Inhabitants Of My Urban Realms 4

(short fiction #8)

That foreign city

Compared to most cities I’ve visited, this one feels calm…and oddly sleepy. Most of the creatures are apathetic to humans. One day, I said “Hi!” to a robot and a talking cat on a park. Their only respond was blank stare. Maybe I disturbed their chat and annoyed them. Maybe they were feeling sorry for me, a painfully awkward bugger.

Their apathy contributes to the city’s relative calmness. For foreigners, it’s a boring atmosphere. For me, it’s relaxing. Many cities cannot be described that way. It’s a highly-cultured city, also thanks to the non-humans.

Apart from the awkward encounter, I’d never interacted with them. Always saw them in galleries, museums, the downtown and even my university. They interacted with the humans, talking about arts and cultures, possibly planning their own projects. I’m always intrigued by the ones in my uni.

I don’t know why. Maybe because the youthful energy. Maybe they still have their idealism. Maybe I was just an asshole; I thought I was the only cultured youth out there. But, whatever the reasons, surrounded by artistic youths gives me colourful emotions.

It’s inspiring. I appreciate earthly creatures’ boundless sense of beauty. I heard students discussing films passionately. I witnessed students thrive in creative classes. Outside the classrooms, they thrived. Human-robot choirs. Sludges dance troupes. Ghostly slam poetry. Seen them all. To think that my uni didn’t (and still doesn’t) specialise in the arts. The Indonesian uni I dropped out from was similar minus the humility. If only I am more social.

The atmosphere also keeps slapping me (my face hasn’t adjusted to the pain). It reminds me of my own sloth. Sometimes, I dream about getting slaps by fellow students. I hope it stays as a dream. You don’t want non-humans to slap you. I’ve seen photos online.

Conclusions

Do I need one? Sighs. Can I let the sloth write it for me? No? Fine!

It can be concluded that different cities have different humans and non-humans. Yadda yadda yadda! Happy?

Inhabitants Of My Urban Realms 3

(short fiction #7)

My second city

It’s not my “home”, even though I was born there. A city where the creatures are both aloof and cultured. Very typical for a big ass city. This one in particular is notorious for the volatile relationship between humans and non-humans.

The humans are too eager to demolish old buildings. You know, the places where non-humans live! They love old buildings because of the aura and their good taste. It’s worsen that they are legally second-class citizens. Obviously, they rebel. Their bad deeds are similar to the ones in my hometown. Except, theirs are notoriously worse. A few times in the past, the city literally shut down for days. But, it’s not all sectarian.

Many are also model citizens. But, they are more visible. More recognition (it could have been higher, though). In fact, they belong to the elites, mingling with equally-snooty Homo Sapiens. Hate interacting with them, humans or not.

They are borderline narcissistic. They build sky-high monoliths in their backyards. Once a day, they climb to the top using the lift. They want to emphasise how others are beneath them. Worse, their arrogance is seen as confidence. I vomit every time I think about them. Even my vomit vomits; it shares my revulsion. But, I’m glad the old lady also shares it.

She, wearing Betawi kabaya this time, will levitate to the monoliths’ tops and slap those snooters. If only they install guard rails (safety regulations exist for a reason!).

Every fall is physically damaging. “Peasant” workshops repair the robots. The sludges need medicinal turds. The sorcerers are treated by their ghetto counterparts. The ghosts need resurrection. The recover may take weeks, months or even years. But, nothing is more painful the humiliation.

It’s rarely reported by the elites-owned media. The elites try really hard to protect each other…for selfish reasons obviously. But, everyone knows about their comeuppances. The elites may either ignore the public shaming or dismiss it as social jealousy. But, the shaming’s still exists and will always be.

Aaah, my schadenfreude.

Inhabitants Of My Urban Realms 2

(short fiction #6)

My first encounter with a non-human was life-changing. I was sitting on the grass, just having my morning walk at my favourite park when a sorcerer said, “good morning!”. Took me a while to properly reply. Apart from his purple eyes, he looked completely human. But, I still feared that he would transform me to a canine or worse, himself to one just to annoy me. Instead, he continued to a small talk:

“Do you always walk here?” He had a slight Eastern Javanese accent.

“Yes, I do. But, not everyday.” I was surprised by my lack of stuttering. I usually stutter when talking to strangers or anyone I’m uncomfortable with.

“It’s so quiet, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is.”

