Category: Creative Writings

Categories
Creative Writings Poem

A Perfect Day for Me

Wake up with things in the right place

Hear a clunk of stuff from downstairs

Sounds so busy I wonder

Turns out it is my lover

I realize, they just ran a marathon

Calling me over to eat some croutons

 

Their sweat, the kitchen mess, and the breakfast they baked

It clicks to me as my sleepiness fades

We eat some and hang out

Out for a date, just us two

Forgetting there are others in this world

Since my mind is enticed with the thought of being with you

 

Having our favorite lunch at our favorite place

Then out for some desserts and games

Strolling around the grocery aisle

Until suddenly, we’ve had heaps of items

That we unconsciously took for each other

Because we know what each other like

 

We get home and magically turn the groceries into dinner.

Just joking, we cook it, of course, together

And eat it, also together

As we play our music

And have a conversation that I cherish

 

That’s my perfect day

It’s filled with you

Because you sound romantic

You feel romantic

You that is yet to become my reality

 

But at least for now, I can picture it

How it went inside my film reel mind

With each minute, not being wasted

Waiting for this scene to be played

As it is, after all, my perfect day

Author: Gregorius Beryl S.S.

Editor: Siti Aminah Intan Utami, Ruth Tirza Arina (QC)

Illustrator: Ajeng Suci Hati

Categories
Creative Writings Flash Fiction

I Came, I Saw, I Would Conquer

/Song playing in the background/

*/Neath a faulted sky, cross loamless plains, and watered blight/

/Ah, were gone those days, once glory shone so brightly?/

/Fallen neath baleful wings dark as night/

Do you perceive the world the same as I do? The world in which we are able to control everything to our desire. Desire to live. Desire to survive.

Do you believe in miracles? Loads of burden on our shoulders, yet nature decides to be in our favor?

Life never comes at ease to every single all of us. I, myself, have never wanted to set foot in a dark, cramped, silent castle. Life knows no pain. Therein, I cry for its mercy. Life heeds no wailing, so there is no choice, but to stand on my own feet. 

“So, preliminary semester would be crucial, I suppose. The translations are not my strong point, but I have an interest in them. We’ll see if it pays a dividend.” I muttered

The first two and three months everything went smoothly until the future knocks at the door. I somehow thought of my future self. Somehow, I felt scared. Somehow it felt uneasy. I had always wanted to go with translation once my duty at the university is finally over. However, my thoughts were filled with uncertainty. It tickled me a lot. I had no choice, but to ponder what I would do in the future. This took a lot of months and energy and I was knackered, both mentally and physically.

The end of the semester was just around the corner. And I found myself right at the very sharp end. Squeezed by expectations and reality. Nothing good came out, except my faith in my work. I felt everything in my hands was loose. They plunge. They run. 

A conversation with myself was the only thing I ever needed. I do not need anyone. I need myself and just myself. So much pain to walk through what I want for people. No one seems to understand it. When the pandemic hit that year, I had already lost so many chances. Then came along with mentality problems making me worse every time.  Every single hour. I felt as if I was a mere doll rather than a human. I did nothing because I knew nothing. My current field offers a lot of possibilities, but I do not see myself being part of those possibilities. 

The eighth semester came and many months passed. My thesis’ progress seemed to be halted momentarily. I had to move fast. I had to think fast. I have always believed that I have to help myself. I do not want to rely on anyone. 

People come and go, figuratively. Many of my fellows had already graduated and passed the thesis defense, yet I am like a sitting duck hoping for some sort of change. And amidst uncertainty, a glimpse of light showers my face at the end of the tunnel. I regain my confidence A completely different new field it is.

This is the new path I have chosen. This is my new life. I am proud of who I am. That I am able to endure all predicaments. That I can stand on my own feet. I know nothing for sure, but I just need to push through. And I believe!

