Cerpen: Peri Puck, Pertiwi & Bunga Cinta (Faery Puck, Ol’ Earth & the Love Flower)

DWIBAHASA – BILINGUAL

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Bahasa Indonesia

Peri Puck, Pertiwi & Bunga Cinta

Labodalih Sembiringditulis 1820 Januari 2002 | dimuat di kolom Kakilangit majalah sastra Horison edisi Mei 2002 di bawah nama pena Ali Depari

 

Di bawah pokok randu aku bertahiyat menghabiskan sisa hari. Kapuk yang membelesak pecah dari kulit yang kering diterbangkanlah oleh angin berputar-putar. Gemericik sungai yang jauh, simfoni serangga yang riuh. Warna sore hinggap di pucuk-pucuk segala pohon. Ini hutan tempat bertahan, dan aku berangsur-angsur menuju tidur.

Ada angin yang tak biasa datang beserta suara denting-denting kaca. Cukup merdu untuk membuatku membuka sebelah mata lalu yang kedua untuk melihat sesosok mambang—yang aku yakin tadi melesat terbang—mendarat pelan. Bergesekanlah daun-daun kering yang terhembus ringan ketika kakinya menjejak tanah. Aku bangkit terheran-heran merasakan hutan dicekam keganjilan sebab tak ada lagi derik dan siul serangga, habis dibawa angin terakhir.

Siapa kau? Kau aneh. Tak pernah kutemui mambang yang kulitnya jambon seperti kau punya. Rambut pun kuning keriting.

“Bukan kuning, ini pirang. Dan tidakkah Nyonya merasa terkesima melihat peri tampan seperti saya?”

Bukan, bukan tampan. Tapi dia lucu. Kepalanya oval seperti telur burung unta, matanya sipit dengan bola mata hijau warna daun pisang muda. Hidungnya kecil dengan batang yang ramping, bangir yang terlalu. Dan bibir itu, garisnya selalu melengkung ceria. Badannya jauh lebih kecil dari aku sebab ia dari bangsa peri yang kulitnya berpendar-pendar seperti kunang-kunang yang suka bermain di rawa-rawa. Sepasang sayap transparan disilang-silangi urat-urat bagai serabut akar keperakan.

Aku tanya siapa kau, peri dari jenis lelaki?

“Nama saya Puck.”

Kau tidak pantas dipanggil ‘Pak’! Umurmu baru sebagai peri remaja, bukan yang bapak-bapak.

“Hhh. Nyonya, nama saya Puck. Puck si usil, Puck utusan cinta, Puck yang penuh gairah asmara. Saya lahir dari relung bunga anggrek merpati, hanya minum sari-sari paling murni, paling dipercaya di antara peri-peri. Saya Puck!”

Terserahlah. Pak! Apa maksudmu mengganggu tidurku?

“Jangan begitu, Nyonya. Anda tadi kan belum terlelap. Namun saya memang butuh bantuan dari Anda. Begini, sayap sepasang yang mulai lusuh ini telah berhari-hari membawa saya melintasi laut-laut guna menjelajah tanah-tanah hijau yang diharapkan tumbuh di sana satu harta dunia yaitu Bunga Cinta. Mungkinkah Nyonya mengetahui keberadaannya di hutan ini?

Bunga Cinta katanya? Fenomena yang membawaku balik pada usia muda kala aku masih ceria dan sedikit tahu. Tahap kesatu hidupku, ya masih kuingat dan biar kuceritakan padamu.

Kami tujuh saudari, bertugas menjaga tujuh mata angin hutan ini. Hutan yang tak melulu hijau tapi warna-warni. Hidup pula di sini berbatang-batang Bunga Cinta. Satu pokok ia hanya setangkai. Kera-kera gemar melalap kelopaknya, dan burung madu suka asyik menghisap nektarnya. Kami pun suka memasak daunnya dengan campuran daun kari dan santan kelapa. Yang menakjubkan dari Bunga Cinta: bila kau petik tangkainya, tak lama ia akan memanjang lagi. Dari ujungnya menyembul getah putih yang bakal malih jadi kelopak-kelopak. Ia tak pernah layu, tak akan habis, malah akan semakin banyak kalau getah putih tadi tumpah ke tanah dan tumbuh jadi tangkai baru diapit dua daunnya. Hutan ini dulunya tenteram, dan lebih luas, disebutlah ia zamrud khatulistiwa.

