut Hamsun. So-so novel. And we may be encouraged, George, when he get a Novels Literature. An Award for the struggle against the difficulties of his life ... "

Goerge more confused. Why did they all come together here? Then where Siti?

"Why did Goerge. Relax. Sitting here Goerge. Here are our brother's so funny, like to laugh and make sure the book, Milan Kundera. I think he is still communist, George. Look, her hand was still rough. Understandably, the former workers. But this bad, he's a professor. And this, you must know, friend of Gandhi, Rabindranath Tagore. He was our parents, George. Goerge Unfortunately, we can not meet with our parents the other, a famous poet Malays, Raja Ali Haji. Heard the news, he was busy building the country's words, George. State Gurindam. "

Goerge shook their hands. Fortunate to be able to meet great authors of the world. This rare opportunity. But save confusion Goerge very. He then sat next to Albert Camus. With a little whisper Goerge asked, "Why are you, and they all here?"

"To see someone. I'm sure, you too. "

"A woman?"

"Yes. A woman named Siti Layla. "

"Yes, Lord. You, and they ...? "

"Yes. Communicate with each other. By mail or telephone. "

Goerge as if in disbelief. But that was in front of his eyes, is real.

"Then, where Siti?"

"Nothing."

"No?"

"Yes. He left a letter on secerbis Pak Ngah. For us all. "

Goerge rose from his seat. Taking a letter to Mr. Ngah, and read:

"My friends are good.

I hate promise. Promise me just give people the opportunity to find gaps lie. And I'm not lying. Because I never promised.

Who am I? I was not there. I only fragments of the past who is visiting your imagination space. I was a narrow alley, which could only be passed by a pajalan feet. I was a beautiful time, melenggangkan anxiety, fear, and lose-lose.

Welcome to the land filled with loss.
Best regard, Siti Layla ."***

Pekanbaru, September 2004

Riau Pos Note: This is a short story
I Laman Cipta Winners Literary Arts Council of Riau

Dead for Reasons

Toward the end of the rainy season, flooding Gung time. The current violent homes had been dragged some residents Hamlet Greetings, clumsy, and Hamlet Sembung. Long bridge that connects the capital with regional tourism district collapsed CACABAN floods swallowed. The tragedy was a provincial newspaper headlines. I read it with feeling hurts.

Somewhat hasty call home boss. I repeatedly apologized for waking up a new boss. "Did you already read the paper today?" I say carefully.

"What's that all about? Devaluation? Inflation? Demonstration? Or?"

I read the news about the floods and the collapse of major bridges Gung time that happened in awkward evening yesterday.

"So?"

"Is not it three months we did not join the project tender?"

"Ah, yes, yes! I know what you mean. Come to the office faster. If I can be assigned to our people in Government and Public Works Department. Look for more information. Arrange everything!"

I said yes.

"Do not forget, the report Vases tourism area development accelerated. Complete with pictures!" How well he ordered something containing a strategy. "Dana tactical and operational costs can you take in Finance," said Boss.

"Yes, sir. Thank you."

"We recommend that you check the location, so not only knew of journalists or other sources."

"I will soon be leaving?"

Departure to the location, then turned back home. Imagine how I feel torn disaster Gung time. On the other hand, my position again exist. And the foreman in charge of nearly two hundred workers did not waste any more time.

Together surveyors, we traveled to the scene in Slawi, 160 miles away. Along the way, I feel nostalgic. Especially when you pass the road parallel to the coast of Java Sea. Rows and rows of palm trees and warm sun, making the illusion of the past jump.

Through the middle of the day, the jeep we passed fields of sugar cane area in the region Pangkah, and arrived at the disaster site. We went down to see the river still-rising tide. Time framework of the bridge half buried in the brown water carrying mud from upstream. I shuddered. Those who become victims, are brothers-born compatriots.

Once, I and my friends like to bathe in the river pool. While residents who live along the river to mine stone, gravel, and sand are endless. Usually, after the flood-wave, abundant rocks back and regarded as a reward for their sacrifices. And that's what led flood stones from the mountain in the upper abdomen.

Traffic now virtually cut off. We take pictures, and just started to leave the site an hour later. Loop road, tour of the county in the past, which now has changed a lot. An area that had raised me, before Urbanist movement contribute to the provincial capital.

The next week, local government offices and the DPU District look more busy. Most of the activities revolve about the plan to build a bridge at awkward Gung time. Other contractors also had to conduct a survey and do something.

The boss told him that a special meeting will be held at our office. Seeing the preparations, there was a kind? Consumption? special. I sensed: we would win the tender!

Special meeting participants consisted of staff of government officials, consultants, and several community leaders who appear wise but a bit mysterious.

"We do not want people constantly overwritten trouble! Major bridge collapse to transport traffic. It affects the economic condition of the growing city, is also troubling small people. In the end, the bridge construction project will only benefit certain parties for career and personal wealth . We certainly disagree with this kind of terror, "said someone who represents the local government.

"We were given a more modest alternative," said one community leader. "A pair of new bride will make a lasting bridge. We set the best possible scenario. Try to finish before the next rainy season."

My don’t understand on the content of that conversation does not show. Moreover boss introduced me as the Project Manager, with a description of curriculum vitae somewhat exaggerated.

Four months have passed, after we receive the decision as the winner of the tender. Now, the pillars of a new bridge made of huge steel frame and foundation stone fortress-mountain was almost finished. River flows docile, waiting for the promise of a replacement bridge collapsed by? Temperament? His bad. At one end of the pier, the proprietor was busy serving of rice about a hundred workers.

I left the Board of Directors Kit, and down to the field. If this is the last day of pier settlement, of the last day for us to talk with a husband-wife-new bridal shop owner. I wanted to share the joy, as? Ceremony? separation.

"Just married to a big contract. It's called the fall months, Yu!" said a porter who ate rice with stew jengkol. "Want to take a trip where you later?"

"Well, better to rent a stall near the market, Kang." Women shop that built it is flushed shape. "Put-receding fortunes as Gung time. So do not be dissipated on the razzle."

"After this bridge completed, you can build a house," said another, justifying, as he asked for additional rice.

"Hopefully, Kang. Overseer well. The pay is always on time. When completed yes, Kang?" the husband asked the proprietor.

"It depends on buyers. But this is ahead of schedule. Tomorrow the castle bridge should be done," the foreman explained the casting. "Could you should move to the top."

"Wow, then tomorrow should make a new tent," the woman turned her husband's shop.

"Do not worry. We'll make it like the ice-shop that dawet there, a little also so." He hits ass wife, a reflex wave of the hand.

