Dark Days

He walks during dark days. Upon glancing up, falls one feather. And then two. Six. Twenty. A hundred. These dark days are never ending. There is no sky as densely grey as the one above his head. Dead horses. Broken carriages. At the corner he turns. And there they are.

One day, the mad and the powerful meet. They both smile and share a laugh. A joyful, burdenless laugh. At exactly the same time, a man in exile is contemplating. What has he done wrong?

The woman in her sixties picks up a crying baby from inside a cardboard box. She smiles at him and gives him a gentle look. The baby stops crying. The woman then brings him home.

One card, a tap. The gate opens. She waits for the next arrival. Leaning on the dirty wall, she’s humming a folk song. Her home is not where she is going. Her home is too far away. Right now she’s just going to her shelter.

Some strange occurances have been taking place around the city of safety for the past few months. These occurances, some have reported, seem to be quite hostile. Three people were heavily affected by one incident that happened in an apartment where they live.

He keeps walking despite of what he’s seeing in front of him. A little boy, his body unmoving. He was pulled out of the rubble and is being carried by two men. An old woman in a distance is sobbing, her eyes deprived of light. All he can see is surrender. One photographer is taking pictures. She talks with a strong accent.

The strange occurances have stopped. Not because they want to, but because there is nothing left they can touch.

He looks up again. The falling feathers are gone. There is no sky as bright and soft as the one above him. The man in exile is now free. He left the world that has rejected him so many times. He left the world trying to fix itself, with the little help it has remaining. He left the world hanging.



The gate is locked
The wall has no door
Days rolling by so fast
Circumstances have hit you hard
When the sky is bright
Sometimes you wish for more
But the rains have made you realize
How many times you’ve said no
You’ve tried once
Not enough
While complications are piling up
You wonder how much you’ve got
But you have it inside
The power to revive
Through the infinite downfalls
Out of nothing you create all
Glowing ashes
Heat crawling up your skin
Spread your wings
Determined feet bearing your whole body
They don’t know now
But they will
How you rise from the ground
To be reborn, to unceasingly live

Under The Pouring Rain

(Something I wrote a long time ago)

Usually rain comforts me, it isolates me from desperate noises of humanity with its stormy sound that covers the screams of confused seekers, the solvers of life’s puzzles, those who live to find the truth. However, that evening, penetrating and infiltrating, were the arrogant cold wind and the dark clouds that looked down on me, as my eyes glared up at them, challenging them fearlessly. The sound of the rain irritated me, messed with my mind, stirred up my emotions… it was laughing at me.

Under a leafless tree, which of course didn’t protect me from the pouring water, I stood and wiped my face over and over again, as if the act would forever cast away the water that fell from both the sky and my eyes. I removed my hood, revealing my wet hair that was tainted by traces of mud, and stared at the distance, where I could see the line that separated the dark sky and the wasteland. It had been one hell of a day, and I somehow knew that everything was just starting to get much worse.
I had my rifle in my arms, half-loaded, my clothes completely soaked and my body suffered from minor wounds. I was fine, yes, but you have no idea how I even got to this place, what I had been through, all the blood and the dead bodies. And the rain didn’t care. It kept falling, feeding on my sorrow. The sound it made, it was deafening, filling my ears with nothing but ignorance that spread around my head, freely inviting images from the past.

Shame. Regret. Alone would be carrying them for the rest of my life. The others would have no clue, they would be as unaware as the rain. Don’t tell me I was wrong. If you had been in my position, forcing your way through the things you took no pleasure in doing, just because of some stupid mistakes that you’ve made back when everything was all joyful and happy, then you would certainly understand. The world now suddenly put on a different mask, facing me with an intimidating look, cornering me so that I would find no other way to deal with all of this. Even hating myself would not work, because nothing would. I was left with a mix of confusion, panic, and anger. Nothing or no one to blame. Nothing that could be undone.

You see, I would never have a future where I belong in a place I could call home, with the people I could call family. The future would only linger in my mind as a deadly mouth that swallows everything coming its way. A black hole, you might say. A dead star. Timeless, spaceless, indefinite. Yes, it was my future, still is, and will forever be. I am not even pretending, for that is the truth.
So that evening, I decided, after a long moment of hesitation, to embrace my future. Wherever it would take me, I was ready. I had nothing else to lose anyway, so, “Let’s just get this over with.”
I grabbed my handgun and took it out of its holster. I lifted it up, turned it around,  and put my finger on its trigger. As of now it had come to the point where I didn’t give a damn anymore, about anything at all. I put the tip of the gun inside my mouth, only seconds before I pulled the trigger.

With my mind blurred, I could not think of a reason why I should do this, but clearly I could not think of any reason why I should not do this either.
I killed myself that day, just like I killed my best friends two hours before.
And then I heard a loud bang, a thunder, followed by the sound that comforted me. The rain had just started pouring from the sky, but I was inside an abandoned house, completely dry. I was standing in front of a window, staring at the storm that was approaching. No, no, not the storm that you might think, it was the storm that was only coming for me.


I turned around. A tall man carrying a shotgun was standing by the door behind me. “You comin’ or what?”

Not able to meet his eyes, I looked away. “You sure you wanna do this?” I asked with my voice trembling.

“Yeah of course!” There was a silent pause for a few seconds. “You alright, man?”

No. I was not alright. He would be the first of three men whose deaths were on my hands. I would kill my best friends that day.