I don’t remember most of the conversation. Or maybe the writer (my creator) is just lazy. But, there are some that I always do:

“What do you do as a living?”, I asked.

“I teach applied magic.”

“Applied magic?”

Ya. I teach it at the polytechnic.”

“Magic can be taught?”

“Yes, it can. Everyone can learn it. You don’t have to be born with it.”

“Applied. What do you mean by applied?”

“It means it has practicality. Magic can be used to track criminals, protect our homes, control the unruly ghosts and even to make our foods tastier!”

“Wow!”, I replied profoundly.

“I’m more interested in teaching pure magic, actually.”

“Why?”

“It helps us in understanding the philsophical, social and cultural aspects of magic. Don’t get me wrong. I do think practicality is important. But, we should also thrive to understand everything, whether they grow money or not. If we don’t, we are proudly ignorant about our own world. Besides, pure and applied magic overlap with each other. Some branches of pure magic can have their practical use.”

“Where did you learn magic?”

“I attended a magical boarding school called C_S_ in Surabaya. Then, I got a bachelor’s degree from G_ university in Bandung and a Ph.D from F_P_ university in Boston.”

I tried to whistle. I forgot I couldn’t.

“Anyway, I have to go now.”

When I was already comfortable with him. We even hadn’t introduced our names!

He got up and said “bye” before he ran towards a pregnant hijabi lady, who was sitting at a nearby rusty bench. She got up and they off together.

I just sat there, contemplating my first encounter with a non-human. I muttered, “wow, not all of them are bad.”

Unexpectedly, an old lady in Malay kebaya appeared out of nowhere. “You think?”, she scorned before she slapped me hard. Then, she stormed off angrily, swearing in multiple languages under her breath.

I was 15. Old enough to reject stereotypes. I deserved the pain.

Inhabitants Of My Urban Realms 1

(short fiction #5)

Like most people, I spend my life living in the urban areas. I always deal inhabitants like mischievous sewer sludges, noisy scrap metal robots and sorcerers disguised as stray cats. Pollution, urban decay and deception. I wish I was a rural boy. I would’ve dealt with dragons, singing floras and magical sages. Strength, serenity and wisdom. I envy village dwellers.

Actually, that is a lie. I barely deal with those urban creatures. I am an indoor person. When I go out, I use the safe routes. The robots are attracting attention with their clanking; they remind me of attention-deprived teenagers. The sorcerers metamorphose themselves to felines and canines simply because they don’t find a reason why they shouldn’t. Those sewer sludges offer innocent passers-by feculent experiences. Those urban nuisances can be deadly at times. Despite that, I’ve become doubtful about the rural beauty.

Some of the dragons are blood-thirsty (western imports!). Sometimes, the floral singing cause aural addiction so potent, not even rehabs help (this is why genetic engineering exists). Some magical sages are degenerates themselves: laundering money, accepting bribes and getting involved in illegal prostitution rings. Really ruin it for me.

So far, I have lived in three cities. Two of them are in Indonesia and one in Australia. Ideally, I would love to live in my hometown forever. But, most of professional jobs offered here are limited to business, hospitality, manufacturing, black magic and immorality. I am not interested in any of those (even though I was slightly intrigued by the last one). Here, my success is just a make-believe. Okay, I got sidetracked.

Anyway, these are their brief descriptions. I’ll focus mostly on the non-humans (it’s disputed whether the sorcerers are humans or not. Some are mythical creatures descendants. I believe some are partially humans while others are completely so. Most refuse to believe that. Thanks, supremacists) They’re way more interesting.

Home bittersweet home

My hometown is like a grown-up with strong potentials who are more childish than children themselves. But then, you can find such grown-ups on any Indonesian streets…in dirty diapers, screaming and whining about how their degrees and ages make them superior. Such role models, aren’t they?

The non-humans are mostly useless. They do nothing but making the city a horrible place to live. The robots contribute to the noise and air pollution. The sludges block the sewers, causing annual flooding and infect humans with diseases. The sorcerers prank humans with their magic. Local ghosts haunt houses and, in some occasions, murder the occupiers. They are also peeping Toms. When I got older, I realised I was pigeonholing them.

Many are model citizens. The robots work as engineers and in workshops. The sludges work as government’s health and environmental officers. The sages teach applied magic to any non-magical creatures. The ghosts work as historians. Many work alongside with humans. Just like their human counterparts, they run this godawful city. Without them, it would just be a crowded settlement of no importance.

