The Black Pirates
CH. 136 – Story Opener: Greetings Missing
Loving a work of art is what makes me confused with a thousand languages.
“Alright, friend. Somehow I want to write this story again, just miss.” One day Author Gabut wants to re-write this annoying-looking story, promising a variety of ambyar vocabulary.
He spoke alone, indeed this January, longing sometimes appeared in the previous year. That's when it's a shitty day. The computer screen is on, the clock shows at 05 pm local time while enjoying the charming twilight. Here's how.
Ashraq laughed a little. “Hey, friend. Wake up from your silly dream, he's the one you've always loved already has the person he loves, he's not joking when he's with you he doesn't want to. Wake up from your silly dreams. And you know, right now you're just being used by him as a broomstick that he needs to sweep through his troubles.”
Ashraq had been grumbling a lot lately, the young man's soul did not reflect the slightest sense of comrade or condolences over the incident that befell a young friend before him. That looks like a bone sprain. Er, wrong, I mean it!
Opening his eyes slowly, he curled his face. “Let me. You just disturb the sleeping man, let him be.. The important thing is he is happy, it is enough for me to see him happy and I feel happy.”.
He rose up like a fit man, looking no heartache. Ashraq begins a simple babble that looks like a broken tape lecture amidst lush coconut leaf trees.
Two hours passed, the lecture was very long. If an unusual person hears it, it will hurt even more! All right, the lecture is good!
But, a patronizing lecture? Oh, mercy. The young man gulped bitterly, woke up straight to the lecture.
He blocked all of his friend's WhatsApps numbers and deleted the app. Eh? Not really, where there is. It's ancient times.
There's no more to it exactly.
“We don't want to vent problems, starting this story is simple, friend. You can't start in a hurry or go out of direction as you like.” Well that's the voice of his friend Author who typed this writing.
“Alright—well, I understand.” The author slammed the wheel again to find an idea, what was in his brain? Ah, I don't know.
This story begins. The sails are blowing in the wind, this is a thrilling voyage of the chest.
Modern fiction is absolutely right. It feels like the power of love has been firmly rooted to make the wide river trenches.
“Captain, the ocean there is news that is often talked about by many people. The Nirvana Pirates set a trap between the seas. How could we possibly cross the border between those seas.”
“With spear!” Akma Jaya answered succinctly, with a spear?—What does that mean? Whoa, horrible.
“Captain, are you kidding. It's a serious matter, there's no time for jokes between us. More news that I heard the ocean there was so much of a trap. Extremely terrible, even able to address ships passing.”
“That's just a local story, we're dealing with a spear. Blowing wind and waves that became our benchmark.”
“Must be impenetrable, captain. I don't know see a lot of reality blowing wind and waves are sometimes not friendly to the human race.” Kalpra said lightly, issuing an argument.
Oh, mercy. Tabra slapped him on the wrist, just below his shoulder. Aswa Daula could not help but laugh. Some also laugh.
“A stupid captain met us is indeed a pleasant thing.”
“You could say so.” They were whispering and I don't know.
“We have an heirloom to rule the wind, take it easy. During this voyage we will be assisted by the wind spirit.” Akma Jaya answered and left them.
From the ear of hearing. The whispers were heard once, the Captain's ears had been sharpened since he was three years old. This is the one time hearing caught their conversation. How was the heart at the time?
Away is a way not to join it and reconcile the heart to still be able to receive. Akma Jaya holds her hat with a shadow of the past that she cannot forget.
Greetings that will not be the same, longs that are very strong. The past is indeed behind, a reminder of the self when the soul is swayed without direction.
Greetings that will not be the same, longs that are very strong. The past is indeed behind, a reminder of the self in a moment when the soul is wavering without direction.
In front of the ship Jalbia not story with all of them. He was busy enjoying the peaceful view of the ocean without any distractions. The sea was far from the ocean of the pirates. The old pursuit of past mistakes is still lingering until now, feels impregnated.
“What the life of this group will end up in the hands of the enemy or in the ocean. I was thinking about something I couldn't find the bright side of. I want to be free from this group and live out my days as a commoner, but everything is done, rice after being porridge. Those pirate groups will definitely pursue this group with faces that are already on the wanted list all the way to its roots.” Jalbia speaks alone.
“If I hadn't joined this group at that time, my way of life would not have been this complicated.”
If only the bandits had been floating there. Although in the book he had learned that suppose it is not allowed. With a sentence if only it could invite unbearable regret. That's what happened to him, sorry and if only.
“If only I could turn back the clock, go back in time. If only I could see my parents. If only I could do all that, surely I could be grateful for the life I am currently living, even though how I always miss the strange past.”
Jalbia was constantly talking alone. It was a simple way for him to feel the calmness and dispel the loneliness within him. How back in Daura village he was just an orphan being nurtured by a teacher.
From a distance Glosia looked to see it. How the look on Jalbia's face recalls the past. It could be felt by Glosia since the two of them had been friends for a long time.
That day it felt like the age passed twenty years, when together. That form of longing is deeply rooted in the heart.
They have been friends for a long time, a long time. Until it feels like no one can separate it. Greetings long for memories and old hopes, longing greetings that are so strong.
