They're Here

Remedies

After 15 years, I returned to my homeland. I want to solve the mystery of the disappearance of my 3 little friends. My life is not calm, because it is often haunted by guilt.

Their shadows often greeted my dreams and footsteps. It was as if they were asking me to go back looking for their tracks.

At that time, there was construction of a bridge as well as a highway in our village. For children, it brings its own excitement like being treated to a new playground. Large trucks and beko cars (excavators) become an amazing sight. I remember once how excited we were every after school standing in the excavation location, watching the “Transformer” works.

However, Ende (a term for grandmother) always forbade me to play near the foundation of the bridge building. He said, every large construction construction must ask for a collision.

Gradually, other residents began to monitor their children. We are always wanted to no longer play around the "joy" area". The originally pleasant place became sacred.

It's just that, like small children, the more forbidden it is the more curious. My three friends and I thought the story of the collision was just an adult. The goal is that children do not spend a lot of time playing. Plus, there is no detailed explanation that we can about the true meaning of the collision. So, our innocent souls are challenged to prove the truth.

After school on Thursday, June 4, 1998 – I still remember the date clearly – I with Hamid, Musa, and Rusman went to the quarry. We don't go home because it will be difficult to get permission to play.

The sky is in a cloudy condition. Some workers were seen busy transporting and installing building materials with their power. Excavators who are sleeping unattended, we use for pleasure. We sit and jump in the bucket or the dredger (fork). We also play hide and seek in the body of the excavator.

After tired of laughing with friends, someone whispered to me. “Go home! Don't play here!”

I took my friends home, but they chose to stay. Meanwhile, I creeped in fear, and quickly carried out the no man's cry. I ran away leaving them.

Maghrib. Hamid's parents, Moses, and Rusman came to me. I was interrogated because my three friends, he said, had not arrived home since school.

I was so jerked. I thought they were sitting quietly in their own homes.

Residents also gathered while echoing the news of the loss. Then, all of them left with torches, clubs, slaps, and machetes to the quarry location. Shouts and prayers continued to be glorified into the air, calling Hamid, Moses, and Rusman.

A week had passed since the disappearance of three of my friends, various prejudices were wildly broadcast. Some say they kidnapped Wewe Gombel, and were locked up in another dimension. However, the majority of the residents accused my friends of being used as a collision bridge construction.

Sorrow and trauma continue to overshadow my days. I should have brought them home with more effort. I should have complained to their parents to have them breastfed.

My parents understood that my psychic condition, which was shaken after Hamid, Moses, and Rusman, was not found. Three months later, they took me out of the village, which made my nature very quiet.

On the way to the new residence, I saw three large pillars supporting the bridge. The pillars also depict the faces of Hamid, Moses, and Rusman.

I don't know! I am afraid to speculate.

Now, I've come to fulfill their call. Are they really made into collateral? Or are they trapped in invisible nature? No trace, only I saw them last.