Sampai suatu masa, ketika seekor jembalang api berwujud ular bertanduk lima lepas dari teralis neraka. Ia melata menyusup ke hutan ini melalui penjuru mata angin kedelapan. Kami mulai merasakan kemuraman mencekam sebab banyak pohon-pohon tumbang jadi arang, semak-semak lebur jadi abu yang abu-abu, dan yang paling mengerikan dan tak pernah terbayangkan, satu demi satu dan demi satu Bunga-bunga Cinta leleh seperti getah damar yang masih lendir.

Saudari-saudariku mati satu-satu dalam sela waktu tak tentu. Liang-liang halus mereka hangus terpanggang. Aku tak mau seperti mereka maka aku bersembunyi di tepi kawah merapi. Tapi jembalang api yang sakti banyak tahu, ia bahkan menganggap dirinya Maha Tahu. Ia menangkapku, mendekapku, dan menatapku lekat-lekat. Dan aku tahu dia tangan kanan Iblis yang matanya lebih kilap dari kilat yang menyambar-nyambar. Penisnya seperti gading berkarat yang menembus sampai koyak-moyak hingga berceceran darah liang halus hitam pekat. Aku tak siap mati. Ia bilang aku takkan mati. Hanya saja setelah ia menikmati tubuhku dan menyerap tiap tetes energiku, aku terkutuk sebagai wanita buruk rupa berkulit penuh nanah beracun dengan tetek yang panjang dan sebesar lambung sapi.

“Saya tidak bisa tidak memperhatikan payudara Nyonya yang teramat gigantik.”

Ya, tapi mereka tidak mampu mengeluarkan susu.

“Lantas untuk apa keduanya?”

Di sebelah kanan si jembalang api menanamkan kutukannya. Dan di sebelah kiri aku menyimpan segala benda berharga yang tersisa: emas, perak, zamrud, krisopras, dan sedikit batu bara. Tinggal itu saja. Jadi tak ada lagi Bunga Cinta.

“Ke mana lagi harus saya cari?”

Entahlah, tetapi rasanya sang Iblis punya utusan di segala hutan. Kau harus mencari dengan sungguh-sungguh. Semoga masih ada Bunga Cinta terselip di antara gunung-gunung, atau sebatang masih kembang di suatu padang rumput.

“Bagaimana denganmu, Nyonya? Masihkah Anda punya cinta?”

Ha, ha, ha, ha. Kau jangan pura-pura tidak sadar kalau aku ini buruk rupa, Peri. Dan makananku kini adalah tetumbuhan yang menyerap sari-sari mayat, udara di sini telah terpolusi dusta dan pengkhianatan besar-besaran. Kukatakan padamu, sekalipun ada satu Bunga Cinta tumbuh di sini, pasangan-pasangan kekasih takkan terangsang karenanya. Ia bukan lagi afrodisiak melainkan racun dengki.

Jeda.

Tak mendapatkan yang dicari, Peri Puck pergi. Namun ia sempat berjanji, “Kalau saya temukan Bunga Cinta itu, akan saya berikan satu untukmu, teteskan getahnya di mata kekasih idaman, dan saya berdoa semoga Nyonya mengenal lagi apa artinya cinta.”

Pertiwi, panggil saja aku Pertiwi.

*

Inilah jeda saat peri Puck belum mendengungkan sayap-sayapnya dan berangkat, kisah tak berakhir sebelum ia berjumpa penghuni hutan yang lain.

Pertama-tama, datanglah segerombolan tikus wirog hitam yang baunya menyengat mirip tahi jempol kaki. Mereka mengendus-endus pokok-pokok randu, liang-liang semut, dan bahkan kakiku. Aku harus menyepaknya sebelum ia mengerat jempolku (padahal jempolku amat bau, tapi mereka memang suka aroma busuk). Seekor tikus yang perutnya buncit dan paling besar berjalan angkuh padaku. Ia melirik Puck sejurus dan tak lagi. Kepalanya terangkat sombong, hidung panjangnya hampir tegak lurus menantang langit.

“Perempuan, kau masih bertahan.”

Benar, dengan harta-hartaku.

“Dadamu makin menggembung. Makin banyak yang kau kutip dan kau gali lalu kau kempitkan di balik dadamu?”

