A Million Stories
The painter (Mystery story)
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“Mak I went nongki-nongki first yak”.
“Heh, you tong, go play continue. Want to nongki where are you?”
“Alah kayak 'do not know young people today aja mak, well in kape-kape lah”
“Yaudinlah, but be careful, do not pass through the old city. There is a mysterious painter there keg, supposedly the person he painted, tomorrow he died loh”
“Oncret (alright) makkk, just let's go, go first. Assalamelaikum”
That was the licensing incident when I was about to go hanging out, right between me and my mom. But for a second, there's something I need to get straight here. My name is not what my mother said. Not otong loh yeah, that's a boy's bird. Not lontong, it's Pak Hadi's favorite food. Know who he is? Yes, it's true that my chatty neighbor is rich in cats when it comes to sleep. Well, how is it? Alah hand over.
Oh yes earlier introduce me, my name is Aris Setiawan. Very good yak? Born from the mother's womb. Not handsome, just a cool tone anyway, that was my mother said earlier. Likes the girls. Why do I like girls? Because I'm a normal guy. I'm not like my school friend Zai, uh I told ya but don't tell anyone, he said he likes guys. You understand why? I don't know either. Wallahualam.
Tonight I and a friend of a skate boy cabal, there are about 6 people anyway, want me to know one-on-one? Not tired, there must be one that makes me tremble. You know who else if not Zai. We want to hold a small meeting again. Well kayak mubes (great musyawarah) let it be like the official organization of gitoh. You know what we want to talk about? Maybe like why you can call it skate why not check or something. Then why the shape of the skateboard can be oval, not square or circle, it is more cute.
I was with friends (he said) going to a cafe near the old town. You know the old town? Yes, the city is old, that's it. There is a lot of mysterious sinister bin. Therefore, my mother was surprised if I hang out in the old city cafe.
Arriving at the cafe, all on the coffee message. But I don't, I want to order something, which is certainly other than the others, to look like a rich man.
“Mbak I pesen most muahalll in this cafe”
“Eh, what is it? Is that really mas? Answer the cafe waiter who said she was female with a little surprise.
“Iya mbak, I ordered white water mix ice”
“Loh kok foreign so mas, on the menu there is no loh”
“It is not that there is anyone on the writing menu is ice water. Do not know mbak, yak” village
Why suddenly the waiter left me with a face that was judes. Uh, judes but sweet, sure.
“Tomorrow us if you want to meet again, make your own cafe aja deh. so there is no lid” I shouted at them.
“Siyapppppppp lah bossss.
“Build use your money yak. Your money is my money, my money is my money” said the Zai.
Damn the shucks follow me again. The eyes seem to want to brim, do not know why. Maybe this is called sleepiness. Duh, human beings exist.
On the way home, I walked alone. Who is my home at the far end of my own. I'm sorry my dad didn't blame you, I just don't feel fair. In a corner of the old town, under the lights. The lamp is yellow. There was someone sleeping on the back of the city's lamppost.
I approached him too. It seems like he's hungry too. Fortunately in my jacket pocket there was still my bread one month ago, then I gave it to him. Not heroic ass. He's a little boy. Why a child? Because he's not a parent. I'm a girl, but I don't know if it's even a girl. About 10 years old. His face was very kumel, beside him were various silhouette paintings lined with red ink. When I asked him if he could paint, he admitted it. He said he was looking for money from the painting.
He said to repay my kindness for giving me bread he wanted to paint me, as a gift.
“You sure you can paint people as cool as I deck?”
“Hehe, yes you can. Wait a few minutes ya”
“Siyappppp”
Soon my painting was so, after I thanked him, I was about to rush home. Of course, afraid to be sought by mother later. When I got home I didn't forget to open the door, because I couldn't have gotten in if it hadn't been opened. Immediately with the feeling of impatience I want to stick the sketch painting of my face earlier on the wall of my room. After I stick, I'd better get some sleep.
A few seconds after I closed my eyes, suddenly there was liquid dripping down my cheek. Alamakkkk. It wasn't even ordinary water, but it was the blood that flowed from the sketch painting of my face. I wanted to scream, but I couldn't because I was so limp. I also saw the little painter in the old town, now standing in the corner of my bedroom wall. I grew weak, before my eyes began to close again I was reminded by my mother's message. Well, the message that I shouldn't walk in the old town, because there's a miterius painter there.
When I woke up from my sleep earlier, the entire room was now white, as well as the clothes I was wearing now. “Where am I..?”.
Finishes.
SORRY IF THERE ARE SIMILARITIES IN NAME, ADDRESS, TIME AND PLACE. THIS STORY IS JUST FICTIONAL. DO NOT FORGET TO FOLLOW AUTHOR, LIKE, COMMENT A LOT, MAKE A FAVORITE, VOTE CAN ALSO. THANK YOU
