Indonesian story

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Thursday, September 24, 2009

The horrse fire--part 2--

fifteen full and dozens torch flame. His left hand visible strain on the leash. A perfect silence. Dozens of torches flicker nervously. I saw his right hand mengenggam Indra trembled stone machetes. Pengkin suddenly kicked his horse forward again, shouting fiercely. Indra's right hand shook hard, but I saw a pair nesting doubts dark eyes.
"Horses of fire, horses sihiran! Of wood back to the wood, the fire back into the fire! If this mantra is not enough to drive you moksa you go into the world saga yesng invisible! "as he held up a torch in his right hand aloft, shouted loudly Pengkin. Then .... Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blaaa ...! A series of sentences glide freely from his mouth, incomprehensible.
Fire horse neighing loud, wailing. His whole body like a powerful fire dikobari. In the saddle, Indra cried. The young man's body falling off a horse. All the people come screaming after watching how the horses of fire spinning like a top. The wind was whirling like a pickaxe. Bodies thrown into the air, plucked bushes, scattered rocks, fallen trees. Then the full moon fifteen silent as the grave of Ramadan ....
But you're not Indra, Son! I know your heart never faltered. I'm sure, you'll still pound the fire cast the horse forward to meet the enemy's death! You've seen in your dreams, how the fire horse disappeared into the saga of the world, struck a broken stone machetes on black stone, and Indra, the warrior who faltered, died twelve bullet holes in his body.
Kunujum you're traveling carrier prophecy warriors who do not know any longer hesitated, Son!
LIKE that I have said, a long saga that has developed in our village. Has been a long time, so apparently no one who still want menggubrisnya, please take the time to tell and listen. Moreover, the saga and the new tales kept berlahiran. More sophisticated and more interesting. Of course, who else would narrate and heard an old story that the main character be a loser! Perhaps only two of us, who continue engkong repeatedly menuturkannya, and I are always willing to listen.
But no! I know, it is not right if only the two of us who still maintain and turn on the story. Yes, I know, secretly, many people are still trying to find the horse that lost to fire in the saga - when the mantra uttered at Pengkin fifteen full moon of Ramadan - was. Still many people. They were milling about like subtle shadows on the walls, in between meetings of trees. Alert and full of secrets.
Because Finally, as engkong story, one day the horse will fire back and whoever owns it will get kedigdayaan.
"But the only one who had been destined for each other with him, could summon the horse back from the natural fire saga," said engkong, "A person who is willing to care for and do not hesitate hikayatnya like Indra. A person who is capable of magic spell, and supposedly the spirit of the horse's own fire that will bring charm to the man. "
Engkong sharp glances, and I imagine it like an old man who created the white turban of the horse statue fire of wood and fire torches at night when the moon crescent Sapar grave in the sky. Ah, the white bearded old champion with no opponent kematiaan fateful meeting at night Laylat al-Qadr!
"Because Pengkin betrayal, his disciples," engkong story, either for that to how many thousands of times. I just nodded, never again asked with curiosity as the first time engkong menuturkannya. "Why, Kong? Why Pengkin betray his master?"
Time engkong chuckled. He did not immediately answer, but busy rolling tobacco that I had to ask twice. Engkong eyes sparkled, as if it enjoyed the story of impatience waiting for the follow-up.
"Because of the fire horse was selected as the rider of Indra. But the teacher had been raised Pengkin paramilitary unit leader of the students," she whispered as she sucks engkong tobacco lintingannya deeply. Fragrant tobacco smoke snaking then slowly drifted out through the small window open cabin. I tried to imagine the disappointment Pengkin and secretly became restless. The night wind a little tight, wet air delivered from the yard.
I could see the figure Pengkin backyard slipping into the small surau. Occasionally shadow bobbing his body between meetings of cassava plants. Half moon appeared, disappeared behind thick clouds. Faint glimpse of light that illuminates her face, showing his face was so tense.
I continued to follow the steps that skinny guy until he reached the back door surau. I saw he looked left-right-back quickly. After making sure no one, skinny man hurried knock on the door, "Teachers .... Teachers, it's me, Pengkin."