"Ordinary cigarette, Yu! Two packs," I interrupted their busy lives. "With all sticks. It's his money."

"The return does not exist, sir," said the shop woman saw the bill with the largest nominal in my hand. "Many owes."

"Yes, I did, later." I took the cigarette and lit another. Kuhisap looking at the river sixty yards wide flows quietly. The bustle of traffic going in an emergency bridge, walking slowly, alternating directions.

"Oh yes, you'll make a lot of rice again. Tonight everyone was working overtime and can not be stopped. So dinner is presented to the late afternoon."

"Wow, when do you tired?"

"Tonight you can sleep soundly. No one will bother you," I consoled. Yes, sleep well! That's what we expected. But could not help shaking my feelings too.

"Sleeping, Yu! Not other," said a foreman. There was another loud laugh erotic tone.

***

Near twilight air turned cold. Insects began to sing. The roar of the river flowing like calling. According to plan, all workers, foremen, carpenters and porters, eat before dark sky. Once bustling atmosphere under the bridge. In lamp beam and the light of gene-set, the husband-wife owners of a busy shop again. Soon fatigue ambushed and they were both lying on the side will jump, on the mat. In the rhythmic music of the river, a different world will pick up.

One hundred workers began to spread, with each task they already understand. The sun had disappeared. Shop was quiet, stay crouched owner exhausted. While other vendors have left the area since the afternoon of the project.

I climbed up the embankment. I called the foreman. Only to those details of the scenario outlined and implemented with full responsibility. All of the orders, with special bonus bets at the end of the project.

I ordered them to work neatly and do not hesitate. Before dawn, pier shop shelter must be completed.

I returned to the Board of Directors Kit. From the window I saw all the artisans, laborers and foremen, ready to work. Someone shined a flashlight at me, husband and wife mark proprietor has fallen asleep. They deliberately contrived extraordinary tired, so not awake when the stone wall surrounding the stall. I saw steel wire began branjangan installed. Machines concrete mixer spinning liquid. The stones of three human heads dropped from above into a web of wires!

The wind that blew through the windows, wash my body fatigue last week, making heavy eyes. Toward the middle of the night had seen the last stone pier refining side, until no remaining cavity. And the shop and its contents were also buried. Strong sleepiness soon grind, then do not remember anything else.

I slept with a tangle of dreams. When awake, no longer hear the voice stream. No longer heard screaming outside insects. The eerie quiet that really bother me.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door of Directors Kit, which really made me aware, and my heart was beating fast. I saw hours: gee, at three o'clock in the morning! Wipe eyes felt heavy.

There was another knock at the door. I squirm with back pain. "Who?" my voice is still hoarse. "Come in!"

I got up and was surprised not to play when he saw someone coming. "You??!" Suddenly my knees trembled.

Guests were: male proprietor! Did not he sleep in a hollow pier? Caged stone with his wife?

"Sorry sir, I'm annoying. This change money you this afternoon." The man put a handful of money on the table. I looked at him without speechless. My throat was clogged. Cold sweat all over his back. "Excuse me, sir."

The proprietor came out and closed the door again. My body was limp extraordinary. Fear was spreading fast. I tried to open the door, but was surprised to hit a stone wall! I frantically ran to the window, but did not see nothing but solid stone structure, massive, and cold! I hit a stone-wall at the still motionless, silent. I was yelling frantically. My voice bouncing in a quiet room. Echoes caused terrible!

I kept yelling. Kept shouting! Until exhausted voice and my hands full of blood from the impact of rough stone walls. Until then heard the faint sound Gung current time so melodious. ***

This short story published in Republika Sunday, October 24, 1993,

sort of birthday gift to self

BLACK CAT

When does he come to me? I thought this day. In motion the wind pounding the ship, I'm getting ready. I fastened my seat belt. We in height. But what's the use of this belt? I was expecting the engine to die. Then hit the reef. Or drowned in the sea. So that's when the wait: Death to fetch me. I wanted to see death. In its original form. Not sleeping. Means I have to wake up. Rolled his eyes. Feel it slice by slice. As people munched pizza.

It was almost 99 times I saw death. But at the last moment, he always avoided. And, it was a painful failure. It makes me sad and curious. Until there's nothing more I do, except on him. Because bored and tired, sometimes great passion was dead. But at a time like this, he came with seduction and persuasion. Sure I'll succeed. When I turned back, he twisted like a football player. So that made me crazy. So what kill them there. Another indiscriminately.

Tired of human slaughter, sometimes I go into the jungle. Search for a king, if he could help me. Same thing. Roars and paws was also paralyzed. Although we've covered in blood. Until finally I managed to break his neck stem. And, yesterday my wife's turn. He is good at martial arts. So, so-so I hope to die. Therefore, I grab him. I stabbing with a dagger. We almost hit, slowly I move..

Provide an opportunity for her to escape. And, indeed he could escape. But the devil! He's not going to kill me even thoughtful compassion. Makes me like a child caught stealing. So, you want to die. Well you die. So dagger I stabbing many times. My wife's jaw dropped in disbelief, before closing this desire . I could not sleep anymore. Like anything else death will come to me?

Everything I've done. In fact, I've entered the battlefield. Throw grenades, shoot the enemy, an enemy shot. No one makes death come to me. Until when really want to see it: I was walking toward the enemy without preparation. Pitch with a gun in his hand. Protrude stick out his head and my body. They even laughed. I get entertainment like a madman.

Hurt by being treated like that, I fired automatic rifles. The commander shouted, look out! This guy is not crazy! So I chased dozens of people and I jump to trench for trench, ran to the county itself. The boys fired heavy machine guns, when I jumped the last ditch.

They hugged me and a friend of mine said as he placed the medal, my friends, this is a good example of that soldier, dared to infiltrate enemy territory, alone. Oh, agony, just a simple desire: to see death coming and a fight in the morning, I gasped, if you really want to see death, why do not bite your tongue until death? Or stuck a dagger. The head with a pistol shot. These thoughts make me beat. True. Why did not occur during this? But I do not want to die of suicide. I wanted a natural death. Because that is not coming from me. I want to feel the death over and I can get ready.

And tactical greet him. Test the possibilities. Because there's nothing interesting in the world except death. We live and die. The process of life toward death that is inviting questions. Are we the cause of death? When? Can death be engineered? The reason of our own making. And then we die. Not? Why not? So I have tried all my life, until the words 'can not' prove it to me.