/song playing in the background/

*/I have always walked alone. When I looked back, everyone was far away/

/Even so, I kept walking. That was my strength/

/”I’m not afraid of anything anymore”, I muttered to myself/

/Everyone will be alone someday, living on in memories only/

/I fight so that I will be able to love and laugh despite  the loneliness/

/I won’t show my tears/

*: 1st song: Dragon’s Dogma Dark Arisen Main Theme

2nd song: Angel Beats Ending Song (Translated Lyrics)

 

 

Writer: Nanda Kresnantara

Editor: Baby Lois Augustine Nabasa & Fransiskus Nino Boby Laksono (QC)

Illustrator: Bedita

Categories
Creative Writings Poem

On Behalf of the Old Heaven

On behalf of the old Heaven,

I woke from a deep slumber.

I plunged into the freezing-flowing river.

I smelled the fragrance of the whitish walls, the brownish planks, and the greenish plants.

Tastes of the old heaven, for the last time. 

 

Bygone is the presence of guidance.

Bygone are the times of gleefulness.

Bygone is the archaic self-of-me.

Bygone are the heralds of great feasts.

Bygone is the old heaven.

 

Here I am, now, gazing into the new void.

Uncoloured, with a splash of cold, jagged aura surging. 

Unknowns of grand-scale looming.

Time sides with its own ending.

I see neither comfort nor heaven.

 

Here, the safe rectangle of despondency.

Here, I rest my old beings.

Here, a reverie of I, flourish.

Still, the fragments of old heaven stand tall.

I remember, and will always remember. 

On behalf of the old heaven

I will craft a new heaven. 

I will smear anew the void.

Woe to the thoughts that belittle me.

For I will, on behalf of the new heaven, walk with valour.

Author: Abiel Merari / 214214177

Editor: Desca Geovani Kristi, Cherry Larissa Hendranata (QC)

Illustrator: Betsy Mariana Agoha

Categories
Creative Writings Flash Fiction

Over Dinner

“Uni’s been great, right?” 

General Sheltron had meant it as a mere small talk starter, between unpacking the take-out food to the plates. But to his surprise, Aster’s eyes and voice light up. “Dad, how could it not?!”

The occasional stutters and pauses to admire the meal did little to stop his excited chatter. The university pleases Aster, very much, and the boy is eager to go about life there. The club activities he might do (“They have a band, Dad!”); then the lessons he is to study－in this semester, in the semesters to come (“Third-year students might do an internship at a company’s lab－won’t Mama like the sound of that?”); the interactive moonbeam hologram presenters in his classes (“The molecule models would float about us－and we can tweak it with a simple wave－no goggles necessary!”)

The old general’s amusement increases at how Aster is even eager about the compulsory classes. “The lecturer’s nice, so that’s a plus point－and the lesson’s actually interesting－if you can pay attention long enough. But I think my friends already knew all about them when they were in high school…”

My little star, his mother had mused, adoration seeping through each word. He never failed to cheer me up－there’s always something exciting in his world. 

The three of them had been touring the General’s ship. They lingered in the steering room, and the crew were laughing at Aster’s little pun. General Sheltron hadn’t known how to respond, was still reeling at meeting the boy for the first time two hours earlier. He did suppose that his son was given a fitting name, or Aster himself had lived up to the meaning. 

Now the boy is quiet, chewing his dinner before speaking again, “There are so many fun things to do and try, I’m not even sure I’ll be able to do all that.”

General Sheltron smiles, “But you want to do them all?”

Aster’s eyes light up again, fingers snapping in agreement. “That’s the point!” he exclaims. “Sometimes I’ll think, maybe next year there’ll be another seminar or something. But at the same time, the other side would pester me, like what if there’s no other opportunity? And if there is, what if you won’t have time later?”

“Well, surely some will be more beneficial or interesting to you than the rest, Aster,” says the General. “Don’t want to be mopping in some miserable obligation, don’t we?”

“No, indeed,” Aster grins. “I’ll stress the neurons out of my brain trying to fulfill everything well.”

“Well then!” The boy chuckles at his father’s words.

“Of course, you’ll have greater worries and concerns at your age,” the General continues softly. “You can’t help it. But I’d prefer if you choose to do things responsibly.”

“Mama said the same thing,” Aster pipes. His tone is musing, yet far too lilting with the amused glint in his eyes.

“Well, I know she didn’t raise a brash young man,” General Sheltron retorts before he can overthink the allusion.

 “No, sir.” 

“You mind your studies well. Don’t worry about anything else－ money or food or lodging. Your mother made me swear I’ll provide for you, and I will.”