Matamu saja yang makin membelesak. Sesungguhnya tetekku kian kurus dihisap para kera. Kau sudah menyembunyikan semua buah-buahan dan menangkapi semua ikan. Kau bahkan cuma menyisakan mereka serangga, dan tak ada lagi butir-butir kelapa untukku. Kau menyimpan semua rapi-rapi di lubang bawah tanahmu. Rupanya perutmu belum cukup besar, ha?

“Kamu cuma mengigau, Pertiwi. Silakan kau cari. Aku tidak menyembunyikan apa pun.”

Tikus-tikus lain menarik sesudut seringai dan terkekeh. Ketika tikus terbesar mendesis, mereka semua diam.

“Pertiwi, aku tahu kau menyimpan banyak di tetek kirimu. Kenapa kau tidak bermurah hati dan memberikannya saja pada kami?”

Untuk apa? Logam dan batu-batu tidak bisa dimakan.

“Tapi sedap dipandang.”

Tak akan kuberikan! Dan aku peringatkan, kalau ada yang berani coba-coba mencuri hartaku ketika aku tertidur, maka akan kuhancurkan sarang kalian di tanah busut seberang kali itu.

“Dengan apa? Dengan tetek-tetekmu yang sebesar gajah bengkak! Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!”

Mereka terus berjalan melewati kami sambil tertawa terbahak-bahak. Aku menangkap tatap iba di wajah si peri. Tapi aku bilang aku tak apa-apa, karena yang lebih menyedihkan adalah nasib para kera. Kau harus melihat mereka. Maka kubawa dia ke sisi lain hutan, tempat segala pepohonan meranggas, ada yang rubuh, ada pula yang hampir mati. Bahkan semak-semak kering semua. Kubilang, kera-kera tinggal di sini dan tikus-tikus hidup senang di Hutan Hijau.

Kera-kera kecil berlarian mengerumuniku dan bergelayut pada sebelah tetekku untuk mencucupi tetes-tetes darah sehingga aku merintih-rintih perih. Kusambut kera tertua dan memperkenalkannya pada Puck. Kemudian kami meminta dia bercerita. Tertunduk kami mendengarkan.

Syahdan para kera hidup damai di Hutan Hijau. Mereka menanam jagung dan buah-buahan. Gubuk-gubuk kecil dibangun di atas pohon rimbun. Anak-anak bermandi-mandi di sungai dekat bapak-bapak mereka menangkapi jurung dan sepat. Para ibu akan menanti mereka di dalam gubuk mempersiapkan makanan atau pada bercengkerama di dahan-dahan. Hari-hari mereka adalah senyuman dan canda riang, pekik-pekik gembira, suka cita.

“Tikus-tikus dulu tak berkuasa atas kami. Sebelum sempat mencuri kami sudah menghalau jauh mereka untuk kembali ke liang-liangnya. Tapi jembalang api datang dan memberi tikus-tikus itu kekuatan. Gigi-gigi mereka dihadiahi selaput racun. Malam itu mereka berbondong-bondong merusak kediaman kami, banyak yang mati, tak terhitung jumlahnya. Agar tak bau mereka membakar mayat-mayat, padahal tubuh tikus-tikus itu bau juga, bisa muntah bila dekat-dekat mereka. Dan kami terusir kemari, berusaha membangun kembali. Kami bercocok tanam dan membuat kolam. Tapi tikus-tikus itu datang mencuri buah-buahan yang kami tanam dan segala bahan pangan, berulang kali. Sampailah kami pada keputusan bahwa percuma kami menebar benih kalau tidak bisa menuai hasilnya. Kami menyerah. Begitulah kami yang bodoh dan lemah ditindas tikus-tikus rakus. Kami cuma makan cacing dan serangga. Jika ada buah-buahan segar kami berebutan cepat. Tak jarang kami berkelahi untuk seupil makanan enak. Dan kami berhutang budi pada Pertiwi yang membagikan nutrisi demi penyambung hidup anak-anak kami.”

Tapi jeda itu hampir berakhir, kini… Puck menawarkan atau lebih tepat meminta dengan agak mendesak agar aku ikut dengannya ke negeri kecantikan. Tempat orang takkan dikekang sakit hatinya sendiri. “Kenapa, kenapa Nyonya bersedia dipenjara air mata lalu menahan pilu yang mengunyah cuil demi cuil eksistensimu?”

