Category: Flash Fiction

Categories
Creative Writings Flash Fiction

The Life of the Cattle

 

 

Today is a beautiful day. Nice weather, but I questioned, is it beautiful because of the weather or the event that happened in my life lately that makes my day wonderful?

As a hardworking man, my efforts are finally paid off. I get the chance to leave the countryside because my job promotion takes me and my fiancée moving to town. I imagine a nice urban area where a life of dreams and success usually resides. It’s nice and also sad to leave this place. I will miss the fresh air once I get in town.

Thanks to the promotion, my family and I are making a celebration of my success. We’re having dinner tonight. I let them choose the menu. They chose my favorite: beefsteak. I volunteered to buy the meat. I choose to buy it from the farm ‘cause I think it will be fresher.

Once I get there, I meet a very nice old man who happens to be a farmer. He warmly greets me and shows me a bunch of cattle grazing in the field. He tells me to choose which one would be my dinner. I choose a big ox which I think will be sufficient for my family members. I point at my pick, and the farmer tells me to wait for the butcher to slaughter the ox.

The farmer leaves me alone with the ox I picked and calls the butcher. While waiting, I take a look carefully at the ox. I look him in the eyes. I wonder if he senses anything, any sign of death, slaughter, beheading, or what will happen to him later.

A part of me pities him a little bit, and the rest is “I can’t wait for what a lovely dinner he can be”. I feel guilty. I do feel bad for him. I really do. I will save him if there is anything I can do, but I suppose my will isn’t big enough to cancel the dinner that I’ve been planning.

The butcher takes the machete and walks closer to the ox. The butcher stretches his arm to enable him swinging his hand strongly without spraining his arm. The ox sees the butcher but has no idea if he will be slaughtered after this.

I wonder if he knows that he is going to die, will he choose to run? Or he does know but won’t run because he’s prepared for this time? The butcher gets ready to swing the machete to his head, yet he still has no clue.

One big swing tears his skin. Blood runs from his neck slowly at first, but the butcher keeps swinging the machete to his head, and the stream of blood runs faster as time goes by. I supposed the faster the blood runs, the lesser the pain. I can see his consciousness slowly disappear.

Here he is, lying on the ground, dead. His head is no longer being a part of his body. I recall that a moment ago, he still had grass for his meal. I feel relieved that at least he isn’t murdered with an empty stomach. Now he is ready to be chopped into smaller pieces so it will be easy to carry home or to cook.

For a moment I feel sad and numb. Maybe it’s because I look at him in the eye right before his death.

I find myself staring at his lifeless flesh. It tells me enough of his life that since he was born, the majority of his days were spent grazing a lot; just eating, eating, and eating. When he is old enough, he will be slaughtered. What a mundane life, I think. What if he knows the purpose of his life is just like this? Would he choose not to be born in the first place? But who am I to think it is meaningless?

At least he doesn’t seem to regret any.

I guess I have got to see mine. In some ways, my life is no different than his. I have spent my life arranging the plan to achieve the future I wish I would have, in the hope that I will finally have excitement in this life, but I forget to live in the present. I work and work and work harder, but to get what actually?

I used to think that the cattle’s life was really dull, but I realize that I just don’t understand the meaning of the beauty of life that we, humans, think is without any purpose. Maybe it’s better if I can just live my life.

—I fall too deep into my thoughts and lose track of time. I didn’t realize how fast time has passed. As if it isjust like a minute ago, I see full-grown cattle grazing. Now I see an old farmer carrying a bunch of small sacks of a disfigured cattle body, walking towards my direction.

“What’s the occasion, mate?” the farmer asks.

“Nothing special. We just want a nice dinner, that’s all.” A moment ago, I was prepared to answer this question to brag a little bit about the promotion. Now, I’m not so sure whether it is special anymore.

I then gesture to where I park my truck to hint to the farmer where to put my order. He nods and then carries the sack one by one into it. Once it’s all set, I’m ready to go.