“You have, Dad. A great deal,” Aster acknowledges kindly.

“That’s why. Enjoy yourself, and gather your skills. You’ll survive the workforce well enough with those.”

Aster swallows then raise his right hand in a proper salute. “Yes, General Sir!”

“At ease, Corporal. Well, listen to me. An old geezer with his advice,” the General chuckles, turning to pick up the puddings set aside on the counter. 

“I don’t mind. I’m still a duckling to this world, looking for guidance.” There’s a pause as Aster chews his food, an intent look in his eyes. Then he leans forward, and says, “It’s not like you’re half a century old, Dad.”

His father stills, and his gaze turns sharp. Aster, being the little tease who knew he hit his mark, begins to snicker. General Sheltron is no old rickety officer, being in his late forties. Still, it is enough a gap between his comrades for them to tease him relentlessly.

“You should stop seeing your uncles,” the General sighs. Aster only laughs louder.

Author: Ruth Tirza Arina / 224214046

Editor: Cynthia Olga Handoko, Cherry Larissa Hendranata (QC)

Illustrator: Ajeng Suci Hati

Categories
Creative Writings Flash Fiction

The Crescent Moon

It’s sunny outside, perfectly perfect weather to go on a picnic. She drives herself to a land full of white sands, a land where the waves excitedly greet her from the farthest horizon, a land where hermit crabs hide. She drives herself to a land where her dad is welcomed and peacefully rested. 

Taking out the carpet, she sits down, facing a rounded black-and-blue birthday cake with 18 candles.

“Dada, your little girl now meets friends in college, starts to have a crush on one of her classmates, stays up late at night doing homework, and is stressed about grades. Changes still feel awkward for me after you left. Often at night, when my day isn’t going well, I cry. But Dada, you know? Neither your fingers through my face nor your arms surrounding me, it is the pillow that holds my tears, it is my blanket that embraces me,” she whispers through the wind.

“I’m no longer a little girl, but I still need you day after day.” 

The candles have gone out, and tears are running down her cheeks.

I watch her from a distance. The last time I saw her clothed in tears was just a month ago. She was covered in black and hugged the frame of her father tight.

“Carla! Watch out! The waves are chasing after you, baby.”

“Vruhh,” she’s late. The waves had already kissed her knees, and she was losing balance, falling and kneeling on the sand. 

“Oh NO, Dada, please help me! I can’t get myself up. I’m stuck and covered in sand.”

A six-foot man in a light blue T-shirt rushed to approach and lift her daughter. Everyone could tell that he was a good father. You could never see his eyes while talking to his five-year-old daughter. His blonde hair was shining well under the sunlight. He carried Carla on his shoulder and ran to chase the wind. From afar, you could see that Carla also has a half-moon shape in her eyes while smiling. It’s probably passed down from her dad. Many would name it eye smile, a phenomenon of your eyes that would form an adorable crescent moon shape while smiling.

I smelled her happiness spread like a fragrance in the air that day. However, today, sadness goes really far and leaves a hole in her heart. I can’t stand this, so I do some magic for her. I let her see the scene from 13 years ago when she and her dad had a lot of fun in this place.

If you wonder how I may use my magic, here’s the secret—a leaf. I let one of my leaves flies onto her lap, transferring her to that moment. 

“Daddy, is that you?!” Carla is surprised to see her father. She tries to reach her father’s hand, but she can’t.  

“Hi, sweetie, how are you doing? I miss you a lot. I wonder if you have already forgotten me. But I know you will come to visit me one day, just like what you did today. Dear, life may not go as you wish, but just like the sun that rises every day, like the waves that would come endlessly, like footprints that will always follow your steps, my love would never let you be alone. Goodbye may never be easy. I trust and believe that I have already given my all to you. Now that you can survive in this world, I am proud of you,” her dad talks in silence, but Carla can listen to it clearly.

Shedding in tears, she replies. “Dad, it felt like you were going away and leaving me all alone. I am scared of changes. Just thinking I must go on my own. I am not confident yet without you by my side. I struggle more than I ever imagine. Thank you for letting me know that you would never let me go through my life alone. I wish you would always be there, just like my footprints. When I have new semesters, meet new classmates, and face a new society, I would challenge myself to be braver.”