So I began to focus on it: where and in what manner I can meet death. But, what events will happen to me? I was so quick and as fast as bullets. How could death come to me. Sick? My body is very healthy. Look after my body. I give nutritious food. I gave more than enough exercise. So do not be fooled by humans - also of the universe. Not to mention my instincts. I can read something that will happen. You would not believe. But it's true.

Many things that already I know. I could see the ship sinking. Car into a ravine. Gold in the canyon. I could see the murder that happened many thousands of miles from where I stood. I could see people masturbate. Thief in the night action. Everything was so clear in my eyes.

I never knew was my own death. And, so I always create it. Challenge. In case there underneath the last. never seen anything that will befall this country. According to my vision, the country will be chaotic, turbulent edge, middle, too. Nothing can be trusted, because people just playing with words. As it goes I see we're going to disappear: the nations invaded neighbor. And we are paralyzed.

Until the people that make their own struggle. That we are immersed in a battle for fifteen years. Until then we really become a powerful nation, to realize how great the gift of God, and come out as the winner. Only after the great war, grew trusted persons, full of joy of life.

Mature personal battle, the people who survived the war. But who would hear me? I'm just a man full of complexes. I could see the future but the likes killing people. I'm just a guy who wants to see killer alone, than on a night when I saw my body was in a plane that slid into the rock, how happy my heart. I'd love singing, jumping up and down excited. But I saw something else again. Somewhat vague but it makes me withdraw my excitement jumps. As if I saw a black cat darted from the lake of fire.

Very agile despite a large and powerful body. Black cat symbol of my soul. But I still have to catch the plane. Witnessed what happened at the vibrations. we feel very good. The aircraft was rattled. Hysteria that had shouted now disappeared. Trembled with fear. Glued to our seats. A flight attendant appeared from behind the cabin. Then followed by the pilot. I saw death in their faces. Pilots and flight attendants were destroyed in flames. But I have not seen my own death.

Relax! Relax! Indeed there is damage and a death machine, plus strong winds. But we will overcome them. Please work together so that everything goes well. One woman next to me hissed, shivering in his prayer. Oh God, just this once, grant my prayer. Grant my prayer. I saw my husband and my son's face. How I want them. But to no avail. Because I saw this woman also died. Burning flames. The big ball swallowed whole plane. But where my death? where are you, my dear? I still do not see it in the mountain rock. Place of our aircraft were destroyed and debris-fragments in the wind as far as the beach where tourists swim hanging himself.

Sitting beside me, a line on the left, a young mother holding her baby the other tightly. He did not say anything. He only prayed in his heart. Children aged three months it lay quiet.

And just like me, I did not see death on their faces. I spoke to them with a nod. Relax, we'll survive. Yes, I think so. I also felt it would be safe from this disaster. Then we held again, when for the umpteenth time, we felt the plane back rattled. This time again the pilot came out and unlike before, it was obvious panic in her face. Although the hard he tried to hide it. He gave orders that are not heard by us. But the flight attendant immediately ran and took what was requested by the pilot.

My black cat darted back into the lake of fire, with several people including the mother and baby. Somehow initially, on the hundredth calculations, the plane seemed to turn around. That's when I saw the breathing tubes hang on. I caught the hose and began to breathe properly. But, then again I could not breathe when I felt the metal die is rolled without sound, and the people on the plane was screaming like a madman. I felt a delicious moment was critical.

Open fuselage. I heard the wind raged like a deafening angry nature. Clouds running beside us while everyone else closed eyes. The plane plunged to earth.

I like seeing other natural colors. My mind is calm. My feelings too. Death, come to me, though I can not do anything. This is when the long wait. Rather regret is I could not do anything. And therefore could not scheming to avoid him. But I'm still not convinced, too. Because, again I saw the black cat that darted through the waves of fire, when I felt the tremendous vibration and started to not recognize anything anymore.

To Amien RaisJakarta, August 5, 2002

in the afternoon

A houndred houses surrounded by water in jakarta. this flood came from ciliwung river. the city south jakarta, bogor have a heavy rain for 2 days tomorrow and the water falling down by rivers to jakarta. because this city surface is lower than sea.. so flood is become bussines as usual.

Crazy Woman in Kitchen

Looked forward to death, Wak Haji Mail even delirious. At first no one caught what he said. I thought it could not. Do not want to, more precisely. I myself, as soon as permitted to hear directly digest immediately, not words, but a name. This muttered over and over among the poor intake of breath. Saodah.

Two weeks after the hospital gave up and returned it to the house, Haji Pak Mail has not picked Azrael. The fourteenth child of three increasingly difficult to muffle her marriage anxiety, alternating guard outside the room, ready to revolt from the division of inherited property is not fair. There's no way fair.

Hajj was off maghrib Mail opened his eyes and mouth speaks again. One hour later all the people continue to rush into so furious Misnah Wak. Fourteen children, grandchildren and, of course, makes the situation could quickly turn into the night market. That time Wak Misnah, Haji Mail's first wife, drove all the people, and called me inside.
"Did you hear?" Asked my aunt half snapped. I pause. In front of me, Wak Haji lying like a piece of wood. Indistinct, in between the heavy breathing, I could hear his voice, low and in pain. Wak toward Misnah, I nodded.

"Call him." My aunt's voice a little shaky, shocked me. What worried about?
On the road, I made up now own a piece of love affairs not until Wak Haji Mail on Saodah Mak. Just like my love of Aminah.

A few minutes after I ask a request of our family, Mak Saodah remained unmoved. Previously, I imagine he would hurry up, brushed herself off and briefly and then sat on the luggage rack of my bike. Although Pak Haji Mail machetes science practice in the case alms, all the villagers knew that Madame Saodah as always stingy drug store in the vegetable and side dishes. Not enough to build latrines with septic tanks, Wak Haji Mail sent people to build a semi permanent shanties, cement floor of the front of the house of Madame Saodah, electric pair, and send their five children through high school Saodah Mak. Finally he was granting the former wife of the refrigerator so they can make Saodah Mak own ice cubes and ice candles.

Mak Saodah in front of me was still motionless. Her eyes filled with tears and I thought he had touched. Amina, her older daughter, approached. He had been silent in the corner, listening. Now he groped maknya back, soothing. I saw a moment, seemed rattled the jaws Saodah Mak. I'm not sure.

Aminah looked sharp. I'm getting nervous. His gaze always made me feel have made a mistake. Since first. Perhaps because of the dirty mind easily read. Since arriving from abroad, last week, only this time I saw him. Aminah more beautiful.

