Settling Time

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Written by
3 years ago
Topics: Shortstory, Mistery

Galang still doesn't believe it. His line of thinking is as logical as the facts of the news in the newspaper so that it is impossible for him to believe such a thing. Even so, he still appreciates Johan, his friend, who has been telling stories in the tent stall for more than half an hour with a convincing expression, like an eye penalty at the court table. Galang, who has been yawning from the first time he heard the opening, now can only grumble while smoking his cigarette occasionally. However, Mr. Totog, who owns the tent stall, enthusiastically became a loyal listener to Johan's story.

"Never mind Jo!" Galang cut. "I do not believe your horror story!"

"I'm serious about this. The house is just really haunted! " said Johan.

"And anyway I just want to snap the antique furniture in the house, period!"

"Oh, so you don't believe me?" Johan glared, his blood began to rise to his head.

"It's not like that, Jo, I just wrote a thesis about the uniqueness of antiques. So in that house, he said, there are a lot of antiques. " Galang explained.

"Son, I suggested, you don't go there. Danger!" Mr. Totok also forbade it.

"Ah, what the hell!" said Galang, sucking on his cigarette skirt for the last one before he threw it away. He gave Mr. Totog some bills to pay the bill, then left.

“Hey Galang, be careful! The house is bleeding! " shouted Johan when his friend said goodbye to visiting the house which had been the main topic of their conversation at the tent stall.

The young man took a leisurely stride along the increasingly relaxed road because it was almost dark and surely the evening call to prayer would sound. He remembered Johan's story about the old house. He doesn't believe in all things ghosts and the like, because for him it is illogical to have to divorce things without facts or evidence like that, but he will be careful. Secure the words of his friend.

Digital cameras with high image quality lenses have been ready to take pictures of anything around them. He hung the camera belt around his neck so that it hung against his chest. Galang is a student photographer who is almost finishing his thesis, and currently, he is looking for portrait figures of antiques to complete his thesis. He plans to take pictures of antique furniture in an old house. When he told his friend Johan his plan. Not agreeing with his intentions, but instead annoying him and getting tired of the story that Galang considers only a local legend or myth. He couldn't believe it. It is neither history nor logical fact and there is no reason to believe it. Yes, that's how he thought.

The night began to greet him with a touch of seductive teeth until his body occasionally trembled to withstand the extreme cold. While earlier his steps were erratic, hit him and hit him according to the words of the people he was questioning, but each of them always had a different answer. Galang begins to give up his search. He sat back with sweat exhausted that kept pouring from the pores of his skin. The legs that had been stepping earlier now felt stiff and heavy, as if time was a chain binding them. He was too tired and now gave up. Disappointed always mastered him, but for a moment he gathered the strength to fight the feeling of uselessness, even though he was not a photo of antiques but was tired and disappointed that was obtained. He never cursed circumstances, because this was his destiny.

Several times he tried to get up but had exhausted his strength while dazed in search. When he managed to stand up straight, a person could be seen walking from the side of the road to the entrance of the luxury house that he had been using to lean on from before. That person turned out to be a middle-aged man with gray hair over his head.

"What are you doing here?" asked the man.

"Sorry I rested here for a while. I got lost, sir. Already from my back and forth looking for addresses, but nothing. " Galang replied weakly.

"Oh, poor you too. Let's just go in, kid, just rest inside. It's cold outside. Come on in. " invite the person with a smile and old eyes that are sharp from behind his minus glasses, but look shady, evoking the atmosphere. The kindness of the middle-aged man felt like a warm embrace in his heart. Luckily for Galang, because after he entered the house outside the rain fell so heavily with the wind and thunder.

The middle-aged man introduced himself named Jonathan Ernest to Galang. They shake hands. Slowly the man told the intricacies of his life. He is an Indonesian man, whose father is from Europe and his mother is originally from Java. He also tells some inspirational stories in his life to Galang, who occasionally responds enthusiastically to him. Their conversation was getting warmer, making the cold air seem forgotten for a moment.

"Are you a photographer?" Jonathan asked, staring at the digital camera that Galang had been holding.

"Yes, I am a final semester photography student," Galang replied while taking out a cigarette skirt which she then lit and occasionally sucked in full of pleasure. Their conversation continues. The middle-aged man's eyes lit up every time he told his story and Galang enthusiastically became a loyal listener who occasionally argued. The young man seemed to forget his first goal, but after the two of them were silent for a moment. He ventured to ask, even though he was really doubtful.

"Do you know this address?" Galang asked, holding out a small sheet of notepaper.