“That’s my baby, Carla. You are doing great and always would. Dear, it’s time for you to live your dream. Though this pandemic can take me away from you, never let it take away your dream. Fight against it, and be ready to open a new chapter. It might be completely new and feels unfamiliar at first. Trust me. It may help and let you step out of your comfort zone. Child, here comes the time for you to let me go. This is the first chapter you need to close,” Carla feels her dad’s hand reaching hers this time, begging her. 

“When I see you later, I promise to tell you my exciting story, Dad! I promise to make you proud of me” Carla prepares her heart, and this time, she can let her father’s hand go.

“There’s a time when you must be brave and keep moving on in life.” I write so on a leaf and fly it once more onto Carla’s lap. As soon as she read it, I could finally see the crescent moon in her eyes.  

The End

Author: Fernisya Abellya / 214214025

Editor: Arih Oviana Putri Kusuma, Fransiskus Nino Boby Laksono (QC)

Illustrator: Maria Angelica Chrysanti

Categories
Creative Writings Flash Fiction

On a Train to Heaven

On his way to Shinto, a little boy looks at the window. “It’s a beautiful night with a starry sky” he whispers slowly. “Yes darling, the moon smiles so brightly tonight,”  a woman replies while seeing a rainbow.

One fine day, he learns about the anecdote. The young man feels no need to gloat, so he gets bored. His mom flips the pages and shows him a picture. “Look, I’ve told you red suits well,” he compliments that amazing coat.  “Yes darling, this is an amazing red coat” she replies while seeing the blue one.

Some men are checking if she is doing well, as she is all alone. I step closer and ask them not to bother that woman. They could not see what I saw.

“Mom, I’ll touch the sky to feel the wind. I’ll put the glasses off just to see the sunshine. I’ll take my clothes off just to be washed by the rain. I just wanna be seen and see, I wanna be touched and feel.” It’s midnight already, and I heard the young man cry.

Ah, now I know what dreams can be shown to him.  Dream without eyes. Dream without sight.  His dream is just imagination.  At least, it is what a dream is called to a blind young man.

“Son, I’ll run over without slippers to meet you on the other side of the world.  I’ll climb the highest building just to see you in person. And I’ll swim the deepest ocean if I can hug you there. I just miss you, a lot.” Still in the middle of the night, and I heard the woman cry.

Ah, now I know what dream can be shown to her. A dream that isn’t limited to death. A dream that overcomes fear. Her dream is just imagination. But at least, it is what dream is called to a mom who has lost his only boy.

That night, I sat by her side and held her hands.  I stared at her and her eyes met mine. I saw through her heart. It’s dark, full of condolences.  She got a boy who is blind and short, so she told me, “It’s better so”. And I replied, “That’s okay, I already knew.”

She didn’t even have to ask whether I saw him or not.  One thing she’s being sure of is, I got to know her in the world of silence. “Yes, I can see your past, also dead,” she cried as I told her.

I took that book from her, opened another page, and read something there, “It’s never been an easy path to live if you can’t let your past go. I would say that your life is trapped, and day by day your scars are getting worse. You blame yourself for your loss, and that’s why you can’t go through it. You can’t make it to the present without doubting yourself.”

“Do I have any right to live happily? Ah, no. Do I even have any right to be alive? To live in this universe?” I could see such questions in her mind, so I told her, “You have felt guilty enough.”

“It’s never been an easy path to live if you can’t choose between the present or the past. Your lovely ones were there in the past. But you are now fighting alone in this cruel present. I understand if it’s never been an easy way to cross. But don’t live in the past. Your life has no meaning when you keep thinking about the past. Your spirit is gone because you can’t put the past behind. It is stopping you from living as your heart wants.” I continued.

“I know you are hurt. And you are hurt, that’s why you feel alive. I know it’s torturing but that’s when you feel alive the most. I know. But another thing I know that you don’t is that you lived by millions of little miracles. While God took your son from an accident, you survived, and you’re doing well. Count that million little miracles and you will understand. Why does God keep pouring you with His love? You live because you’ve been carried by grace.”