I drive my truck all the way back from the farm, smoking a cigarette with a window open. The wind blows to my face as I playfully hum a song.  I, once again, immerse myself in thoughts.

“Where should I go next?”

Writer: Valentina Pascalia

Editor: Desca Geovani Kristi, Vonna Meisya Saputra (QC)

Illustration: Betsy Mariana Agoha

Categories
Creative Writings Flash Fiction

Sungu and His Given Tasks Part. 1

 

 

The story I am about to tell you is a tale of tragedy. 

A wise man once said that there is a thin line between loving and obsessing over someone. To this day, we still can’t figure out the difference between the two. I have seen too many people become insane because of love. A pure white-as-milk love became tainted with an obscure purple-as-Hyacinthus obsession.

How do you know if your love is pure or not? Unfortunately, I don’t have an accurate answer to that question. But, I think we could learn one or two things from Sungu’s story as he tried to prove how strong and deep his love was by doing tasks given by two mighty deities.

 ⸺⸺⸺○⸺⸺⸺

Once upon a time, in a faraway land called Batu Atos, lived a farmer named Sungu. Sungu lived alone in his poorly-made shack. He remained celibate even though he was about to hit 30. He might not be as handsome as a raden, but he knew his rugged looks wooed a few women a handful of times. He never spared a glance at those women because he wasn’t interested in any of them. The only thing they wanted was a quick fling. He wanted the real deal; true and everlasting love with a woman he truly adores.

Sungu stood barefoot in the muddy paddy field in the middle of the night, carrying a small bucket alongside him. The cold night air didn’t stop his courage to collect eels for tomorrow’s breakfast. Beneath his wet feet, he could feel the silver coins that were thrown by people who still believed in the tradition of throwing coins into the rice field to make their wishes come true.

Batu Atos was an old, small, and remote land. Traditions and myths were still going strong even if the land was already a thousand years old. The people who lived there believed in gods—deities who ruled over the earth, gods and goddesses who resided in the vast skies, spirits living in bodies of water, and many other powerful supernatural beings residing in the expanse of nature. A source told me that the land used to sink eons ago. But because of the goddess of the sea’s powerful rage that wrecked the ocean worldwide, the land resurfaced again. Another one was about a man who got abducted, never to be seen again, by the God of Boar because he tried to marry one of the sacred seven female boars.

Sungu was not a religious man, but he still attended a weekly prayer at the Nyi Ketan Ireng’s temple near the volcanic mount of Jengger once in a while. After all, he didn’t want the other neighbors to think poorly of him. It didn’t mean that he started to believe in deities and myths. That was about to change when a beautiful woman came into his life. Her name was Mangga Ranum. 

One day, while working with the other farmers, he heard the news about a beautiful great-granddaughter of a high-caste family from another land. She was to accompany her raden brother for a diplomatic matter at Batu Atos. What Sungu did not expect was how he fell in love with Mangga Ranum in such a religious place, which was ironic since he was not a religious person. 

He met her during the weekly prayer at Nyi Ketan Ireng’s temple. Her hair, darker than the midnight sky, was styled in a tight bun framed with a hair net made of jasmine flowers. She wore a traditional kemben, revealing her tan-as-longkong skin. Mangga Ranum’s beauty was otherworldly. Sungu even believed the volcano lava would never be as warm as Mangga Ranum’s smile. He knew every man in the temple also had the same thought as him. It was disrespectful of him to think of a woman that way in a sacred place, but he couldn’t help but admire her. He was only a man, after all.

The thought of Mangga Ranum’s beauty occupied his mind and dreams all the time after that day.

Sungu threw the last of the eels into the bucket. Inside, the eels were squirming around. He had to kill and clean the eels tonight, but his mind was distracted. The full moon above reminds him of Mangga Ranum’s round cheeks as she smiled the other day. He was sure his meeting with Mangga Ranum in a sacred place must had meant something. This was the time when Sungu started to have faith in deities.  He might be a peasant, but he knew he could win the heart of Mangga Ranum to get the perfect love he always dreamed of.