"The teacher once again ...," he called. The wind seemed to freeze. Long enough, just open the door slowly.
"Get in!" a deep voice whispered. Pengkin quickly slipped into, and the door closed immediately.
The room was dark, there is only a small flame of a lamp that seems to lack of oil in the corner. But I can recognize the figure of a turbaned old man sitting cross-legged in the middle of the room. Immediately dropped Pengkin sitting in front of him.
"Are you sure no one saw you?" turbaned old man's voice sounded sharp. Pengkin just nodded. I felt the aura in the room was very uncomfortable.
"Are you ready to do it, right?" turbaned old man asked. Pengkin not answer, just looked down.
"Pengkin! Answer me!" turbaned old man barked.
"I do not have the heart, Teacher ...," wry voice sounded Pengkin.
"He's a famous warrior who worship everywhere. And so proud, as if only one winner! While you're just a snot!" turbaned man snorted, "He thinks no invention of fire horses, he could be like now." I felt my whole body sweat because gerahnya room.
"But he's my best friend anyway," said Pengkin weak, is still down.
"I do not like your attitude of surrender, Pengkin! You think he really consider you a friend?" turbaned old man's voice trembled hold anger. Oil lamp fire suddenly went out, and the room becomes stuffy.
"Do it tomorrow night! We will be attacked on time evening. That's an order!" turbaned old man sternly, "You understand, my son?" "Yes, Teacher ...," Pengkin replied softly.
"It's over and I said, do not call me teacher if we were alone. Call my father," turbaned old man's voice suddenly changed gently. And I know, in the dark Pengkin down deeper.
BUT engkong still talk about how disappointed turbaned old man at the betrayal of his disciples, Pengkin.
"He must be so pathetic to see death for treason Pengkin," engkong said sadly, "The disappearance and death of the fire horse, Indra had crippled the power of the students and then hit the heart of Sheikh Maulana."
Lalu engkong kembali mengisahkan peristiwa pada malam dua puluh delapan Ramadan itu. I feel so lonely night. Nothing else sesayup sound. Any animal that night as soundly, even the wind seemed to die. From the small surau at the edge of the forest, only a faint sound of people to teach so sweet and perfect. Playing like a junk boat in the middle of the ocean.
"But before the early morning," said engkong like holding something, "The silence was broken by the din of hooves and the shouts." I held tight. I imagined hundreds of stem torch row on horseback is moving quickly toward the small surau at the edge of the forest. Pace of the horse's legs were getting louder and louder.
"Come out Sheikh Maulana! You're surrounded!" once the group arrived at the surau, the white infidel leaders immediately stepped forward and shouted loudly on horseback. But no answer from the surau, other than playing the Koran sound melodious. Hundreds of horses whinny nervously. White infidel leaders seemed to lose patience, "Sheikh Maulana, come out and surrender all right, you'll kuampuni! Or we have to break the worship!"
"No bother," suddenly a voice said quietly. Startled, everyone turned to the bar in the upper right rambutan surau page. A turbaned old man since time immemorial have been standing under a tree.
"Sheikh Maulana, we caught you!" shouted the leader of chilled white infidel, "Take him!" Turbaned old man moved forward braced.
I saw hundreds of the sword, machetes, and axes raised, reflecting the torchlight red snaking malignant. I saw hundreds of bows and guns mounted. But do not have to tell you how hundreds of sharp blade, a machete or an ax flashed, and how hundreds of arrowheads and bullets flew after Sheikh Maulana refused to be taken. Maybe engkong right, Sheikh Maulana too sure about the toughness and bombang stance wapak kebalnya, so that when hundreds of the sword, machetes, axes, bow eyes, and the bullet lodged in his body, he still stared in disbelief. He should have shouted the name of God or repeating two kalimah creed, but his body collapsed without a sound trigger. I'm sure, she knew someone had leaked the secret miracle ....
Ai, either to the keberapa thousand times, in such a way engkong looked after telling. And I understand the meaning of that look. I do not sense, but I also do not want to be a fire penunggung second horse after Indra. I do not want to be warriors traveling in carrier nujumannya old prophecy. If possible, I just want to be like Pengkin, disappeared into the bleak saga and never expected to go back. "If the only possible ...," I sighed, glancing at my legs are too small and soft spineless


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