"Madame did not want. You better go home, "Aminah said softly, seriously.
This sentence ulu stabbed my heart. My stomach churn. He once told me this same sentence. His words, arrangement, song, nearly the same. The only difference, he used to add this sentence is not the name of maknya, but his own.
I forced her eyes, trying hard not give in to her beauty. Once, I failed, then bowed his head, walked home with unsteady, married a cousin who had long since arranged for me to forget, but instead found that, during the ceremony, his face haunted me. Now I swear, in the heart, no longer.

Kubulatkan my resolve. This time, I'm not going home empty-handed. At least, I have to get a reason. Aminah smiled, a little weird. Looks like he merendahkanku. Yes, he merendahkanku. Did he also merendahkanku?
"The reason, Minah. At least there's a reason. "This phrase, I'm not sure is ask for the case where.

For some reason, she looked down. He seemed to think a moment before then decided to carry maknya rise, and led him back into the kitchen. A moment later, from the kitchen, I heard a roar. Mak Saodah voice.

I invented an explanation now in my head. Mak Saodah not come because they can not accept someone so instrumental in his life was dying. He would not look so sad. Would not exacerbate the family endured sadness Haji Mail.

It's a strange thought, actually. Everyone knows how hard Saodah Mak. Hard to face customers, hard to keep secret her kitchen. Many years to open shop in the village to eat, do not make good Be nice. The customer called Madame Galak, keep coming back to his stall simply because the delicacy of the cuisine is difficult unchallenged. I know almost all my life and never once saw him smile. Not even the Hajj Mail or distinguished people in this village. The boys of our village my grandmother called Magic Forbidden Forest because when night came he was always menggerai long hair and a figure even more terrifying.

My mind has not broken down well when Aminah out. Her eyes were red and swollen. I'm sure he cried. He sat in front of me, but it could turn when he heard shouts from the kitchen. This cry is followed by the sound of breaking dishes crashed. Or slam.
Aminah back at me, but this time calmly, as calmly as his voice filled my request. A piece of reasons, a piece of the story. I still would not understand even long after he finished this story. Either because the story was so difficult and horrible, or because all the talk, broken plates ditingkahi bebunyi slam, his voice remained as calm as a pond.
When I was called in, Wak Misnah was sitting in the left side of the head Haji Mail. That side of the ear Haji Mail still want to work. I sat down, but failed to overcome anxiety.
Haji Mail long muttered, exhausted. Misnah time put his ear to the mouth Haji Mail. Not sure, ask at Misnah Wak the ear of the miser. He mumbled back light, but seemed to understand Misnah Wak. My aunt had cleared his throat and nodded.
"What said the Saodah?" He asked, half yelled. This question is not the slightest felt awkward in his mouth, but half an hour ago he received the answer already.
Even if I told you before, I knew my story would return stammered. Even worse. Once the panic, my sentence was a mess and not sequential, like a kid learning to talk. Fortunately, Wak kekacauanku improve Misnah diligent. He repeated the story told in the ear of the miser with loud, as he always did the last 10 years.
"Anything else?" Snapped my aunt.

I choked for a moment before shaking his head. Among cekat feelings and shake my head could think to express the secret Aminah told me. Not really a secret because only a light outline. Haji Mail Saodah sinned against Mak. Her husband, Amina's father, slandered apostate, polytheism, polytheists, infidels, exiled people like lepers village, left to die without dignity.

This remind me when I heard moaning Haji Mail. She moaned long and painful agony. I believe the right choice. No need to tell you, Haji Mail remember.

Fifteen minutes later, having left a message that can only hear his wife, Haji Mail and piece of mind to go. I saw him stretch last breath, a slow breath as hit the exhausting life. Back of my neck hairs rise. I've just shared a room with Azrael. Wak Misnah still trying to determine her husband's last command, asked loudly in his ear that had just left behind.
Early morning, after dawn, I returned to the house of Madame Saodah with mixed feelings mixed. Facing Mak Saodah scared, but came home without the effort and face the same Misnah Wak horrible. Halting forced myself delivered last request Haji Mail.
Mak Saodah listened quietly to this request. I can not tell legaku feeling when I saw him nod. He got up and did not find older women who have helped to walk into the kitchen, last night. Mak Saodah full strength. Until the kitchen, he had sibakkan curtains, blocking the door. His shadow looms large on the curtain.

Amina was still living with me. Apparently Madame Amina Saodah not allow foot in her kitchen. Worked alone to meet the demand of the late Pak Haji, Mak Saodah must hurry to prepare meals for hundreds of people who will bertahlil tonight.
Glass of tea in front of me was still half full so I decided to sit any longer. Besides, I do not know where to go. New funeral will be conducted after sunrise, back to my aunt's house just to contaminate the mind than to clean it. Fourteenth cousin was out of control, an argument can not be postponed again.

Aminah mood, somehow a little brighter. Thought to ask what right he worked as a cook abroad and really, as people say, that he did not want to go back to live in this village.
Cleared his throat not fit, I decided to open a conversation. "I heard you tell Makmu stopped trading, Minah?"
Amina looked at me, seemed pleased by my question, then nodded. "Yes, but Mak did not want to."
"Why?"

Aminah's smile disappeared, but his eyes were still clear round. He looked thoughtful for a moment before then said, "Mak said, trade is the reason to live."
"Trade?"

Amina was thinking about the answers anymore. A moment later he found a more appropriate word. A few words. "No, not berdagangnya. Cooking for the villagers. Yes, that's what saved him, "Amina sentence interrupted briefly. His eyes got wide open when he muttered, "it saved me."

This statement, confusing. The whole village is, if the true story of Amina yesterday, was not hell for Mak Saodah?

I sat quietly and tried to solve the confusion. Long. Ten minutes later, Amina seemed to feel sorry for my face because merot-Perot did not understand. He called me over. I came with alacrity, but he quickly put his index finger in his mouth, his eyes glaring naughty threatening. I refine my pace, without a sound approach. He bent over the kitchen curtains, I followed him. For a moment I remember, we were both as eight-year-old boy, 20 years ago, standing on tiptoe peering Saodah Mak. Once, long before reaching the kitchen curtains are snapped Madame Saodah us. Now the screaming voice that did not come. I looked down at the back of Aminah. We were very close, I could see the back of his neck under her hair curled, her smell, her hair. Neck, ready to drown me. I'm a little drunk, do not believe it. A moment of joy and even overwhelming and my heart. Aminah radius lovely kitchen curtain
.
With one eye I could see, Saodah Mak was working, chopping cooking, prepare the oven, put the spices into the pot. It took a few seconds for me to find out what strange of all this. Mak Saodah constantly spitting ingredients was doing. I could not look out for Aminah turned to me, he seemed to feel nafasku too close, warm on his cheek. I was surprised. That's when I whispered, deliverance asked. Kupendam old question and I thought it was not going to ask again.