The Undesired Ones 3 (end)

First published on Medium.com on August 8, 2016.

(short fiction #4)

It’s been seven years since that conversation. Yes, seven. As you expected, our relationships were icy for that long. I didn’t try to make a second apology as I am a massive prick. We only talked when I lent them my stuffs and I borrowed theirs. But, that was it. My bedroom became so cold, icicles were formed. Despite that, they still managed to make me feel happy.

One day, I visited my favourite park with them. It was a seaside park, located not far from my house; it only took 30 minutes by foot (for me, that’s not far). Do not picture it as a pleasant park as it wasn’t. There weren’t enough grass. There were no flowers. There were old, abandoned buildings; they looked like they were built in the 1980’s. It was really hot even on cloudy days (it never went below 30 degrees celsius). When rain came, it had to be accompanied by a storm. But I still loved it.

It was really quiet. Even though I was never completely alone (when my friends didn’t want to go with me), it was never crowded; perfect for me to unwind. On hot days, I could stay under the trees which were still surprisingly healthy despite the poor park management. On rainy days, I could stay under the gazebos. The abandoned buildings were mentally stimulated; I often imagined what I would do if I purchase them as their architectural styles were beautiful. Okay, enough with the irrelevant info.

My friends visited the park for similar reasons. Because of that incident, I became more reserved every time I went out of the house with them. It was a really hot day so we preferred to stay under the shades. It was very relaxing, physically and mentally. But that relaxation didn’t last long because of an unwanted person.

“Guys, that is Anto over there.” I pointed to a small crowd.

He was playing soccer with his friends (I didn’t count how many they were). He wore a pair of sport shorts. He was naked from waist up. His bare torso really caught my attention. It had really well-scuplted solid muscles resulted from intense regular exercises. His perfectly-tanned skin was glistening with sweat which reminded me of the guys in ‘cheap’ films; it felt so unreal! He was already attractive when I saw him years ago with those loose clothing. Then, this! I looked at his friends. Even though they did not have good-looking faces, their bodies were equally athletic. It became more unreal! If there were spectators, I am sure they would enjoy the players more than the sport itself. On a glimpse, I saw that both Wan and Kama were smiling; I don’t think they smiled simply because they were “happy”. Then, I realised something: Anto and his friends had muscles!

What would happen if they saw me with the ‘undesired’ ones? I was just a fat prick, they were all athletic. Anto said he was in the military. Judging from the haircut of some of his friends, they may be military men as well. They could easily turn me to a pile of flesh and bones. Immediately, I started walking home even though I just arrived at the park. My friends looked disappointed. But, they expected this shameful behaviour of mine. They followed me anyway.

“It’s stupid of you for fearing us.” Rita said suddenly after five minutes.

I stopped walking. I turned to them.

“Did you know what we just saw?”

“Well, we just saw Anto and his friends.”

“We are not talking about him and his gang.” Wan said calmly. I became more confused.

“There were people that you weren’t able to see.” Kama added.

I just stared at them.

“Every single one of those people have ‘undesired’ friends.” Wan made the inverted comma gesture when he said the word “undesired”.

I didn’t know how to react.

“In fact, every single one of them have more than four.” Rati said. “Some of them only had male friends, some only had female ones, some had both. By the way, which one was Anto?”

“He was the one with grey shorts.”

“Really? He had the most number of ‘undesired’ friends.” Rati revealed. I was genuinely shocked.

“All of them were males.” Kama said. “It was a right decision for you to leave Anto and his friends.”

“Why?”

“Their ‘undesired’ friends are really undesirable.” Wan answered. “Actually, undesirable is an understatement. They emitted really dark auras. I would be surprised if they haven’t done anything horrific.”

“What kind of horrific things?”

“The things he showed you years ago.” Rati answered.

I didn’t react at all. I stayed silent for about a minute. I didn’t dare to make any eye contacts. Then, I proceeded to walk home. Should I be surprised that Anto have more undesired friends than me? Not only that, they were actually undesirable! He was a beautifully-masked man with a rotten core.

It was almost bedtime. Just when I was about to get on the bed, I stood frozen. My lack of movement confused them.

“Andy, what’s wrong?” Wan asked.

I stayed silent. I turned to face them. I made a gesture telling them to hop on the bed with me. They had been sleeping on the floor throughout this whole time; they were physically tough.