Sungu carried his legs through the muddy rice field. He started to run, but his slippery legs couldn’t support him. The bucket, full of eels that he tried to catch all night, scattered on the ground, squirming away as he fell. Sungu didn’t care. He stood and got back on running towards his shack.

He scrubbed the mud off of his body with clean water. He wore his best white clothes, even fancier than the ones he usually used for the weekly prayer. His kitchen didn’t have many foods, but he had a bunch of bananas and ripe mangos. Then, he went to his small shed to get a sack full of the best rice he had harvested. Plates, bowls, and four remaining candles he had left were placed inside his satchel.

In the small temple near his shack, he began to place the offerings on the plates and bowls. With the rice, Sungu started to draw a circle while chanting one or two traditional prayer songs he remembered. He set down the candles near the bananas and mangos as the final preparations.

As he knelt, he lifted his arms and said, “Hear me out, O mighty Mother Earth and thunderous Father of the Sky! One day the girl I love will love me back and we will live happily ever after!”

The earth grumbled and began to crack. Sungu winced as the temple’s roof began to fall upon his head. The Mountain spat out little bits of its molten lava. The trees seemed to move their roots. Up in the sky, the sky darkened. The clouds gathered around the temple, casting an enormous shadow over the temple. The rumbling of thunder shook the place. The strong winds flicked off the candles and knocked them down. Sungu screamed out loud as lightning struck down, almost blinding him.

When he opened his eyes, there stood in front of him were Mother Earth and the Father of the Sky themselves. His mouth gaped in reverence at the sight of the two deities. Around him, things that were flung across because of the winds were magically put back in place. Even the rice circle looked as if it was untouched.

Sungu hurriedly stood up and corrected himself. He knelt immediately before them, “

Please forgive your humble servant for this act of treason, O ruler of the sky, earth, and everything between,” he said.

The sky became thunderous when the Father of Sky began to talk,“Fear not, dear child. We are here because of your prayer.”

“We are interested in your tonight’s prayer.” The voice of Mother Earth reminded Sungu of a bird’s melodious chirp at the peak of dawn. “Love is an interesting thing, is it not?” she winked.

Sungu could only nod his head. His head was still working on the fact the most powerful deities had heard his prayer and stood before him. The Mother of Earth’s long-winded dark hair swept the floor and was frazzled like a tree’s roots. Right beside her, the night sky seemed to paint the Father of Sky. His grey beard seemed to move like clouds, swaying in a hypnotizing manner.

“I apologize for my inappropriateness again, but why are you here, O Mother Earth and Father of the Skies?” Sungu asked.

“We are here to grant your wish, dear child!” the Father of Sky boomed.

“Only if you’re willing to do the tasks we will give to you,” Mother Earth added, “Everyone deserves a chance to fall in love, don’t you agree?”

That caught Sungu’s attention, of course. Maybe there were reasons why Mother Earth and the Father of the Skies heard his prayer. Why would they listen to a poor low-caste farmer like him anyway, if they didn’t think of him as someone worthy of love? He nodded his head enthusiastically, “Without a doubt, I will do anything you ask of me. For my love, I shall do whatever it takes.”

Sungu’s fate was sealed that night. What a poor unfortunate soul.

To be continued.

 

Writer: Kenar Syalaisha Kanayana

Editor: Nanda Pratama Putera Tomasila & Vonna Meisya Saputra

Illustrator: Kenar Syalaisha Kanayan

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
Flash Fiction

White Box

I live in a white box, surrounded by nothing in it. I do not see anything, I do not hear anything, and I speak nothing. Everything in this box is pure, halcyon, serene, and empty. I keep walking, and walking, and walking mindlessly. My mind is blank, like a white canvas that is untouched by an artist, like a poet who lost words, like a child who loses their imagination. I keep walking without thinking about anything. However, my legs do not tire, my body feels nothing. It feels like they are numb even when I regained consciousness.