"Minah, why do you always reject my application?"
I do not remember if Amina could answer, because maknya from the kitchen makes me dumbfounded.

Mak Saodah was lifted high the fabric, through the knee, then stood half crouched astride one pot whose contents began to boil. The look on his face, a strange combination of push and hatred, horrible. A second later, from where he stood, I heard a familiar whistling sound and sound of water falling into the pan. Mak Saodah spat again into the pot, once.

Ping and the rush was not finished when the eyes of Madame Saodah sharp, look at me.
After tahlilan disbanded, I sat next Misnah Wak. While besek helped distribute the food, I was forced to hear the old adage. This advice does not make sense to say this, but it seems my aunt was like talking karuan not mind not bother to question. Two children was just about to kill each other, this afternoon.

Although memorized by heart, I found that the two never understand as this lesson now. First, that there are 42 kinds of crazy people. "If you want to understand everything, just remember uwakmu actions, the late Haji Ismail." Second, that the human mind has long separated. Crazy man on the street, women in the kitchen. "That's why you never understood. Do not you think you are smarter than this aunt. I will make you dead later. "
Life poisoned, I think, more horror .*

Ripin

When his friends scattered to the highway, Ripin was painstakingly counted the number of marbles won. That afternoon, not least crossed his mind that his childhood would soon be over. Twenty-two, maybe more. He quickly put the marbles into his pocket and hurried after his flock.

Focus puller was none other herd is berpengeras pickup sound and a large poster hung colorful. The engine would not bergerung like losing noisy with loudspeakers, making Rhoma Irama song sounded even worse than that usually heard from the radio Ripin you. When the car was passing in front of them, were startled gaze Ripin man beside the driver who was holding a microphone. The man has sideburns and a neat beard like Rhoma Irama. Curly hair was like Rhoma Irama. Ripin had remembered his father who also had Dikin sideburns, beard, and hair like Rhoma Irama, but his father was long dead Dikin shot.

Whoever started, the whole herd had suddenly been screaming with delight and ran behind the car. Ran after the car speed is not faster than a cow, Darka, his friend who was at large, successfully jumped onto the back of the car and jumawa hips. Once some of the others tried to follow Darka and fall, the herd cheers sounded increasingly boisterous.

Ripin ran a little way behind. Twenties who won marbles and a dozen others which is the capital, making tight pocket, and these events instead he had never experienced. Formerly, stitches in his pants torn and tumbled marble. His friends scrambled to take the marbles and no one was willing to return it. This time he must be careful.

Initially, Ripin plans to follow wherever the herd ran, but he heard the announcement over the loudspeaker that made him stop. Among ketipung music and car engine, he heard a faint sound, like the sound Rhoma Irama, was announced the night market, a barrel the devil, and the house ghost. Later that night, in the square. Ripin stunned, then turned direction and ran back to the house.

MAK was sitting when the stove blew Ripin barged into the kitchen, panting. Eluded clear what his little mouth. Ripin busy chattering while insert-marbles marbles into a milk cans. His voice is stacked with the sound of marbles one by one against the wall in the can. Only bits and pieces of sentences that could be heard Ripin Mak, but it was enough. There was no carnival. There was no barrel of the devil.

Ripin sulk. Said half yelling about the coming Rhoma Irama and hope Mak persuaded. Mak thought, how could Rhoma Irama would come to this rotten city. Rhoma Irama just want to come to Cirebon or Semarang. Tegal's possible, but not our city. Likewise, this name makes Mak could face brightened before then his brow furrowed anxiously.

Ripin know it. Ripin know if Madame secretly cry every time I hear on the radio singing Wahab. Ripin even seen Mak held and rocked the radio. And Mak has vowed not to cry. How hard you hit the face Mak.

Ripin look anxiously to the face and hope Mak Mak once was willing to do desperate. This expectation was only made to feel guilty Ripin. Mak desperate last time, go watch the layer step on Bergitar Satria, Mr. Mak beat until dawn. Ripin this when it could only nyumput under the blanket and held her mouth to cry so silent.

"Mak don’t have money," said Mak lied. Ripin know Mak save a little money in a biscuit tin kitchen spice. Enough for the fare and buy popsicles. Ripin angry because Mak lied. Anger makes no longer care about the memory of stripes on the face Mak. Mak, a lie is a sin.

Once again Ripin Irama name, swear to God that he had seen. Handsome right.

"Handsome Kien bapane Dikin karo."

Mak stunned. Ripin out all the weapons. He knew, Madame Dikin pleased with his father. When his father passed in front of the house Dikin, Mak peeping from behind the door. One time he even saw his father once Dikin furtively out of the kitchen door of his house and the more quickly so bersitatap with Ripin. That day the love of money allowance Mak, Ripin even more suspicious. Ripin but never told this to anyone.

Mak's face hardened. Mak would think about you. Mak afraid. Ripin was thinking of going alone to the night market. Looks like it's not hard. Everyone would know where the night market was established, he lived did not have to be shy to ask. Unfortunately he was still afraid. My grandmother used to Ripin message did not argue or Mr Mak. Do not play too late. The punishment for rebellious children are losing the way to his house and doomed to being lost forever, so said my grandmother. Ripin shuddered and more anxious about Madame refused his invitation.

Mak and Ripin used to have fun every night, because you certainly do not come home before dawn. Dad slept all afternoon, and wander through the night. Mak did not had time to take her to the city, but at least they never passed any spectacle in their village. Mak even watch TVRI accompany the village.

That was back when Dad was still the greatest hero. There were now more powerful champion of the Father. Said the people, this champ like the devil. No one knows who it was, where his house, what he looks like. Dikin father one of his victims. One morning his body was found floating in the river, two gunshot wounds, in the chest and forehead. Whiz-local hero who was first a lot of dead. From its name, Ripin suspect this must be the champ Kresten.

Since this vicious bully around, you often come home. Even for days not out of the house. Mak and Ripin so can not see the show and you become more frequent beat Mak. Since it was also Mr. Ripin decided to teach the Koran. Bored beat Mak, taught the Koran for Mr. Ripin same as getting ready in the beat of rattan.

New this past week, you apparently can not bear to stay at home for long. He started getting out tonight, but her schedule more difficult to ascertain. No one knows for how long he was gone and when he came home.