Now they were the ones who stood frozen.

“Please.” I sounded sadder than I wanted to.

For the first time in years, they gave me warm, genuine smiles. They hopped on the bed with me. One of them turned off the bedside lamp. We cuddled tightly.

“Guys, I am….”. They interrupted me with gentle shush. A hand was gently stroking my hair. The room suddenly became warm again. But that is nothing compared to the warmth emited by friends. It had been missing all these years.

I have been forgiven.

The Undesired Ones 2

First published on Medium.com on August 8, 2016.

(short fiction #3)

It was a lazy Saturday afternoon. In my hometown, it was always blazingly hot on sunny days. Even though I was allowed to use the cooler, I didn’t want to. I started to find comfort in the heat. There were no home works. It would be a perfect day to unwind. But, after what I witnessed in the auditorium the day before, it was hard to.

My so-called “undesired” friends were with me in my bedroom. Rati was reading a book about Chrisye, one of our favourite musicians. Kama had earphones on his ears; I don’t know what he was listening to. Wan was laying on the floor, daydreaming. I just realised that they grew up to be really attractive youngsters; if they are visible to other people, I am sure they would attract many desiring and lustful eyes. They looked better than those celebrities, who tended to look plastic.

“What’s wrong, An?” Wan suddenly asked. He sounded concerned.

“Nothing”. I didn’t dare to stare at his eyes and preferred to look out of my window.

“Are you sure”

“Aye.” I still didn’t dare to look at him. I could sense that he didn’t believe me.

“Don’t lie to me.” See?

“I don’t.” I turned to stare at him. I was getting annoyed. Kama and Rati stopped what they were doing, sensing the tension.

“Well, you have been acting strangely since you got home from school yesterday.” Rati added. “You were very quiet.”

“I am a quiet person.”

“Not with us.” Kama said suspiciously. “With us, you are always very talkative.”

I stayed silent.

“Come on, Andy.” Wan pleaded. “You always share your most inner thoughts to us.”

They all stared at me intensely. I just realised how intimidating their eyes could be. It looked they were able to see one’s soul.

“Okay, then. I will tell you what bothers my mind.” I didn’t remember exactly how I recalled the auditorium ‘incident’. But I remember exactly how they reacted: gradually, their facial expressions showed profound disappointment before they quickly switch to expression of sadness.

“And you just believe him?” Rati asked. Her voice was laced with sadness and something else that I couldn’t fathom. Anger?

I didn’t dare to answer.

“Answer me.”

I stayed muted.

“Andy, answer her question.” Kama pressured.

No words from my lips.

“Andy…” That one word from Wan was enough to give me chills.

I shut my lips tight for what felt like hours. Then, I relented.

“Okay okay! Yes, I believe every single word he said!”

They couldn’t believe the words that escaped thought my lips.

“He was very convincing. He gave me strong evidences! I am sorry but…..”. Kama cut me off.

“Don’t you dare say you are sorry!” Kama hissed.

Wan added, “Typical Andy. We always knew that your mind is easily molded by other people. But we didn’t expect that bloody trait of yours would lead to this. You are twelve! You should be better than this!” Every single word pierced my chest like icy knife.

Rati concluded the conversations, “If you really know us, you would know that we never cause any harms to you. In fact, we are the ones who have been protecting you. We are even more protective of you than your own family! The fact that you believe that man’s words easily, it’s just……”. Rita didn’t finish her sentence. She didn’t need to.

My room became really cold despite the weather. It stayed that way for many years. We stayed silence throughout the day. Just before bedtime, someone-I don’t remember who-said this, “Like it or not, we will always live here. We don’t have anywhere to go. Your room is our only home.” I nodded without turning my head.

The cold was unbearable for me. But it was nothing compared to the coldness emitted by my friends. What have I done?

The Undesired Ones 1

First published on Medium.com on August 8, 2016.

(short fiction #2)

I have three special best friends. My relationship with them are special because it still strong as steel to these days. Unsurprisingly, there were some turbulences. Let me summarise the whole story:

The first ones I met were Wan and Rati. They are twins. Wan’s full name is Puspawan but he preferred to be called Wan for short; he thought Puspa sounded girly. Rati’s full name is, well, Rati; she doesn’t care if we call her either Rat, Ti or both. I don’t remember exactly but I think we met when we were five. We instantly became good friends! Then, years later, I met Kama. He easily joined our small circle of friendship.

