Guardian Ghosts

The mystery of Sendra Dance Village

Dika down the remote area, where the village is suspected of the origin of the urban legend.

The village is still untouched by technology, like a city. Things smell mystical, always intersect with remote areas, which are still thick with customs.

A village, on the island of Java where the girls contribute most dance groups (If there are similarities, just the imagination of the author alone).

The age of the girl who has stepped on 15 years, has been considered mature to undergo a series of processions of maturation and sacralization to become an artist, especially dancers and sinden. When he came to the house of a village chief there, the journey was not easy to reach this village, from the city center, he had to ride the city transportation to the outskirts, the journey was not easy to reach this village, from there he had to pass through the forest using an ojeg that was far away not playing.

From the entrance gate of the village alone, his aura was already very thick with magical aura.

"Assalamualaikum ! "

"Glamour !"

"Who's looking?" ask the middle-aged mother.

"Mom, is this really Kades sir's house ?!" ask Dika.

"Yes right, brother from where, huh?"

"Ahh, meet ma'am.i am Mahardika from the city, "

"Please come in, I call you a little, "When you come in, examine this 4×5-meter room, roof the room, and wooden. The houses here are almost all stage-shaped.

Sitting in a chair, shortly from the inside came a father wearing a black, almost worn-out peci.

"Sir" Dika stood for a moment.

"Search me, brother? whose sister?" her question allowed her to sit back.

Dika told me the origin and purpose of his goal to come here, the father looked at him and nodded his nod to understand.

"Here there is a dance sanggar named Sanggar Winasih, there are some descendants of hisai Winasih flower, sister can ask them ! let's take you !" the man immediately stood up, tidied up his clothes and escorted Dika.

When passing through several houses with torch lamps in front of their yard, it was a village that used nature as a supporter of their lives,

"This electricity is only during the day only dik, and for the night more use of electric power from generators that use the energy of waterwheels in the river there !" point the father at the river that runs throughout the village. Really, if not for the urban legend attached to it. This village, will be a cool tourist destination.

The breeze created from the friction of the leaves of banyan trees and bamboo shady until it reaches the village, as if giving freshness and solitude of its own. The dry foliage is widespread and trampled into a special property that God gives.

From the view of the village that spoils the eyes, making anyone feel at home for a long time here, there is a pendopo in the middle of the plaza village. The sound of gamelan chanting with the wind looks harmonious in hearing. Some girls go down in the company of 2 parents, a boy and a girl who set the tempo.

Mr. Kades invited Dika to briefly enjoy the training treats of the village girls with kemben and pull with floral patterns. Their hair is matching, dyed one in the back. It reminded Dika of Raina.

After finishing, Mr. Kades brought Dika to approach the two parents earlier. Apparently, ki Nyawang and nyai Murti are the grandchildren and ghosts of the 7th generation of Nyai Winasih. Murti's face is like a Dutch blaster.

Nyai Murti and ki Nyawang, take Dika to the dance studio. According to him, the day started late in the afternoon.

"It's late in the afternoon, it's impossible if Dika son continues his way back to the city now, you should just stay here, after all.nak Dika has not found what he wants to look for !" ki Nyawang said, fortunately everyone here is good and friendly.

"Yes, thank you in advance ki, nyai.pak Kades," said Dika.

"Then you stay first, if you want Dika to stay at home, it's also okay !" bargained for.

"Yes sir, thank you !" the answer.

"Sorry, Ki..j@mB@*n which way is it? I'm going to get some water ?" ask her.

"Oh there! just go straight, then turn right, back," point ki Nyawang, Dika nods, he passes through the middle room, if he turns left, he will enter the sanggar room, then he turns right. Not in the house he found, his bathroom went straight to the backyard, a room separate from the house, but behind him directly facing the river.

If only to take ablution only, Dika do not have to get into the bathroom, because outside it alone, has been provided a jug filled with water, which just opened the hole, just open the hole, then the water will come out of the hole itself. With torches embedded where, add to the night's martyrdom, which is only highlighted by night animals. But Dika decided to throw away his haj@tnya first.

Dika's eyes squinted, his hands rubbed a rough face that was wet from the water, he walked over. If not wrong, today is Friday night. Naturally and legally, if the villagers are still adhering to kejawen, maybe, there is something that must be maintained and preserved in this village.

"Isn't that ki Nyawang and nyai Murti?" muttered.

Both of them glare like offerings, precisely some types of flowers are also incense in this river.

Dika re-entered, into the house and performed the Maghrib prayer. Dika served with a variety of typical village food, ki Nyawang also can not be separated from tobacco cigarettes mixed with dried jasmine flowers.

"When recounting the events that Raina had experienced lately, "ki Nyawang and nyai Murti knitted their eyebrows together.

"Even if Dika's son has got the skewer, Dika still have to bring Raina's son here ! everything that comes from here, must be returned here anyway !" answer nyai Murti.

"There is something missing and reduced from the urban legend, the healing procession of the affected person for the flower shawl, is not enough to be healed with just that. But, he also had to bathe in the river, where the dancers perform preparatory rituals, if going to hold a performance.

Dika nodded, understand. It is very difficult to find the cell phone signal.

"Ki, is there a phone here or something for a communication device?" ask Dika.

"If it is, we are not the answer. Ask Mr. Kades, son." nyai Nyi Murti apply oil in his joints, while drinking herbal medicine.

Dika walked out of the hangar, as far as the eyes looked at this village was quiet, plus the darkness that struck, which was only illuminated by torches in each house, making his guts slightly shrunk.

He looked towards the Sanggar. Precisely in the direction of some gamelan tools. The reflexes capture the scenery, how boisterous the atmosphere, the nayaga of each other menabuh tool in front of them, while enjoying his own game, and dance in the middle of the room. The dancers are still small dancing with agility, followed by the dancers girls into the spotlight, not infrequently the men participate in dancing flirtatious and perverted, from the corner behind the nayaga stand two figures, not infrequently the men, one was no stranger to her, nyai Kembang and her Dutch husband. The silhouette of a dancer's body went in there alone. Now she is the star, Dika getting into the room, curious.

"Raina !!!" Dika fell in shock, with Bagas tailing.

"Pukkk !!!"

"Son Dika, son Dika !!!" someone resuscitated Dika in the direction behind him.

"What do you want to see?" ask ki Nyawang.

"Raina's there with Bagas ! there's Nyai Kembang Winasih and her Dutch husband !" dika replied in a cold sweat.

"Ki, how's this?"ask nyai Murti.

"Son Dika, we have to bring Raina's body here immediately ! tomorrow night will be held here. And that day, we'll take off the flower from Raina's body !" answer Ki Nyawang.

.

.

.

.

.