Until this afternoon, Madame seemed nervous, pacing around the kitchen. Ripin anxious to know if it means Mak can not stand for dolan and have fun. Madame was tired of hearing the radio. If you have this, would not urgent Ripin Mak again. His decision was almost certainly, just waiting for Madame Ripin find a way out. Until the afternoon too, Ripin fell asleep in the front seat. Dream carousel ride.

Dad came in and kicked the chair Ripin. Ripin surprise, woke to find heavy hand you twist his right ear. With the rough, you dragged him into the well, and the command then you do not need to say anymore. Ripin take water for ablution and prayer ashar rushed.

After the prayer, you have to wait at the table. Prepared a long rattan on his left and Arabic letters spelling Ripin ahead haltingly. Dad seemed drunk. From his mouth came out sour smell that nose piercing Ripin. When drunk, usually hit harder rotannya. Ripin has not beaten already feel her pain.

New paragraph 10, saw Mr. Ripin has put his head into the table. In verse 12, Ripin doubt that she heard was the soft snoring father. In verse 16 Ripin stop, you are really asleep. Snore loudly.

Ripin could not decide whether he should go. Ripin can not imagine what kind of anger that would happen to him if you suddenly woke up and he had nothing before you. Resignation, he sat in front of you, in silence. He thought, continuing to teach would be useless. Better still. Damn, suddenly want to piss Ripin. Madame was still pacing around the kitchen. Sit tight and Ripin in mind is a haunted house ride at the night market.

By the evening prayer before you awake. Ripin was still sitting quietly, holding urine, in front of you. Conditions hold pee make less Ripin standby. Awoke and found Ripin was frozen, making wicker on the left side of Dad drifted toward his right hand hard. Ripin gasped and immediately put on white face, not entirely because of pain in hand. Ripin urine.

Dad heard the rush of it, looking stunned. He looked down the table and stood up straight menyambarkan cane in his hand to the face Ripin, while from his mouth curses erupted. Ripin covered her face with both hands and you keep hitting him. Ripin could not refrain from crying and screaming in pain. In his pain he felt watching Tong Satan became increasingly impossible, so he screamed louder. Madame hurried from the kitchen, holding Dad's hand and begged him to stop his actions.

Mr. Ripin was stopped beating, but the desire to hit him high already. Dad swung rotannya several times to the body Mak. Mak sat on the floor, and moved back until his back touched the wall, and you have not finished. Mak did not scream or cry. Mak silent. His body was like a statue. Ripin think that will happen the same as that ever. Mak will cover his face, and you will quit because of exhaustion.

That afternoon, it was not the same. Ripin do not understand what was happening. After a while it slashes on her cane, Mak suddenly looked up, then looked at you intently. Ripin know what that look means. The look that he had aimed at Darka, just before their first fight. Previously Darka fear Ripin, but when he looked at it intently, he was not going to be afraid anymore. Mak was not afraid anymore.

Almost simultaneously, sound azan maghrib of surau. Where either, or the maghrib azan Mak look that stop you. Dad turned to Ripin and Ripin threatened to strike again if the prayer later in Ripin no surau. Dad took the holster and left slamming the door.

Ripin suddenly see that Mak has incredible powers. Rose with alacrity, and then asked him, "Sira bun forgetting what you Madame?" Ripin called, "Madame," with trembling. Mak came into the room, then hastily put her clothes and into the bag Ripin. In front of the cabinet of Madame had to stop and think what else he needs to carry. No clear reason for entering the box of Madame costume jewelry that is of no value to the bag.

A moment later, Madame Ripin was holding hands along the darkening road toward town. Mak walked with quick steps and wide, and keep distress Ripin. There is no Madame uttered a word and walked with a full Ripin fear. The highway is near, less than a hundred yards. Mak suddenly stopped. Looks thoughtful, then reverses direction. Half-muttering Mak said that she forgot to bring money. In a hurry, Mak told Ripin wait. Not waiting for an answer, Mak ran toward the house, leaving Ripin alone.

Ripin originally stood in the deserted village street, and intended to comply with Mak, but then struggled and increased anxiety quickly. Ripin decided to run at full speed toward the house. Brought a large bag Mak left lying on the road.

Panting, in front of his house, he found the front door opened and in the living room, he could see the hair you're being slammed Mak and Mak small head into the wall.

GATE entered Satan Tong opened. People fought to buy tickets. Ripin stepped in with a sense of awe. People are scrambling up the stairs to stand next to a very large barrel, and jostled him. At the top, Sam imitate some of the kids who went up the steps, apparently provided for the kids size and role. People fought looked into the vat.

Tong's, remembered well Ripin behind his house. In the barrel two people were already running trail. Then slowly, like magic, the two motors that began traveling down the barrel wall and the longer spinning faster and faster. Ripin impressed with what he saw and regret. If Mak can join. Ripin kept looking at the two motors which each jump each other. Ripin more amazed that the bike down the wall of a barrel reached almost to the end, so close to where he stood. Her little hands can reach the motors.

Tong Satan ends. Ripin wanted to stay there for a while, to see more, but officers found him a ticket and drove him away. Outside, there are actually many have not witnessed Ripin. He has not got a Ferris wheel, not in the Ghost House, but no dikantungnya any money left. Mak cans where the money has pushed the store from earlier. Cans are now in a cell only contains marbles. No one wanted to exchange a ticket with marbles.

Outside, the complex was so crowded night market. Ripin walked wherever he saw only joy. Madame would be glad, if you could be here. As soon as he remembered Madame, he remembered that announced Rhoma Irama night market with a car this afternoon.

Ripin a hunch to find the source of the speaker. True. In front of a table containing various types of fake beards and sideburns, the Rhoma Irama stood, still with a microphone and a melodious voice. He wore bright clothes, just as he had ever seen on a poster Rhoma Irama. Ripin approached to make sure once again. If this is Rhoma Irama, he'll be able to tell Madame, I'll Mak was happy. He should have tried harder to wake Mak, but can not bear Ripin. Mak sleeping very soundly.

Ripin was so close, he and a man dressed in sparkling it was only separated from the table, but not men squinting at least Ripin. Ripin trying to attract male attention, but apparently he was busy with his announcement. Idly, Ripin took a bunch of false whiskers and a beard and then slipped it into his pants pocket. Men dressed in glittering did not listen.

Ripin decided to call him. "Hey, Rhoma Irama," he cried aloud. People turned around and laughed tercekikik. Men's dress sparkling surprise, then turned toward him. Aware that this boy cries has made more people notice it, a man, with a microphone in front of the mouth, said. "Not. Not Wahab. "The man then change the position of the establishment, as if dancing. "My name Ruslan. Ruslan rhythm, "he said in a voice heavy and wet. People laughed.