The longer I walk, the longer I think, the longer I realize. What am I? Why am I here? What is my purpose? I keep asking questions that nobody can answer. Nobody? What is a “body”? Is there any other “body” except mine in this world? I keep asking myself questions that I cannot comprehend.

The longer I walk the longer I am lost in my thoughts. I become self-aware of my questions. I keep saying new words that I do not know. Happiness, sadness, anger, fear, joy, person, existence. What is that? Am I a person? Am I truly alive? I can’t understand anything.

The longer I walk, the longer I am drowned in the sea of thoughts, my legs become numb, my body feels exhausted, my mind feels overloaded, and my soul fatigued. “Am I alive?” “Why am I here?” “What is my purpose?” I keep repeating the questions. I don’t know anything. My head becomes a mess.

From walking, I begin running, looking for a reason behind my existence. I keep running, looking to my right and leave only to see a barren land of absolute white. I keep repeating my question, “Where am I?” “What am I?” “Why do I exist?” while I run.

I run and run until my body can’t take it anymore. Then, I scream, in anguish. That is the first sound that I make. At that moment, I somehow felt joy. Like a kid receiving candy, like a son drawing his parents in stickman form, like a person who’s finally got a job. I scream and scream again; feeling accomplished by nothing.

I begin to run again. At that moment, I begin to try something that I would not do: launching myself with my knees, opening my eyelids and closing them again and again, clenching nothing but air with my hands, breathing, and laying on the land that is filled with nothing but the color of white. At that moment, I felt serenity in my heart.

I begin to run again. I begin to realize that there is something in me, something that I could do. Not just thinking and walking mindlessly, I found something that makes me feel like a person even if I don’t understand that concept completely.

I kept running and running until I bumped into something. I fall to my knees and wonder what’s stopping me. I swing my hand around and I feel something solid in front of me. I guess this is the end of this box. I can’t push my way on the solid object. Yet again, I do something that I don’t do. I swing my leg on the solid object that is in front of me. A loud thud can be heard. However, my leg is in pain. It was so painful that I had to crouch and wince.

However, I begin to realize that there is a dent in the spot where I kick the unknown solid object. I begin to swing my arm as hard as I can on the dent that I made. It works, there’s another dent. Thus, I punch it again, and again, and again, continuously, repeatedly. Until a fluid came out of my hand. The fluid has an unknown color. However, it is not white. 

My hand feels in pain. I want to stop, I really do. I want to stop and stay here. I don’t want to feel pain anymore. But I had to. I want to experience new stuff that I cannot experience, to feel alive, so that I can understand why I am here, and what my existence is for. I begin to punch the dents that I make yet again; I am filled with determination.

The object cracked. I see a bright light beneath that crack. I feel hope, a new feeling that I experience. I felt accomplished once again so I kept punching the object repeatedly until it was falling apart. The object crumbles. The wall and floor around me also crumbles. I quickly realized that there was no going back. This is the choice I made.

There I see a light and I feel like it’s pulling me. I accept the light and I am floating toward the light.

The light blinds me. And suddenly I am in a patch of grass, looking down at my feet. I didn’t know that the grass was ticklish around my feet. Then I began to look up, I saw dazzling scenery. I saw a field full of flowers. Some flowers were dancing with the wind. The sky looks so vibrant accompanied by small streaks of clouds.

I didn’t regret leaving the white box. I feel alive just by the scenery. I want to explore the field to see how beautiful the world is.

 

Writer: M. Walin Geonte

Editor: Vivi Julianti & Cherry Larissa Hendranata (QC)

Illustrator: Ariel Harpa

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 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

Categories
Flash Fiction

One Day In My Life

Unforgettable. The thing that I’m going to tell you really is the one I couldn’t ever forget.

