When She Was

When she was one she learned what life is. It was bright and beautiful and it was all that matters.

When she was two she learned what family is. It was warm and cozy and she wouldn't trade it with anything else.

When she was three she learned what friend is. They were strange at first but she learned to laugh with them.

When she was four she learned what school is. 

When she was five she learned what music is. It made her heart went fuzzy and made her body turned around and around.

When she was six she learned what glasses is. She was introduced to a new companion that would accompany her for the rest of her life. It never left her face ever since.

When she was seven she learned what the world is. She fulfilled one of her biggest dream and there laid her photos in front of the Great Wall of China on top of her desk. 

When she was eight she learned what mockery is. She spent her days chasing those who made fun of her. 

When she was nine she learned what love is. She could never forget what being kicked on the leg feels like. She would also never forget what it really meant.

When she was ten she learned what best friend is. They fought and they hurt each other badly. Yet here they were years later laughing about it. 

When she was eleven she learned what home is. It was the place where she felt warm. She was never alone.

When she was twelve she learned what story is. She was introduced to a new world. She vowed never to abandoned it for the rest of her life.

When she was thirteen she learned what fake is. She was fake and deep down she was not okay. She saw the world was cruel and those around her were fake. She found solace in her stories and there she was sitting under the table, alone.

When she was fourteen she learned what responsibility mean. She loved it and she always tried her best to hearten those around her. All she ever wanted to do was help and there she was running with her small laptop tugged on her arm.

When she was fifteen she learned what pain is. 

When she was sixteen she learned what death is. There she was hanging in her closet with her eyes wide open and tongue sticking out. 

..

..

..

..

((No, she's not dead. I just want to make it sound cliche))

Sang Penari

Alkisah malam itu ia kembali menari. 

Sang gadis pendiam yang tak ubahnya seorang bisu. Mungil dan kecil. Hanya satu dua kali mencicit 'ya' dan 'tidak'. Oh, semua kenal gadis itu. Yang kalau duduk ada di ujung sana. Aku pun tahu. Namun di saat yang sama aku juga tak tahu. Tahu nama. Tahu siapa. Cuma itu.

Pada malam bisu tak ada yang menduga ia menari. Kakinya bernyanyi dengan tiap perjumpaan dengan lantai dansa. Kekasih yang bergandeng tangan dengannya mahir gemilang. Mengangkat tubuh mungil tersebut ke atas langit malam. Aku mau menangis melihatnya menari. 

Yang lain hanya menggeleng-geleng kepala.

"Kau sebut ini apa?"

"Aku muak melihatnya."

"Duduklah kembali ke sudut sana dan berhenti mempermalukan dirimu sendiri."

"Cinta, malangnya nasibmu. Tak tahukah kamu kita siap tertawa?"

Lantas aku heran. Mengapa yang seindah itu bisa dicemooh sedemikian rupa. 

Aku berdiri. Dengan nyala api di mata dan mulut berbusa, aku berkata-kata.

"Kalian yang bodoh nian. Butakah kalian semua? Aku sebut ini tarian dan tak ada yang seindah ini. Lihatlah kedua kaki jenjangnya, mencipta gambar di muka lantai. Aku tak bilang ini menari. Aku mau katakan bahwa ini dekat dengan terbang. Tak bisakah kalian merasakannya? Atau aku yang bodoh karena berbicara dengan monyet yang tak tahu nilai estetika."

Aku malah dibalas dengan tatapan bingung. Heran aku dengan mereka semua. Mungkin benar mereka bodoh. Mereka perlahan berdiri kemudian menatapaku dengan rasa iba. Seakan akulah sang gadis mereka menepuk pundakku. Ganti air mata yang mengalir di tiap-tiap wajah. Aku dikelilingi oleh mereka dengan alis terangkat.

"Kamu tidak apa?" aku malah ditanya begitu. Aku disuguhi minum, ditepuk ratusan kali di bahu. Diberi kata "tenang" dan "tabah" ribuan kali. Barulah mereka mendorong kursi, mengangkatku ke atas ranjang dan menidurkanku di kamar.