Ripin looked at him with disappointment. "Hey, kid," says Ruslan rhythm. Ripin up, failed to cover his eyes filled with tears.

"What's your name?"

Ripin mentioned his name with trembling and ashamed.

"Ah, very nice. Ripin. Ripin from Arifin. "

Then Ruslan rhythm suddenly loud. "Everyone can be like bang haji Rhoma Irama. Anyone. Night market visitors that we respect, welcome the future of our great artists, Arifin rhythm, "said Ruslan rhythm. The people who gathered around the table applauded Rhythm Ruslan toward Ripin. Ruslan then took his guitar rhythms. "At first it was the character. Then the music. "Then Ruslan rhythm guitar picking. Ripin had never seen such a beautiful guitar. Shiny black, with gold color motif. His voice was loud and smooth.

Beautiful guitar still recollected when the market broke the night and the lights began to shut down. Just in front of the driveway the night market, Ripin realized he did not know where home. His grandmother was right. Her house was gone.

Confusion, Ripin instead stepped back into the complex the night market. Footsteps took him to the table Ruslan Rhythm. He was surprised to see no anyone around that table. There was only a shiny black guitar, Ruslan no rhythm. Carefully, he touched the guitar, then picked it up. He was more surprised to see how the guitar is so light.

Some twenty minutes later he walked the sidewalk toward where either. He stole his guitar with a courage that somehow come out of nowhere. He remembered Mak. He smiled. The only thing that is not either is that Mak will always love Rhoma Irama. That's what I will accomplish. He will be Rhoma Irama, not just Ripin Rhythm. Every time Mak would hug and a cuddle.

Until many years later, a dark reality that escapes understanding is that night, after his head hit the wall, Mak died. Another fact that does not know: a few days after the death of Madame, Dad's body was found floating in the river, with a hole in the chest and forehead, the bullet whiz named Peter's spooky.

Ripin never returned. ***

Lord's Shoes

A young sergeant was to prevent the suspect grabbed a small bag from the table when Lieutenant Sardi entered. Authority is hanging on the shoulders of a small fanfare Lieutenant halt in the interrogation room without the slightest effort is wasted. The Sergeant removed his grip, letting the suspect grabbed the bag and hugged it tightly. The situation under control.

Lieutenant Sardi sat quietly and stared ahead. A piece of her past now wad across the table, sitting in a chair as a self-conscious body of the suspect. Sardi recalled.
The suspect's friend. Used. Friend at the same time, secretly, adversaries.
In each game, they always help each other mutually. People know them as twin spearheads PS. Mountain of Light. Twin spearhead sharp.

The sergeant's report on the situation. Complained, more precisely. The suspect did not want to talk. Any way it seems to no avail. Sardi inquisitive look of his statement, look for the intent behind the statement "all means".
Being stared at like that, the Sergeant was embarrassed. He dared to ask for leave. Sardi simply asked, "Where?" to express his attitude. Bright intonation means that the question for the Sergeant. His request was rejected.
"Learn how I solve this case."

Sergeant motionless not far from the edge of the table, hide the disdain that meets the stomach. The sergeant was believed, the difference both as a cop just a matter in which the rank pinned. Arm and shoulder after all only separated the armpit, it is necessary not to be cocky.

Lieutenant Sardi can not feel this disdain, as all his subordinates keep the same attitude. That morning, he did not care, choosing drowned in the file notes in front of him.
Asan. Male. Married. Entrepreneurs. 29th year. 32, corrected Sardi secretly. 3 years was taken to a game tarkam sekota, 13 years ago. At that time, each participant must be younger than 18. He knows, because it was 3 years old was also taken from him.
Sardi look into the mirror at the side of the room at her own shadow, before returning to Asan. Maybe age work twice as cruel in Asan, he looks fragile and dry.

Most people would wonder how these people can seringkih have the power to do wickedness. Asan is the alleged killer Raman cross-eyed, big bookies this city. Small hand had smashed a stone into the neck Raman, poured gasoline, and burn victims. Visum believe that the victim had not died when the fire burning.
Sardi turned to the sergeant, asked what the contents of a suspect bag.
"Shoes ball, sir."

Sardi stared intently Sgt. The sergeant thought his boss was amazed, as he did earlier. But why Lieutenant Sardi smiling? Is the academy taught to cover up feelings of wonder with a smile?

Sardi remember those shoes. 13 years ago, before the soldiers knew, Raman squint just a village class airport. He is still getting his hands dirty for the election rubbing village heads or soccer game.
That afternoon, after the first match of the competition tarkam sekota, Raman came with two pairs of shoes. The first shoe, which is then used Sardi, actually quite good. Her skin was number one, strong seams, three white lines made him look handsome. Shoes Emperor Bekenbewer, Raman said.

"They make 74 German champions," said Raman. "Lu want?" Young Sardi nodded. Later, he regretted this decision for life.
Raman squint always had a story for everything. Including for shoe-shoe. The second shoe, which dihadiahkannya in Asan, had a more exciting story.
"Ever heard of the hand of God?"

Raman held his shoes into the hands of Asan. Her skin as number one, the stitches even. The difference is, the shoe is illustrated panther pounce. "Who's flying," Raman corrected. The story is not finished yet, still be more exciting.
Raman repeated the question really is not necessary. "Ever heard of the hand of God?" Asan sparkled, his mouth dropped unconscious. Sardi nodded many times.
"It's shoes."

Asan stared in disbelief shoes. Ordinary wear shoes that are torn shoes Sardi loans. One of the worst shoes of the owners' collections of firstborn coffee. Now he has his own shoes. Unmitigated, shoes God.

Sardi repeating what he heard from his father. Comments about how God's hand musyriknya nickname. "Hensbol Satan's hand." Sardi speak for herself. Asan busy scrutinize shoes, Asan scan Raman busy.

Throughout the competition tarkam sekota, a pair of twin spearheads of Mount Light rage, for extending the ideals high. 7 goals for the emperor's shoes, 13 for the shoes God. So too, Asan is enough to make one goal only. One that transcends all the goals combined in this competition.
In the quarter-finals, the Moun
tain of Light does not loosen the attack despite leading 1-0. In one attack scheme, the position of the players suddenly imitate Argentina scheme second goal in England's goal, a month earlier.