As I finished my words, she wiped the tears on her face and stopped crying. I stopped the train later while giving her that dream, a happy day in a wonderland with her little boy. It’s the only way that she can get off the train without being buried in guiltiness. 

That’s how I ask humans to go back when it’s not their time. They aren’t being called home yet. That’s why she should make that decision and leave the train. She won’t be accepted at heaven’s gate though. She is supposed to go back, and happily live her life in the present.

The end.

Author : Fernisya Abellya / 214214025

Editor: Fransiskus Nino, Cynthia Olga Handoko (QC)

Illustrator: Maria Angelica Chrysanti


Categories
Creative Writings Poem

The Corner of December

Here I come to the corner of December

With hope in every step that brought me closer

Existing in this huge universe

Doesn’t always attract everything for which I think I deserve

Little irreplaceable things keep me alive

Arranging every moment like an archive

From capturing the scenery of evening skies

To seeing the loved ones feel the delights

Those little things turn into a sincere reason

to exist longer all of a sudden

 

Author : Ruth Maura Pamesa Nurmalita / 204214033

Editor: Desca Geovani Kristi, Cherry Larissa Hendranata (QC)

Illustrator: Bedita Marsela

 
Categories
Creative Writings Flash Fiction

Rosa Mystica

Shuvarnabumi Airport, Wednesday 27 September 2021, 19.47 Bangkok Time.
It was rainy outside. The lights outside were glowing, not bright, subdued by the heavy water directly fell from the dark sky. The airport deserted. Only few people were there. Pandemic had crushed the airline business to its core. I remembered two years ago when I visited this country, when the pandemic hadn’t ravaged the world, the Shuvarnabhumi was one of the busiest airport in the world. Bangkok was one of Asia’s travel hub, connecting the world with Asia’s cities.

I looked around, and my eyes stumbled upon a girl sitting in Starbuck cafe, her eyes glued to her cellphone, a plastic cup of coffee on the table. It’s already half-empty. Or, half full. That’s a matter of perspective. The distance between where I sat and Starbuck was not very far. Around 200 meter. I looked at my watch. 19.50 Bangkok time. I looked up, and to my surprise, the girl was now looking at me. I was taken aback. Never did I expect that she was also staring at me. Perhaps she also tried to find other fellow human beings in this deserted airport.

I was not sure whether I should nod and smile, or just looked away. I nodded. And smiled. She smiled back. The girl wore a denim jacket and trousers with a pair of black heels. Her hair was shiny black, which she ponytailed. I approached her.
“Is the seat taken?”
“ Please,” she drew her plastice cup nearer to her.
“Thank you,” I replied. “Waiting for someone?”
“Yes, he should arrive at any moment now.”
He. Male. So, perhaps she’s waiting for her boyfriend or her husband. Boyfriend, I guessed. She’s just in her early 30s, I estimated. Nobody in their right mind would marry in 30s. It’s too young. Marriage was something serious. It took a lot of considerations and thoughts to get married. 30 was too early.
“Your boyfriend?”
“No! I am waiting for my father. He promised me to see me in Bangkok. We haven’t met for almost ten years.”
“Oh, where is he from?”
“Jakarta, Indonesia.”
“The plane from Jakarta has landed several minutes ago. I am from Jakarta, too. He must’ve been here.”
“Yes, I know. That’s why I am here.”
“So, he will meet you here?”
“Yes, Dad. I’m your daughter. Don’t you recognize me?”
I was silent. I looked at her again. Closely. I saw her rosary necklace around her neck. A rosary necklace I specially made for her with Rosa Mystica inscription engraved on its crucifix pendant. Yes, she’s my daughter. My daughter who died ten years ago in a traffic accident in Bangkok on her way to college, just a week before her birthday on which I promised to see her. An eerie realization suddenly engulfed me. I heard a commotion nearby and saw four paramedics in a hurry pushed a cart with a man lying there. I overheard some airline crew members described what happened during the flight to the paramedics. “He’s got a heart attack on the plane, we have tried CPR, but….”
I looked at the girl. She smiled, “Come, Dad! I missed you so much!”
She took my hand, and we walked out of the Shuvarnabumi Airport into the heavy rain.