Jawabku, kenapa kau mengira aku bisa terbang di belakangmu sementara aku adalah nyawa hutan ini? Peri sayang, kau bukan El Maut bukan? Ha ha, kau bahkan tak bisa bedakan mana nyawa mana badan. Pergilah, tak usah ingat aku lagi juga tempat ini. Tak cocok kenangan akan Pertiwi dengan kau peri penuh nuansa ceria.

Bibir Puck menggeletar. Ia peri yang masih muda tapi ia mengerti dan mulai menangis. Bulir-bulir air mata menitik ke tanah menyentak debu-debu terhalus, kemudian berubah menjadi berlian dengan ribuan faset. Kupungut batu-batu bening itu.

“Ambillah, Nyonya. Air mataku belum tersentuh udara pengab hutan ini. Simpan dekat jantungmu. Walau tak saya ingat Nyonya, tapi ingatlah saya.”

Dan….

Ia tiada lagi di sini.

Jengkerik mulai berderik-derik mengantarnya. Di kejauhan suara sungai sayup-sayup mengarus, seakan-akan tadi ia membeku diam-diam. Lalu kudengar desir angin menyampaikan desis makhluk lain yang berkuasa di hutan ini. Melata ia menyenggol-nyenggol batang pohon dan melumat ranting-ranting kering. Sebab tubuhnya dibanjiri lendir panas yang bisa membuat batu jadi bubur namun berkuasa pula memantrainya kembali seperti semula.

Di hadapanku, ia berbicara dalam suaranya yang serak.

“Kau lama sebelum ajalmu, tapi kenapa kau tidak menyerah saja!”

Kau pun lama sebelum ajalmu, tapi neraka membayang di wajahmu. Lantas kenapa kau tidak bertobat saja? Kenapa kau tidak bertobat saja? Kenapa kau tidak bertobat saja, senyampang senja yang kesumba masih panjang mengambang?

“Karena… ceritaku belum selesai.”

* * *

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English

Faery Puck, Ol’ Earth & the Love Flower

Labodalih Sembiring | written January 18–20, 2002 | original title “Peri Puck, Pertiwi & Bunga Cinta”, published in Kakilangit, literary magazine Horison‘s student section in May 2002 under nom de plume Ali Depari | translation by the highly talented Nor Huda Mohd. Izam a.k.a. Nana.

 

Under the silk cotton trees I greeted the rest of my days. Fibres that had split from their bolls soared in the twirling wind. The ringing of a river afar; cicadas sang in a rising symphonic bar. The colour of dusk rested on the tip of every branch. This forest was a place for survival, and I gradually turned toward sleep.

There was a rare breeze that blew along with the chimes of glass. Melodic enough to coax one eye open and then the other, to see the figure of a sprite, which I was sure flew in, softly landed. Dry leaves rustled where his feet grazed the ground. I rose in amazement sensing the oddity that held the forest silent from its usual creaks and whistles of insects, all carried away by the last wind.

Who are you? You’re strange. Never have I seen an apparition with skin as pink as yours. And such curly, yellow hair, too.

“Yellow it is not, but blond! Hath not amazement dawned upon ye, Madam, for thine old eyes to chance upon so handsome a faery as I?”

No, not handsome—adorable. His oval head was not unlike an ostrich egg; those squinty eyes were as green as a young banana leaf. His nose was dainty on a slender bridge, with an overly pointed tip. And those lips, the lines were forever curled in a convivial smile. His body was much smaller than mine, for he was from a fairy race whose skin glowed luminescent like the fireflies that liked to play in swamp ponds. The pair of transparent wings were crisscrossed by veins like silver, fibrous roots.

I asked who are you, man fairy?

“Puck is my name.”

Such a filthy mouth! For a fairy so young, and yet be corrupted by age.

“Ha, ha, ha. Madam, the name’s Puck. Puck the mischievous, Puck the romance bearer, Puck the renowned lover. Born in the depth of a dove orchid’s petal wraps, drinks only from the purest pollen taps, the most trusted among my peer faery chaps. I’m Puck!”

Puck—whatever! What do you mean by disturbing my sleep?