One day, I was walking back and forth in the hall waiting for the bell to ring. I was nervous and afraid. On that day, the whole class would be having lunch together but I only brought an empty lunch box. I was afraid that Mrs Johnson would scold me in front of the class. That morning, I did not have my breakfast. I could not help my family by working since I was only 10. So, I did what I could do and that was to eat once a day. My mother, who was working for US$10 an hour at McDonald’s, was struggling to pay for my father’s medications. Not only that, she also had to pay for me and brother’s school fees. I did not notice how long I got worried and then the bell rang and it was time for the first class to start.

When the class started, I couldn’t help but think about eating some bread. I was very hungry. But then I remembered that at the corner of Orchard Road and Scott Road, there was a Mrs Field’s*. I thought to myself, ‘During recess, I’m gonna go there. Who knows they will be giving away samples and I’m gonna get some shares then I’ll be full by the time I get back!’

When the bell of the recess rang, I immediately went out of the classroom and left the school area. I got only twenty minutes so I ran as fast as I could to the corner of Orchard Road and Scott Road. It took me five minutes to get there and I was right! I saw the owner of the bakery was giving away samples in her store.

On purpose, I walked carefully in front of the store, pretending that I was interested. With a big smile, I asked the nice lady, “May I have this?” The lady smiled and gave it away to me with pleasure. She said, “Sure! Please take it!” to which I replied, “Thank you!”

The cookie tasted very yummy! It was a mini cookie but I liked Mrs Field’s and I was very hungry! I walked past the store for a few steps and finished off the cookie in no time. But I was still hungry… so, I thought I would walk to the store again to get another cookie. I was a little embarrassed to do this but I had no choice since I was still hungry.

So, I turned and headed back to the store again. I gathered my courage and asked the nice lady, “May I have this again?” Honestly I couldn’t believe myself when I did it the second time but she smiled at me and handed me one mini cookie once more and again I thanked her.

And just like before, I walked away as I ate the cookie. When I finished it, I was still hungry. I thought to myself, ‘Maybe, I could ask for one more time and then I’d go back.’

Again I walked up to the lady that was still standing and giving away samples. This time, I didn’t dare to look at her while saying, “Ma’am.. May I?” I was too afraid she might scold me. However, she smiled at me and gave me three mini cookies! Unthinkable, she was so kind. She was really an angel. I looked at her gratefully while saying, “Thank you so much, Ma’am.”

As soon as I got the cookies, I finished them off and I ran quickly going back to the classroom.

When I got to the classroom, I was lucky to find Mr Hay had not shown up yet. So, I went to the sink and drank some water to make sure that I would not be hungry until today was over. After that, I went to the classroom and waited until Mr Hay came in.

When Mr Hay came in, my heart was pounding because when his class was finished, it would be lunch time with Mrs Johnson and my lunch box was empty. Time flew by too fast. An hour had passed and the bell rang indicating it was lunch time.

Everybody took out their own lunch box and put it on their tables. I saw everybody was chatting and laughing while they dug in what was in their lunch boxes. I was too embarrassed and scared at the same time. I was so sure Mrs Johnson would scold me in front of the whole class. I wanted to cry but I could not do that here. So, I went to the sink near the stairs. I splashed water over my face and drank a lot of water from that so that my stomach would not groan when everybody was eating their lunches. 

I saw Mrs Johnson walking to the classroom and I immediately went back to the classroom. I saw everybody was looking at me and in that instant I thought to myself, ‘they know’. Then I proceeded to sit down and opened my empty lunch box only to be surprised when there were some grapes, an egg, and a sandwich. I looked at my friends who were looking at me with smiles on their faces. I did not know who put them all in my lunch box but I was so happy. ‘Friends are indeed a family’, I thought.

 

Author: Riska Karina S

Editor: Ulfah Rizqiningtias