Author: Harris Hermansyah Setiajid 

@beerholder

Illustrator: Betsy Mariana Agoha


Categories
Creative Writings Flash Fiction

Graduation Day

I saw her today on graduation day, with her family, but I was okay. Because I saw the way she looked at them. A smile on her face, one that I’ve never seen before. Though I could only watch her from afar, I can see her talking with the people who made her happy.

For a moment, my memory of being with her on the night before graduation day suddenly popped up. It was after the graduation rehearsal had finished. We were walking side by side to the campus’ parking lot as best friends, hoping that I could drive her to her boarding house on time. Among the dim yellow street lights and neatly arranged rows of cars, I turned my gaze to her. She looked tired.

“Is everything okay?” I asked her.

She didn’t answer, remaining silent for a while as she usually does. Her face looked gloomy. A few seconds passed by, she stopped walking as if there was a burden that made her stop. “There is something that I need to tell you, George.” She warmly looked into my eyes.

“What is it, Emily?” I replied. 

“This may sound sudden for you, but I think you should know this earlier,” she said with a soft voice. “By the time the graduation ends, I will have to go back to Jakarta for a long time.”

There was an awkward silence that passed between us. 

I tried to stay calm and asked, “Until when?” 

She smiled at me. “I honestly don’t know.” 

The air felt heavier than before, and I knew that she was telling the truth. “If you have anything that you want to say to me, just say it. Because I know that you and I won’t be the same person anymore, like many other good friends,” she said. 

“How about you say it first?” I slowly approached her, leaning my back against the back of my car. “It would be nice for me to be a listener for my busy best friend.” 

She laughed a little, freeing up a small burden inside her, which made her face look a little bit happier. “I’ve done it before, George, many times,” she replied. “It’s nice to have a friend like you. Whenever I have something to be said, to be let out, you always make time for me and ask if I’m okay or not. Like you just did.”  

“Well, I guess you won’t find someone like me again.” 

“Yup, you can say that.” She took a deep breath, tightly holding my shoulder. “It’s you, George. It’s always been you.” 

The clouds began to clear and the moon is shining through. The wind was starting to feel cold. I looked up to the night sky, along with my words flowing, “I still don’t believe that this is our last night before we become adults. All we wanted to do was to grow up. But now, all we want is to be the little kids looking at the moon without a thing to worry about.” 

She followed my gaze to the night sky. “At least we can still see it the same way,” she said with a faint smile. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” 

I slowly looked at her in wonder. “Yes, the moon is beautiful.” 

One second passed. We stood side by side in silence. 

“Have you ever met someone who is like the moon?” she asked, randomly.

“Yes, I have,” I answered her. “She’s quite close to me. She’s beautiful both inside and outside, but I’ve never had the guts to say that to her.” 

Emily didn’t say a thing, being a good listener as she is.

I continued my words, “As time went by, we become closer and closer. There was this one moment, when we were talking in a food stall until midnight, but neither of us thought that time would go so fast. And when we decided to leave, we waved at each other. I got in the car, watching her fade away slowly. Then, I felt something was missing.” 

“Just like that?” she asked. 

“Yup, just like that,” I said, looking at her, warmly. “Because sometimes when you meet someone for the first time, you hardly pay any attention to them. You may not even really be attracted to this person, but as soon as you get to know them, you notice yourself slowly falling for them. This person that was once average to you, has quickly become the most beautiful person in the world and perhaps the most important. It’s funny. You never saw that coming, and that’s love for me.”

She thought about that for a while and asked, “Will she come tomorrow at the graduation?” 

I nodded. “And I’ll be there when she graduates, cheering the loudest.” 

She replied with a genuine smile, making the night even longer. 

My thoughts were interrupted when I heard her name being called. She walked up to the podium, doing the graduation tradition. As she faced the audience, I stood up. Cheering her as loud as I could even though she still didn’t realize it. Then, she got off the podium and walked to her seat. For a split second, she smiled again. Maybe not at me, but she’s still smiling. As long as she’s happy, I’ll be okay.

 

Journalist: Vincentius Rhesa

Editor: Cynthia Olga Handoko, Cherry Larissa Hendranata (QC)

Illustrator: Ajeng Suci Hati