Malamnya aku bermimpi lagi akan sang gadis. Kusaksikan lagi keindahan yang terlahir dari dirinya. Seakan tarian itu adalah dirinya. Indah adalah segala yang mengalir dalam dirinya. Malam itu aku turut menari bersamanya. Menempel bak bayangan. Aku penggemarnya sekarang. Aku mau jadi dia. Aku beri apa pun untuk jadi dia. 

Esoknya ia kembali jadi yang duduk di sudut. Kembali jadi sang gadis pendiam yang tak ubahnya seorang bisu. Mungil dan kecil. Hanya satu dua kali mencicit 'ya' dan 'tidak'. Oh, semua kenal gadis itu. Yang kalau duduk ada di ujung sana. Aku pun tahu. Namun di saat yang sama aku juga tak tahu. Tahu nama. Tahu siapa. Cuma itu.

Kemudian kali ini gadis lain berbicara di luar kamar. Aku tak sengaja mendengarnya dari dalam. 

"Aku kasihan dengan gadis itu. Kalau mobilnya tak ditabrak truk molen kemarin dulu sampai penyok mungkin ia masih bisa pakai sepatu. Sekarang kerjanya setiap hari hanya duduk di sudut. Hanya satu dua kali mencicit 'ya' dan 'tidak'. Oh, semua kenal gadis itu."

30 Day Writing Meme - Day 11

It's been a year since I last wrote about this 30 Day Writing Meme thing and I do sure have a real problem over something called 'finishing your story'. Yes, as you can guess, none of my story is finished now. The good thing is how I've managed to recreate Skye from scratch and it now has a better language and story. It turned into something Steampunk! Imagine that. Steampunk.

So 30 Day Writing Meme is something I've found in here. I made this with my friend and it's time (after a whole year, yes, i know) to continue and FINISH IT.

(Heck, this will be the only thing I could finish)

11. Who is your favorite character to write? Least favorite?

Oh, I really love this one. A great start.

Okay, my favorite character to write. It's definitely Reagen. Definitely, unequivocally and beyond any doubt, Reagen. I've written about him years ago. And yes, I still in love with him. His name still echoed in my head, though not in the exact frequency as it used to be years ago. But I still has this weird connection. He's so reachable. He's so easy for me to connect to.

So, a little background. Reagen has a rough childhood. He doesn't know who his father is and his mother kept on torturing him and his little sister. By some sort of way and I am certainly not telling you what that is, he killed his mother and his precious little sister that he loved so much. He lives his life in misery, thinking that he's a monster and everybody would hate him. And how could I relate to such thing? No, my parents don't torture me and I don't even have a little sister.

The thing is, in the story, Reagen grows up to be someone I called a liar. He put on this particular smile, a mask, that hide his true nature. That smile hides his sorrow and sadness and everybody loved him. That is where I could relate to him. In 7th grade and the beginning of 8th grade, I am him. I keep this smile that I think is not sincere. I just moved from my old house and things were different.

Then something happened in both Reagen's life and mine. In the story everybody hated him and knew what sort of a monster he was. That happened in my life as well, when everybody knew how much of a horrible person I am. Writing is my solitude. I kept on writing, most of it about Reagen and that's why I could relate to him so much. He was so real because I put my soul into him. When I write, I put a little bit of something within me into the character. Reagen is by far, the most alive of all. He is my greatest creation.

I really love him that this obsession turned into something really weird. Well, I would definitely named my son 'Reagen'. The name itself came from a book of babies' names. I just randomly pick it up, not knowing that he would be my favorite character of all. One thing that I remember clearly about Reagen is his weak smile. Not his mask, but this one particular smile that seemed weak. Something that you would give to someone in a good bye, or to encourage someone who'll lose in the end. That is how I always picture him. Sad and broken. He's always haunting me when I'm down.

I know a hell lot about him. It's not about how tall he is and what he like or what he doesn't like, but it's about how he would react to certain things. And I certainly know what would Reagen do in certain condition. Don't get me wrong, but he's not me entirely.

For the least, I don't know. I never truly hated my character. Maybe it's just those cameos that I quickly come up with without any real personality. That is just a name, not a character.

14/07/2013

((Pada suatu hari minggu))

kemudian pada suatu ketika domba tersebut kembali ke rumah