From the middle, Asan off alone. Two colleagues, including Sardi follow from the wing. Asan kept attacking. One player passes, then the other. The third player to think enough to play the position, but instead losing run. Memapasi fourth player, after leg, but Asan contort his body with magic. The fourth player is meant to imitate the flicker but instead lost his balance, flew. The fifth player blocking with high emotion, was defeated long before dealing with Asan. In front of the goalkeeper, Asan, with a tiger in his shoes who either jumped or flew, menyontekkan ball into the left corner. Asando Diego Maradona, 2-0, legend of our village.

A year after that goal, Sardi cursed himself. 7 goals and 5 bait mature, no one will remember. How? People only remember that the party's semi-finals, beating Mount Light Tunas Harapan 3-0. If only Asan semifinal play at the party, the story must be another. If only the previous night there was no krosboi passing motorists, if it had not sunk in Asan who Haji Sanusi pool.

Sardi could never forgive the defeat. Talent scout from the two teams galatama, to look bored in the semifinals of the party, crossed spears a twin pair of Mount Light from their records. A bad decision that resulted in Indonesia failed to champion the world.
Bury the ideals, Sardi register police academy. Still, it failed to bury a piece of suspicion. This suspicion was too convincing.

In the afternoon after Asan created a special goal, Raman came, specifically looking for Asan. Both speak in the corner, furtively. In that conversation, Asan face quickly changed from happy to be tense and anxious and scared.
In the evening, a knock at Sardi's bedroom window from outside. That beats Asan. A moment later, they crept through the night to the house Raman cross-eyed. At the end of the journey home, return the shoes Asan reason God did not also bright. Along the way Asan voiceless. The one time he spoke, only when they parted. It also does not explain the matter.

"I do not have shoes anymore."
Sardi promised to lend one of her shoes.
"The usual course." Sardi nodded.

Shoes were not so borrowed, because the next night hit Asan run. Handling bad hospital stop football career. Friendship both ends of the spear also subsided. Asan always avoid.
Shortly after his recovery and accept fate lame leg, Asan worked for Raman. More precisely, Raman came to offer a job. After that, 13 years of road rush, army changed the stakes Raman rich, but certainly not houseboy-assistant.
Asan was married, briefly. His wife ran off with a dangdut singer, not from the Asan who was disappointing since the first week, but from a little boy hyperactive result of their marriage. The boy is now Sardi's son's age. Both are now crazy about playing football.
13 years old, thought Lieutenant Sardi. Why so long?

Like the last 13 years, is now also Asan avoid. He looked down. They both sat facing each other, but there will be no one who can sniff out a soft hint that the two knew each other. Moreover, sniffed that they had passed on another occasion, before this. A week ago, on the edge of a soccer field, watching a game of two groups of boys, the two sat close together. No, no one could have guessed. No one will know, because even Sardi and Asan has promised to forget this encounter.

Opportunities, Sardi said to himself, answering his own question. That's why. Every grudge takes time. Of course, no doubt. Sardi have struggled with the criminals, he understood their basic character. Mistaken if they simply rely on looking at desperate vein. Tertangguh criminals are those most able to create opportunities. No, not just the opportunity to commit a crime. The most important is the opportunity to design it. Raman squint well aware of this.

Bookies were shrewd enough to take care of Asan, especially because he knew his crime, in turn, will be revealed. Raman tactical, if finally Asan found that the accident in the pool Haji Sanusi occurred at his command, strict control will prevent revenge Asan. Being in control means the opportunity to design Asan anything for themselves. Too narrow a narrow chance of courage. That's the recipe.

A good recipe, thought Lieutenant Sardi, but not necessarily effective. What if there was someone else, other events, which allows an opportunity is created. Raman squint could keep watching Asan, but he could not watch everything. He can not put all people into the pocket. He could try, but there are limits to the bag area.
Raman Sardi's face when he was surprised to find flames spreading over the skin. Does he have the opportunity to scream?

Asan sat with his head kept down. Is that his little friend had doubts? What he now regrets? He looked troubled. Yes, he should be sorry. Penyesalanlah distinguishes between himself and the kind of criminal Raman. What distinguishes us with him, Sardi said quietly. Running a chance could mean a traitor to the small hearts.
Small hearts, he knows a lot about this. Coffee business is not very good father when he registered at the police academy. In fact, the price so high a bribe bribed. Since then, his life spout. Maybe even since before. Since shoes Emperor received. Raman cross-eyed not get enough of bekingan army, he was also an opportunity to create between himself and a candidate for rookie of the Mountain of Light.

Raman cross-eyed and all the opportunities it created, all deserve to die. Sardi can not imagine how many people were saved, how many opportunities silenced crime.
Sardi smiled, concluded. There was no end to the most appropriate for a criminal to death at the hands other than his own gun. Two weapons that eat their own master. As if someone else thought of, it was not because most people tend to remember who makes goals. Sardi had made peace with himself. There was no harm done to give feedback. Moreover God Emperor was defeated in Mexico 86.
Lieutenant Sardi getting rid of the case before him. He turned to the sergeant, asked "I understand?"

The sergeant shook his head, amazed. What can be understood, learned? Since last Lieutenant Sardi just read.
"That's what makes you and me lieutenant sergeant. Motive, oppressed workers, cruel employers, labor revenge. Simple. It's not murder. This man is too cowardly for that."
"Gasoline, sir?"
"Read again his file."
"His shoes?"
"This is not a detective story. Unless you think so."
The sergeant shook his head, weak.

Lieutenant Sardi, carrying a small bag, walked casually into the parking lot toward his car. In the car, two boys smiled cheerfully welcomed. Little boy who sat in front, this is his son. 7-8 years he will rampant with the emperor's shoes. The boy who sat in the back, a new member of his family, stuck his tongue still calling him Uncle, not my father.
"This is from your father." His adopted son received the bag awkwardly, not daring to open it.

"What is it?" Said his own son, curious.
"Ever heard of the hand of God?"
Both of them shook his head.

Along the way, Lieutenant Sardi about the World Cup 86. One famous Maradona's goal is a combination of little work and a little head work hand of God, but that's not how. In the quarter-finals, Asan, friends, past five players before the bowed Peter Shilton. In the semifinals they defeated PS. Tunas Harapan 3-0. Never mind. Any ideals deserve a second chance, as Indonesia has the right world champion.
"The second goal was, is his shoes." ***

THERE"S SOMETHING IN MY HOUSE

Since i moved to this house everything become so boring and complicated in my life.
Water empty. Electric sometimes black out. If rains falling down, water come trough the walls and ceiling.

THE RAIN

February 12th. Rains falling down. never stop a whole day. it make flood in kampong pulo. jakarta now is wet and slippery. water everywhere..