The horrse fire

STILL a lot of people who secretly find horses of fire. I know that. They move like shadows, crossed at the walls. Bercuriga each other and of course, keep the meeting secret. Who are they? Among themselves was, perhaps, did not know each other than just guessing. Ah, the fire horse, horse sihiran! Male horse that, supposedly, all the red feathers like a fire burning, with her fiery sulai ....
"Every time a horse through the fire," said engkong, "It's as waterspout was created." I was amazed and tried to imagine it. Although engkong said, the horse was too fast. Almost no one can see it clearly. He always passed like the wind, so only just flashed red shadow that caught the eye.
Well, actually this saga has been developed in our village, and apparently no one who still cared. He is like a stale story, after a hereditary told. Although still to settle. Perhaps only the still loyal engkong grow in my head almost every night before bed. As if he had an obligation to maintain the saga, and also obliged to grow them in my head.
No matter how many thousands of times already, he told of the red horse. With his voice hoarse but steady, as if to bring engkong mestika horse from antahberantah country. And between sleep and waking, I seemed to hear the clatter of horse's hooves hammering the ground, is also a strong wind bolt that flashed from his body like an arrow released from a bow. Dashed off somewhere. Only the red shadow, yes, a red shadow. Increasingly blurred from my eyes are heavy with the sound of galloping feet away. Before sleeping soundly, I still had time to imagine the dust rising.
And I dreamed I saw the horse. Once proudly above the rock cliff overlooking the sea, while the sky the moon arch. The horses of fire, with a body like a fire burning, braying loudly, raising his front legs up high. Neigh-filled wounds, full of restless. Was chilling.
**
Pair of eyes white turbaned old man looked so nervous in the dim glow of the torch. I do not know how long he paced the small surau yard on the edge of the forest. Occasionally he looked up into the cloudy night sky, and then stroked his beard a half color. While his right hand which moves mengenggam endless rosary.
"It is through a third night, Teacher," one of the two young men sat silent in advance under a shady rambutan, a sudden noise. Turbaned old man did not answer, just kept pacing back and forth, counting the seed beads. Thin-bodied young man who spoke so embarrassed. The wind was blowing a little stronger, making the leaves rustle trees. That skinny young man shivered with cold, "Master ...."
"Shut up, Pengkin!" turbaned old man snapped a sharp glance. His face looked even more agitated in the bamboo torch flame liukan embedded in the page surau. The quiet night, suffocating. There was no sound of crickets or frogs. Turbaned old man again looked up to heaven, sighed disappointed because what he was waiting for did not appear. The sky was almost covered with clouds, only a few weak blinking stars.
"Teacher ...," finally one young man who ventured to speak again, of course carefully," Are we going to continue to wait, what if ...," his words stopped, his eyes no less nervous.
"We'll wait a little longer, Indra," said the turbaned old man firmly. Indra just nodded. All three became quiet again. The wind this time seemed frozen, the trees standing stiff like alien beings on guard.
"Teacher! Look!" Pengkin suddenly shouted, pointing toward the sky. Turbaned old man suddenly looked up and Indra. There was a wry smile on his face stretching wrinkled old man turban, he hastily put into a bag of beads green robe. Mumble mouth saying anything either.
"Where is the statue of the horse?" he asked, somewhat breathlessly, holding out his hand to Pengkin. Skinny man was rushed to open the bundles of cloth which always disandangnya. Pengkin hand trembled slightly when he pulled the object from the bundle it. Form of a wooden statue of a horse from an inch size, red protruding through the fabric. Immediately held it out to the horse statue to the turbaned old man who received quickly. Still muttering, turbaned old man statue was placed carefully in front of his feet.
"Remember, what happens tonight is the secret of the three of us. Do not ever once in a while you tell anyone, or we all get hurt. What secret spell." Turbaned old man at his pupil, his face tense, his voice in a way threatening. Pengkin faces tense and Indra come. Both nodded stiffly.
Turbaned old men look back up into the sky. Crescent moon gleaming silver. Beautiful but feels tense. The old man raised his hands, looked up like a prayer. Long enough, before finally slowly reversed his palms facing the statue of a horse that is located on the ground at his feet.
I heard the old man say "bismillah" and a series of quick sentences that did not understand her lips.
"Give me a torch!" he shouted. And I woke up with sweat all over the flood. I saw the empty bed next to me, no engkong. Ah, where engkong? Both my eyes are still heavy, but I wanted to pee.
**
YOU call the horse "Sapar Maulana". I do not know, in your dreams is to how many you've heard the name mentioned. By whom and where it is, you probably forgot. But you seemed so sure, the horse was created in Sapar, when the crescent moon that looked so elegant grim and frightening on the sky. Preceded lafadz "bismillah", you recite the mantra that somehow tamer since when do you think outside conscious. The red horse neighing loudly. The bushes parted by strong winds roared when the horse toward you. Harden your face for a moment the water, eyes wide, probably between awe and fear. But when it reached the red horse in front of you, you jumped swiftly. Whoa! Whoa! Hiiyaaaa ...! With swift and light, you jumped onto his back and grabbed a fire that burned sulainya. Hiiiyaaaaa ...! You get kicked off the horses of fire, her legs raised and loud high-pitched whinny from the muzzle before it shot forward like an arrow. Through the bushes and trees.
I was stunned. Can not believe you're so handsome, like a roaring Indra to battle with a machete in his right hand a stone, her eyes burning and shining faces washed water for ablution. There's evening call to prayer echoes the tune sharpening the fire horse whinny, and I seemed to come back to see the infidels and traitors to the white of a mess, falling rock struck by a sharp cleaver or thrown the horse's foot flames. Thrown bodies. Red color scattered over the bush, the color of blood and fire knotted.
"Horses sihiran fire horse! Take me to my enemy, my enemy, we annihilated all the evil witch ancestor land! Sacked lunch, kicked the night!" Indra shouted aloud.
Ah, as has been written, every time ditebaskan stone machetes, a body covered in blood would collapse. And horses of fire incarnate sedeng horse, racing to and fro like a raven arrowheads. Flashed like a shadow, like a howling wind. War banners on fire in the middle of the desert shrubbery. Swords, machetes, spears, whips kept crossed, like racing with Isha prayer cycles. I saw Indra kept pushing forward the siege of the white infidels and traitors. Pellet-dikibasnya bullets flying all round the stone machetes, a half-circle. Her face was bright like the full moon. Yes, as the prophecy of the teacher, every time the horses snorting fire, one certainly lives flying.
But I saw a familiar figure slipped in the middle of the enemy ranks. Her face was pale as bloodless. Yes, I recognized the figure as Pengkin. His body was obviously shaky in the back of a dark horse when the horse against the white infidel leaders who faced no less pale. I do not know what is whispered, the night was too noisy by the clatter and bang of metal against bullets. When the black horse shot forward line, Pengkin increasingly shaky. One was a traitor who handed the torch greeted him nervously. I know, Indra would pull the rope horses of fire. I know right! Fire horse neighing loudly and raised his front legs up. "You!" Indra hissed in surprise. Pengkin still shaky on horseback. Both looked at each other. Indra was shocked face slowly turned red, the red in the light of