A Visit

I had travelled around your world, seen the things and heard the sounds no one else could ever imagine of. There were the nights without any glint or ray of light. Scavenging through the dark area, trying to keep track of time and possessing little clue of when the blackout was going to end. Within the darkness, sometimes I would trip and fall into a deep hole, where my body would slowly get thinner and my energy drained. At the bottom of the deepest hole I had ever fallen into, I panicked. Lost and in fear, I trembled. A deep voice kept echoing around me, spitting statements that I could not ignore at all. Affected by this voice, I gave up and cowered under the wings of the devil. At nights, hope was lost.

However, as the scary voice started to fade away, a long line that bordered the light and the dark appeared, ripping apart the night to uncover another side of your world; the day. Illuminated by the first light, I started to see vines attached to the wall surrounding the hole, so I climbed up. And then there I saw, a vast grassland, with dense trees soaring up here and there, each was accompanied by a field of flowers circling its foot. As the cool breeze touched my skin and played with my hair, I closed my eyes. Hope was reborn.

But even when your sun was high up there and everything good could be clearly seen, my sense of smell would still catch the rotten smell of dead bodies; the people you’d abandoned and disappointed, your regrets, your past selves. My ears would sometimes hear the voice that had been haunting me during nighttime, poisonous and deadly. There was no escaping the devil.

Your world was scary and exciting at the same time. I thought my visit there would complete my understanding of this universe you own. Turned out there were still corners and roads I hadn’t reached, yet. Places further and deeper bound by the laws of your mind.


[ Tiba-tiba dapet seruan dari alam bawah sadar buat menyampaikan ide super aneh ke seorang teman -> (michirutsubasa.wordpress.com). “Eh kita lomba bikin cerita dalam waktu 30 menit yok. Prompt lo gue yang kasih, trus lo kasih gue prompt juga. Terserah apaan aja.” Kemudian dia memberi saya prompt “Reinkarnasi”. Alhasil inilah apa yang berhasil saya ketik dalam waktu 30 menit lebih sedikit, dengan sedikit editan di beberapa bagian.]

Tidak, bahkan sebagian orang menolak untuk mengakui bahwa hal itu ada. Ya, bahkan ia pun tadinya membentengi keyakinannya dari pengaruh pemikiran tersebut.
Perlahan-lahan daun itu menguning, dapat kau bayangkan wajah perempuan itu ketika melihat keindahan musim gugur. Sore itu seraya ia letakkan serangkai bunga di hadapan batu nisan, angin menghembuskan bagian pertama dari pelajarannya hari itu. “Lihat sudah seberapa jauh kau jalani kehidupanmu,” teringatnya kata-kata kakak laki-laki yang dulu suka sekali mengacak-acak rambut merahnya. Kakaknya itu seperti seorang nelayan, suka sok tahu tentang bintang-gemintang. Pikirnya ia telah menguasai ilmu tentang kehidupan dan kematian. Pikirnya ia sudah memahami jawaban dari segala misteri. Ada-ada saja.
Namun hari itu adalah hari ulang tahun kakaknya yang ke-25, dan mungkin hari itu akan menjadi hari terakhirnya sebagai jiwa yang menunggu. “Tunggu sampai aku berusia 25, dan kau akan menyadari bahwa jiwa dapat dikirim kembali ke dunia untuk menghuni kehidupan yang baru,” ucapnya sebelum hembusan napas terakhirnya.
Yep, perempuan itu berkata ia mempercayainya. Namun tidak, sama sekali tidak.
Terlepas dari semburat cahaya jingga yang membanjiri makam kakaknya, dan gemeresak dedaunan tertiup angin sore, tidak ada yang terlihat tidak biasa. Omong kosong sepertinya apa yang diyakini oleh kakaknya sebagai konsep reinkarnasi. Perempuan itu mendengus sembari tersenyum dan menggelengkan kepala dengan lembut. “Kau selalu mengingatkanku kepada nelayan yang telah mengarungi tujuh samudera. Kau seperti berseru dalam diam bahwa kau tahu segalanya,” bisiknya sebelum membalikkan badan.
Sepi sekali sore itu, seperti sore-sore sebelumnya memang. Namun kakinya tetap mantap melangkah pulang.
Tanpa tahu seperti apa rasanya meninggalkan dunia ini, ia pun terlelap dengan foto kakaknya terdekap di dalam pelukannya.
“Aku lemah seperti air, namun kokoh seperti batu karang. Kau selalu melirikku sepanjang pencarian jati dirimu. Kau tahu aku pernah menghembuskan napas terakhir. Kau tahu aku pernah tidak ada. Namun lihat keluar jendela dan bersahabatlah dengan musim gugur yang menghampiri kota ini, dan aku akan ada di sana di tempatmu biasa mengucilkan diri, sebagai ombak yang pecah, sebagai burung yang menjerit di atas kapal, sebagai angin yang membawa peringatan badai. Aku dilahirkan kembali, adikku. Aku telah menemukanmu lagi, di dunia ini, dengan niat untuk meneruskan hidup dari jalur yang berbeda. Aku merindukanmu, kamu yang dilahirkan di kota ini, dengan aku yang memberimu nama.”
Perempuan itu terbangun dan menemukan dirinya tidur di ranjang yang berbeda. Ia berada di kamar yang berbeda, rumah yang berbeda. Perlahan ia bangun dan membuka pintu kamarnya.
“Pancake, tukang tidur,” kakaknya berdiri di samping meja makan, baru saja menaruh piring dengan dua tumpuk pancake berhiaskan madu di atasnya.
Ia bukan dirinya lagi. Dimana dirinya? Siapa ia?
Suara ombak yang pecah mengalihkan perhatiannya. Ia berada di sebuah rumah di pinggir pantai.
“Tadi malam aku berhasil menangkap banyak sekali tuna, mungkin nanti siang kita akan dapat jatah untuk menikmatinya,” ucap kakaknya yang sekarang memiliki kulit yang terbakar matahari.