"You know, but this address ..." Jonathan replied after a few moments of remembering. Now the friendliness on his face began to fade away with sharp eyes that stared suspiciously, thick eyebrows converging, and slowly a strange smile appeared on his face.

"What's the address, sir?" asked Galang curiously.

"Are you sure you want to go to this address?" Jonathan asked back.

"Yes." Galang nodded slowly while sucking on his skirt. "How haunted is the house, so that everyone I ask always shows strange faces, even though my only intention is to get a snap of the antiques in it and go home."

"The house is bloody young people, don't visit there occasionally, because the stakes are life." said the man while confirming the location of his glasses. "If you want I will show you some of my antique collection. Maybe it will heal your disappointment son, but you must promise never to visit the house. Dangerous!"

"Wow, what a coincidence. My promise to repay all of your kindness, sir. " Galang said with bright eyes with hope. "It's an honor for me if you will."

“Okay! Prepare your best camera settings. " Jonathan said as he got up. In his old sharp eyes glowed a fire of enthusiasm, until the darkness was disguised.

Quite a few antiques belonged to this middle-aged man. Jars, statues, bronze plates, paintings from well-known artists, a collection of coins from the Majapahit kingdom to the present day complete with explanations, and a display dining table full of abstract carvings like strange symbols. All that neatly arranged in a private room. While Galang was busy taking pictures of the collectibles, Jonathan had several times explained their origins. With agile movements, the young man gave all his abilities in aiming and taking the photos he got while he was a photographer student. He kept on being amazed. A sense of joy, delight, admiration, and emotion now filled his heart. Get rid of the disappointment that had stopped for a moment.

Galang is very grateful to Jonathan for sharing his time and showing his collection.

"Thank you very much, because you are very kind to me. Once again, thank you." Galang said with a smile.

"You're welcome, young people. Hopefully useful for you. " replied Jonathan with a bright smile on his wrinkled face.

"Can I take a photo with you as a memento?"

"Of course, come." Galang for a moment setting up his camera with a timer mode that will automatically take several shots. Then they pose with their arms wrapped around each other's shoulders, looking like a father with his child.

"I have to go home soon, it is very late and the rain also seems to have stopped," said Galang while looking at the watch on his right hand.

"Okay, let me take you outside," replied Jonathan.

Befriending a skirt * k she down the road home. Increasingly silent darkness accompanied his steps. The wind blew softly with its nosiness and creeps. His body occasionally trembled against the cold. She sucked on his cigarette skirt and exhaled with white smoke in the dark night. She had already spent five skirts to accompany him steps, which were getting heavy. It was only in the sixth skirt that she arrived at his rented house.

Knock, knock, knock ...

"Assalamualaikum." Please wait. There were footsteps towards the door from the inside. Slowly the door opened with a sad hinge creak in my heart.

"Astaghfirullahal adzim!" jerked Johan surprised. His eyes couldn't see the figure in front of him. "Our world is different friends. So don't bother me, rest easy in your eternal realm. Go, I've let you go. " Galang confused. Want to laugh, but this friend looks serious and he can only stay silent while sucking the last * k skirt. Nosily, she spreads the smoke of his skirt on Johan's face.

"Why Jo? You think I've been eaten by the ghost of the house. Ah, you are nonsense. " Galang stopped to suck his skirt for a moment. "Then where are you going with this neat piece of recitation-style clothes? I didn't tell you, Jo, if theree was a grand recitation. So I don't come home at this time. "

"Is this really you Lang?" asked Johan while shaking his friend's shoulders.

"Hehe, don't see you for a few hours, your behavior changes drastically, huh. You miss me! To pretend to forget everything! " said Galang while throwing away his skirt, which only left the cork.

"You really are my friend!" Johan hugged his friend's body while sobbing, crying so sadly.

"Eh, why the heck? I've always been Galang. When will I become a black armor knight and comrades! " Galang chuckled in the arms of his friend who was sobbing sadly, for some reason. "Where are you going neatly like this?"

"I was going to your house to attend a prayer event together, to commemorate your departure for one year on the day, but ..."

“You are nonsense Jo. I just left a few hours ago after arguing with you at Mr. Totog's tent stall. Do you remember? " Galang cut sharply.

"Yes I remember, but in fact, you have disappeared without a word for one year," Johan said while releasing his embrace.

"Jonathan Ernest's house!" muttered Galang when he saw the photos on his camera. There is one photo that is odd. His photo with a middle-aged man is strange because only Galang is seen alone. his hands look like they're wrapped around someone's shoulders, but in the photo, she is completely alone.

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Written by
3 years ago
Topics: Shortstory, Mistery