Stiff Corpse

Sinner Village

This village has always been a village full of evil and depravity. Almost incalculable, whatever sins they have committed. Sin, may have become a staple in this village. Therefore, some people refer to this village as the "Village of Sinners". Doing maksiat activities has become a hereditary tradition. Mirisnya is, if there are people who try to remind or change the behavior of this village will certainly be hostile and even killed by all residents.

Anyone, who tries to remind them of their habits will be attacked in crowds. Men, women, mothers, fathers, grandfathers, little children, even village chiefs, even if they fight. There have been many victims of this village, there have even been kades killed. No exception to that good shaman.

In 1995, the village had two magic shamans. When health access still has not reached the village, the two shamans become a mainstay to cure the disease of the citizens. The two shamans are equally powerful, and equally do not want to lose. The difference is, one of the shamans did not support the depraved habits of his village residents. This good shaman is religious, noble, and likes to help people. But it is precisely this kind of good person that this village hates the most.

Wearing a white shabby cloth vest, with short white cloth pants below the knees, and his old black belt, this good shaman walked around the village streets. It has become a mandatory activity every afternoon. Villagers already know that, some people say hello politely because they had been helped when sick. Some scorned him, and some threw him with vegetables, until his white vest was stained. However, the old shaman kept smiling. The thin white jangut neatly dangled on his chin continued to be rubbed, while smiling at the residents who threw it. How patient this shaman is.

He continued walking around the village, until finally a shout from an empty house provoked his attention. The look in his eyes that I had just now suddenly turned serious. His thick, whitened eye brows sharpened furiously, when he knew the source of the sound. A woman ran out of the empty house, half-naked. His white body was filled with wounds. The pull cloth that covered part of his chest was also torn here and there. And even more pitifully, the beautiful face of the young lady was battered.

Hose then, a large man, black, came out of the empty house. With a fiery face and irregular breath full of lust, he unsheathed the machete in his right hand and ran after the woman. Seeing the Shaman walking towards him, this woman sped up her pace and immediately took refuge behind the old back.

That lustful face instantly turned into a burning fury when it saw the good Shaman trying to protect the woman. Without wasting any time, without any long compromises, the man immediately threw his machete right at the head of the good shaman. No matter what magic he used, the machete actually bounced back at high speed, and stuck it right in the man's dirty brain. It instantly took lives.

The woman could not say anything, she only cried bitterly, thanking the shaman for being saved. The shaman then calmed the recently abused woman down, and told her to return home immediately. The shaman stroked the chest, sighing deeply. He really did not think, the habits of these village people really crossed the line. The shaman left the corpse of the perverted man lying on the ground just like that, with his own machete, still stuck on his forehead.

It didn't take long for people to find the body, and it didn't take them long to know why the man was killed and who did it. That afternoon was also –dimotored by the evil shaman of his rival-dozens of residents gathered in front of the house of the good shaman. He was attacked, dragged out of his house. The shaman was beaten, tortured, and judged by the masses. Once satisfied, they all dragged him around the village, swiping the old face against the street rocks.

I can't imagine the pain he felt at that moment. Especially when other villagers, who watched him being paraded around, threw him. The vegetables were now painful, not as usual. The shaman wept bitterly, his good intention to help was even reciprocated in such a way. In his groan, he prayed to God to help him in this predicament. God seems to have his own plan.

The group of people who follow the arakan more and more. Those who had just joined also put a hatred on the good shaman's deeds. But there are some residents who are worried, and just want to see what happens next, including the young Mr. Badrun and little Joko. The two of them did not dare to obstruct the evil intentions of the villagers. They are helpless with the traditions of this village.

The group continued to walk –sambut continued to torture the shaman - until it reached the village field. Some residents were seen setting up a teak pole, planting it on the ground, and viciously hanging the good shaman there. Then alternately they whipped, torturing the weak and thin body. They laughed out loud, they seemed to be enjoying the savage act. While the shaman, his consciousness is getting weaker. Maybe he was indeed powerful, but with dozens of physical injuries received by his old body, even his magic was useless.

"HEAR THE VILLAGERS OF SINNERS!! I'M KI BRAMANTHORO!! SWEAR IT!! I WILL CURSE YOU ALL!!"

"Curse yourself!! HAHAHAHA... FUCKING MURDERER!!" The evil shaman's words burned the emotions of the citizens. Residents responded by shouting rumbles, cursing the shaman.

"THAT'S THE KILLER, THE RAPIST, THE ADULTERER, THE SINNER!!" he said while continuing to cough up blood.

"I CONDEMN YOU, AS LONG AS YOU CONTINUE TO SIN, YOU WILL NEVER FEEL A CALM DEATH!!, YOU WILL DIE, THEN LIVE AGAIN, TO DIE A SECOND TIME!! EVERY DESCENDANT AND BLOOD OF YOUR FLESH EVERYWHERE ON THIS EARTH!! IT'LL BE DAMNED!!"

DOR'S!

Suddenly there was a sound of gunfire from the crowd. The bullet shot rapidly through the forehead, breaking the old skull. Blood, fragments of skull bones, and his brain pouring out profusely flooded his face. The dying witch doctor is now breathing his last breath, dead in the hand of Mr. Kades' gun. Yes young Kades, who is also my current kades, shot the good shaman to death. I don't know what the devil pushed him to shoot too fast, but people still haven't finished torturing him.

Suddenly silence covers. The evil shaman and all the citizens just stared blankly at Mr. Kades, who was still brandishing his gun trembling. Their faces were terrified, their hearts were pounding. Not because of the decision of Mr. Kades shooting, but the curse that was uttered by Ki Bramanthoro earlier. For some reason, when the shaman uttered his curse, all could only be silent sculpting, not budging in the slightest. Though the speech should only be a meaningless cursing cry, but they were scared to death. It seemed like the shaman was exerting all his last devotion to it.

That afternoon the sky was so cloudy. Thundering thunderbolts mixed with water droplets began to rain down on the village field. There were a lot of people gathered there. Old, young, male, female, fathers, even small children. Their faces cringed in horror. Terrible fear raged in each of their hearts as they wounded the corpse that was hung on the stake. This is a historic day. A dark history that will be etched in this village they love, forever and ever.

Some residents then broke away from the silence. They move –with a little nervous-down the shaman's corpse. Their faces looked very sad, even though a few minutes ago they were like possessed by a demon, tormenting him with utter disdain. But their hearts seemed to turn this time around. They then carried the shaman's body away from the field and headed to the village cemetery. Several other residents, who had managed to escape the silence, followed. They then buried the corpse of the good shaman, properly. Seemed fear mixed with deep regret drawn from the faces of some of the residents.

Other residents, including the Wicked Shaman and Mr. Kades are still frozen in the field which is now raining heavily. They were meeting each other. The curse seemed to have completely pierced their hearts. The evil shaman then began to act, trying to calm them down by making fun of the curse. But all his efforts still could not eliminate the cloud cloud that had enveloped their hearts. Even the evil shaman himself also looked panicked, what if the curse really happened?

But after that event, they returned to their depraved habits as usual, as if nothing had happened.