“Do not fret so, Madam. Thou were not even up to twenty of your forty winks. I am however in need of a hand. Lookee here, this fading pair of wings have for days transported me across seas to traverse turquoise soils in the hopes of finding earth’s most prized flora: the Love Flower. Wouldst thou be in the knowledge of such a treasure in this forest, Ma’am?”

The Love Flower, he said? The phenomenon that took me back to my younger days when I was still merry and green. The first stages of my life, yes, of which I still remember and let me recount the tale.

Seven sisters were we, each a guardian for the seven wind-points of The Great Forest. A forest that was not monotonous green, but kaleidoscopic. The Love Flower stalks grew in abundance here. Each tree for each flower. The monkeys favoured the purple petals, and the hummingbirds hung by their nectar. We sisters preferred the leaves ourselves and boiled them in curry-and-coconut sauce. Behold the wondrous Love Flower: When you picked one, it grew back in an instant. From the severed end emerged white wax which would turn into fresh buds. It never wilted, never died, but multiplied every time the white wax so happened to fall upon the ground and blossomed between two leaves. This forest was once peaceful, and more spacious, and was called the Emeralds of the Equator.

Until one time, when a fire demon in the shape of a five-horned snake escaped the pits of hell. It swept into the forest through the eighth wind-point. We felt gloom creeping in and saw trees falling down and turning into coals; the bush roots were smelted into the greyest soot; and what was most horrible and unimaginable was that one by one and by one the Love Flowers melted like slimy resin.

My sisters fell dead in succession within unpredictable periods of time. Their fine pores burnt and baked. I did not wish to end the same way so I hid by the crater of Merapi. But the fiendish fire demon knew a lot that he bestowed upon himself the title of The Omniscient. He seized me, squeezed me and stared deep into my eyes. His penis like a rusty ivory thrust and tore until it scattered thick, black blood that oozed from my fine pores. I was not ready to die. He said I would not yet die. But after he had had his way with my body and ravaged every drop of my energy, I was cursed to remain a hag with pus-filled skin and breasts so long and big as the udders of a cow.

“I cannot deny to have noticed the gargantuan bosoms perched atop thee, Madam.”

Yes, but no milk can flow within its ducts.

“Then what, pray tell, art their use?”

The right one nests the curse of the fire demon. And clamped under this left one is where I keep all valuables that remained: gold and silver, emeralds and jades, and what was left of the coal stones. Those are all. And not a trace of the Love Flower.

“What nooks and crannies need I peruse, then?”

I don’t know, but I was told the Seven Princes of Hell have their messengers in every forest. You shall have to seek arduously. May there still be a Love Flower hidden between valleys, or a stalk safe in a grassland somewhere.

“How about you, Madam? Does love still reside in thine eyes?”

Ha, ha, ha, ha. Do not pretend not to notice how atrocious I look, Faery. I now feed upon plants that absorb the juice of corpses and breathe the air polluted by lies and treachery of titanic proportions. I’ll tell you this: Should you find a Love Flower blooming here, lovers would not idly fall in lust because of it. It is no more an aphrodisiac but a cancerous spite.

Pause.

Not finding what he was seeking, Faery Puck left. Yet he warranted a promise, “Should I find the Love Flower, I shall furnish thee my surplus. Drip a drop of its wax upon the eyes of your dreamy betrothed, and pray to the gods that you would once again appreciate the meaning of love, Madam.”

My name is Pertiwi Ol’ Earth. You can call me Pertiwi.

*

This was the pause before the wings of Faery Puck buzzed in departure; the story did not end before he met the other forest dwellers.

First came a group of black field rats which stank of the dirt found between mortal peasant toes. They sniffed out cotton trees, the tunnels of anthills and even my feet. I had to kick one away before it started chewing on my toe (admittedly my toe was rank, but they were fond of the stinking aroma). A rat with a distended belly, the biggest of the pack, arrogantly marched toward me. It glanced at Puck, and then no more. It raised its head haughtily; its long nose pointed almost straight up in defiance of the sky.

“Wench, you are still surviving.”

True, with my possessions.

“Your boobs are ballooning, I see. An increase in what you collect and dig up and squeeze between your lumps?”

It’s your eyes that have bulged. Truth be told my chests have shrunk, sucked by the monkeys. You have salted away all the fruits and trawled all the fish. You only leave them some measly bugs, and thus ending my share of coconut corpuscles. You stowed them neatly in your underground burrows. Clearly your stomach is not big enough, ha?

