Setahuku sosoknya hanyalah bualan para leluhur saja.” Miel menyetir parangnya sedemikian rupa, menghentak-hentak tajamnya hingga babi di atas papan berubah menjadi potongan-potongan kecil.
All articles filed in Writing
Mirror, Mirror, On The Wall
“Kau yang melakukannya bukan?” Ia berbisik dalam gelisah. Suaranya nyaris pudar oleh udara hampa yang menyelubunginya.
The Silent Road
One night, I was in the dark, wheezing, perhaps not breathing at all. I could smell the dust, airless room around me. And the stench of moss—or the rotten bog, I wasn’t sure.
Continue reading “The Silent Road”
Sore Tanpamu
Aku duduk di atap rumah, menatap langit sore yang mulai memerah. Pilu rasanya. Mengingat masa-masa itu hatiku sakit.
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The tip of her finger paused of tracing the words. Her heart refused to take a dash of air. ‘It smells awful’, she said. She couldn’t help but wonder whether the filthy breeze was assorted among the dusts, dirts and mold, or just originated from a stench of death at the corner of the room.
A Story of The Shoeshine
Dawn came with a dreary gray, ominous without a sign of warning. Until the clouds gradually cracked into a half, exposing the radiant of the sun light, he still did not care.
