Train -Short Story-

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Written by
3 years ago
Topics: Story, Short Story

The light either came back
I touched the living letters
To
limply stepped Holding the shabby paper.
Indeed who is perfect
But the ink has turned white.
Can not shed tears
Even though the heart is hurt

Hope I drowned Underneath a dark
dream
Nobody keeps looking
No candles help me
Color stares full of lies
Grinning
proud

Only mother
Accompanying me in voice
Just driving away the silence
To cherish a dream

A train leaves the station. The wind that chants the prayer beads spreads an air of peace. Crowded with people joking, sharing smiles from their lips. However, the fire seemed to burn my body. Stiflingly hot. My heart is haunted by anxiety. I wanted to get home quickly, then threw my body onto the mattress.

Suddenly there was a sound of scraping from under the train. anxiety began to envelop everyone around me. all scared. The sound of crashing from the front carriage. Father hugged me tightly. I myself am still confused by all this reality. I can only keep quiet. Suddenly I was thrown away with my father, shocked, worried, scared, semi-conscious. Father took me out. Father sat me a few meters from the train. Slowly my consciousness began to recover. beside me the mother sobbed Meanwhile father ran back to the train to save other passengers, which I saw daddy's hat fell in front of me. Heart filled with fear, lips trembled unable to speak a word. And a big explosion shocked the natural surroundings. I could only feel the shards of glass hitting the eyes, and the light disappeared instantly.

"Mother will go first, honey." said the mother stroking my hair gently.
"Mother put the rice on the table." Add mother, it seems there is already a door.
"Thank you ma'am ... be careful on the road." I replied with a smile.

For 8 years I have spent living in this room. when I was in grade 5 elementary school, I dropped out of school because of an accident that made me blind. I've been alone for 5 days. Mother has to work to make ends meet. Initially my mother opened a small shop in front of the house, and Alhamdulillah, now you can open a restaurant near the city. and he had to come home late every day.

"Aini." someone called whoever. I never heard that voice.
"Who…?" I turned my head even though nothing could be seen.
He put his hand on my shoulder. "Your name is Aini Aulia, right?"
I nodded, my body trembled a little.
"My name is Hamzah. don't be afraid, I have no ill intention. I just want to be your friend. " his gentle hand raised mine and stroked it lightly.
"How did you get here ...?" my heart is not calm
"I've been here for a long time, but you didn't realize it."
I tried to calm down even though I was still scared and embarrassed, how could he always be here watching me. Do you know that? But mother never told me.
"Are you ..."
"Shhh ..." I stopped, his finger touched my lips. “Your mother told me to accompany you. You don't ask anymore, you better just follow my game. "
I just nodded innocently. Regardless of my answer, I won't be able to fight back.

He pulled my hand to take me out of the house, I don't know where. Then told me to sit down. I obey his every word. I felt his soft hands as if he was not a bad person.
"Soon your eyes will return to the way they were eight years ago."
I was shocked mixed with happiness, but I still doubt how sure he could be that sure.
“You will see how beautiful this world is. And you will know that the world has changed from what you saw eight years ago. from blooming cocoons to butterflies, flowers that dance with the wind and the morning breath that blows coolness. Yes. It was then."
"Do you remember? a little boy running around chasing a butterfly, plucking a flower and then giving it to his mother. And play romp with his father. "
"It was a great day." I answered calmly when I realized the little girl he was talking about was me.

The days passed. when my mother went to work, Hamza was always there to accompany me. usually we talk about childhood. I admire him, he knows a lot about my life. But one that I still question, about his family and life. And the answer did not take away my curiosity at all. because he only replied "I am your friend Hamza, a person who has always been lonely since childhood."

Alhamdulillah. The operation went well. I can't wait to see the world. see mother's face and smile, of course I also want to see my best friend Hamzah. The doctor opened the bandage very carefully.
"Try opening his eyes slowly. don't be too forced. ”The doctor beside me gave directions.
From vaguely it looks brighter and clearer. Mother smiled, her face was still as beautiful as eight years ago, it's just that she is more beautiful now wearing a purple scarf that tightly covers her head.
"Mother ..." ah, your warm embrace adds to the incomparable happiness. I whispered in his ear. "Where is Hamza, ma ...?"
"Hamza who ..?" I shook my head stiffly, it turned out that the mother did not know. Who the hell is he, now suddenly disappeared?
"Every time I come home from work, I often see you in the garden with the doll." Mother pointed to the doll that was lying on the table.
"Is Hamza just a puppet? Or am I the only one imagining it? ” I muttered to myself.

I took the doll to sit in the garden beside the house. I'm sure that at that time, sitting in this chair with Hamza, told me about the beauty of the world. But now I have seen the world but now he is missing somewhere? maybe mom is right, she's just delusion

Mother gave me a book called "The Land of Mortals." it contained the poems I used to say, and apparently my mother had secretly written them into an anthology book. also a novel that tells about my life. he said the operating costs were obtained from these books. and the remaining two millions. So I used the money to visit my father's grave in Surabaya.

Father was buried in the backyard of Grandma's house. The westernmost is the tomb of the grandfather. Grandpa died when I was a kid. the easternmost one is the father's tomb. And only a month from the death of my father, my grandmother followed. And grandma's house became an old uninhabited house. He was buried between the graves of his grandfather and father.

My tears are running down. I felt my father hugging me, and I sat on his lap. Letting go of the longing that has been living for a long time. And I express all my heart. Like a spoiled child who tells stories, whines, cries and smiles with his father.

I won't be long. It's only two, three days. I cleaned my grandmother's house, which was still standing, but there were no more things here, other than a thin mat and a cupboard that was no longer intact. And I spent my night bowing down, presenting the most beautiful gifts to my father, grandfather and grandmother.

Morning. After praying Duha, I left for the station. I only carried a backpack that wasn't that big. Contains three pieces of clothing and instant noodles. I am surprised. There is a letter tucked between my clothes. Above was a large inscription "greetings to father."

The train leaves. I read the letter, my cold sweat flowing profusely. But I tried to calm down, and all of this was planned.

All the passengers screamed. The sheet in my hand fell off. I can only surrender. I saw the sheet fly through the window in the wind far behind the train. A single explosive sound erased everything I heard, my final gaze was the color of a burning fire and suddenly everything was gone.

Greetings to dad.
You might ask, who am I really? I am just an abandoned person who doesn't have a home, who is wasted without being recognized by my parents, who is slandered as an adulterous child, who has never felt affection, and is always excluded. Unlike you who have a home to return to, have very loving parents, have everything you need, and love that is always poured out.

Sorry I took your sight at that time. And make our fathers go away forever. And the last one is to convey my greetings to dad.

Hamzah

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Written by
3 years ago
Topics: Story, Short Story

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quite amazing writing

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