“You’re delirious, Ol’ Earth. I dare you to look for ‘em. I hide nothing.”

The other rats pulled their lips in a grimace and sniggered. When the biggest rat hissed, they fell quiet.

“Ol’ Earth, I know you have lots of stuff under your left tit. How about being a sweetheart and handing ‘em to us?”

To what purpose? Metal and stones are not fit for consumption.

“But they sure look good.”

I’ll never give them away! And heed my warning, shall anyone dare to run off with my treasures while I am in slumber, I swear to shatter your hideout under the anthill mounds by the riverside.

“With what? With your mammaries that could put an elephant to shame! Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!”

They traipsed away past us laughing uproariously. I caught a sad stare on the little fairy’s face. But I told him I was not affected, for what was more saddening was the fate of the monkeys. You must see them. So I took him to the other side of the forest, where all types of trees could be found, some were weak, some on the brink of death. Even the bushes were dried up. I said, the monkeys live here and the rats live luxuriously in The Green Forest.

Small monkeys rushed to crowd upon me and clutched one of my breasts to suckle drips of blood until I was writhing in pain. I welcomed the eldest monkey and introduced her to Puck. Then we asked her to tell us her tale. We listened with our heads hung low.

There was once a time when the monkeys lived peacefully in the Green Forest. They planted corn and fruits. Small huts were built on lush trees. The children bathed in the river under the watchful eye of their fathers who fish for jurung and sepat. Their mothers waited for them in huts, preparing foods or gossiping among the branches. Their days were filled with smiles and cheerful laughter, happy shrieks, joy.

“Way back then, the rats had no power upon us. We would drive them away back into their burrows if they attempted to steal anything. But the fire demon came and gave the rats power. Their teeth were gifted with a poisonous membrane. That night they skulked in herds and plundered our homes; many died, in numbers uncountable. To rid of the stench they cremated the bodies, although the odour from their bodies was just as foul—you could throw up just being near them. And thus we were driven out here, trying to rebuild a place to live. We planted seeds and dug up pools. But the rats stole in and took away all the fruits we planted and all our food supplies, time and again. Until we reached the conclusion that it was wasteful for us to plant seeds if we were not to reap the yields by ourselves. We gave up. That was how our stupid and weak race came to be oppressed by the greedy rats. Now we eat only worms and bugs. If any fresh fruits were found we would race each other. It is not uncommon that we would fight for a bite of a tasty morsel. And we owe our thanks to Pertiwi who delivers the much needed nutrition to our children.”

But that pause was nearing its end, and now… Puck bargained, nay, more accurately he begged me to come with him to the country of beauty. A land whose people were not held back by the bitterness in their own hearts. “Why, why wouldst thou be so readily imprisoned by tears and keep such sorrow that maims bit by bit of thy existence?”

I answered, where did this notion come from that I would be able to fly behind you when I am the energy that holds this forest? Dear Faery, you are not my dear pal the Grim Reaper, are you? Ha, ha, you can’t even see the difference between soul and body. Leave, do not keep memories of me nor this place. Befriending an Ol’ Earth like me suits you not, my cheery fairy friend.

Puck’s lips trembled. He was a young fairy but he understood and started crying. Pearly tears fell down and disturbed the finest dusts, and singly transformed into a-thousand-faceted diamonds. I collected the translucent stones.

“Hold on to them, Madam Pertiwi. My tears had not been touched by this forest’s musty air. Tend to them near your heart. Thou may later be far from my memories, but please remember me.”

And then…

He was here no more.

Crickets sent him off with their creaks. From a distance the sound of a river faintly flowed on, as if it had been quietly frozen before. Then I heard the whispery winds disclose the hissing of the reigning beast, slithering and shoving tree trunks and smashing down dry twigs. Because its body was flooded by hot lava that could turn even rocks into porridge, yet it was powerful enough to conjure them back into their original form.

Standing in front of me, it boomed in a raspy voice.

“Thou art far from death, but why not just surrender!”

Death is far from you too, but I see hell shadowed on your face. So why don’t you repent? Why don’t you repent? Why don’t you repent, supposing the russet twilight still freely floats?

“Because… my story has yet to end.”

 

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2 responses to “Cerpen: Peri Puck, Pertiwi & Bunga Cinta (Faery Puck, Ol’ Earth & the Love Flower)

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