Their presence always bring contentedness to my life every single time. It is not the best thing I have experienced and they know that. But, the feeling is strong enough to make me fly to cloud nine. I didn’t know why but I was afraid to share it with other people, including my mom. Especially my mom. One day, not long after after my twelfth birthday, I discovered the reason.

I was at my school assembly which always held in the big auditorium. I knew what they were going to say would be considered important as they rarely did assemblies. I could see all of the teachers sitting at the front row. A woman in her fifties entered the stage. Her presence was enough to make even the school hooligans silent. She tested her microphone before she greeted her audience.

“Peace be upon you,” the school principal greeted.

“And on you be peace,” the whole auditorium replied.

“Today, we will discuss something that should be talked about more often. They have entered our lives and we recklessly let them in. What many of us don’t know is the damages they cause. How many of you have heard of ‘The Undesired Ones’?”

Some students raised their hands. I didn’t.

“To speeds things up, I shall introduce to our special guest. He is the deputy chairman of the ‘Free Lives For The Youths’. The organisation have been dealing the undesired ones for five years and they have received multiple awards from various religious groups. Now, let us welcome Mr. Antonius Ismail!”

The audience applauded politely as a smiling man in his early twenties entered the stage. He was wearing a long-sleeved brown batik shirt and a pair of grey suit pants, each was a bit ovesized. His fashion didn’t fit his good-look which caused small but audible flirtatious giggles among the female students. His confidence was so superficial, he looked more full of himself rather than confident.

“Greetings, everyone.” He spoke with a very flat, Jakartan accent.

“Greetings.”

“I would to thank Principal Citra for inviting me to this school.” From my seat, I could see the principal, who was already seated in the front row, nodded. He continued, “as the principal has told you, I am from the ‘Free Lives For The Youths’ organisation. We are advocating for life free of the undesired ones.”

Well, fucking duh!

“My name is Antonius Ismail. You can call me Mr. Anto.”

I am not sure what happened next. But I didn’t remember what he said; he made a really long monologue. I have a really poor memory. Trying to tell you my stories is very difficult. I am not sure if I even told them accurately or not. The only thing I remember that he had military background. One thing for sure is I remember exactly the things he showed after he finished his babbles. They are not the things one can easily forget.

“Don’t believe me? Okay, I will show you the truth.” At that moment, the giant projection screens behind him lit up. Each show a picture that I immediately assumed to be the organisation’s logo. Frankly, I still don’t know what it was supposed to be: it looked like a plus symbol made out of Arabic calligraphy circled by extremely tiny stars placed on a green background. Sorry, I was distracted. Irrelevant info. Anyway, I just realised that he was holding a slide show remote control. He pressed a button and the nightmare began.

The screen shows a video of a woman’s head. I didn’t know what happened to her! Her face was covered with huge scabs. But, unlike normal scabs, the ones on her face seem to be alive; it looked like under each scab, there were creatures trying to escape. Somehow, Mr. Anto was able to read my mind.

“There were maggots beneath her skin. In worse cases, the maggots got out and exploded the faces.” Some students squirmed uncomfortably. I heard some of them yelping. He pressed the button again.

A video of a man’s head appears. Even though he looked normal, he whimpered painfully. Then, the camera focused on his body. Again, I am not sure what happened. It seemed that the skin of his body was made out of wax and got melted halfway through. More yelping from the students.

Mr. Anto pressed the button again.

Everyone in the auditorium screamed. Another video of a person’s head appears. But I didn’t know if it was a he or she. It looked someone -or something- ripped almost the entire flesh, leaving nothing but blood-covered skull with two eyeballs still attached; they were staring to our souls. Some students started throwing up, the teachers quickly aided them. Thank God I didn’t sit close to them.

He pressed the button again.

A video of a crying baby appeared. The whole body was covered in greenish, scaly skins that may break every time. But the crying was much more haunting; it expressed darkness that sounds much worse than death. Some students started to cry as well.

He pressed the button for the last time. The organisation’s logo appeared once more.

“Now you see why you should fear the undesired ones. They may act like your friends and you fall for that. Don’t! They are Devil’s babies! They are condemned by God for contravening His words, they make the unnatural natural!”

The auditorium went silent.

“But fear not. Despite their charms, they are very easy to recognise.”

I paid attention this time.

“First , they only appear to you; they will hide when other people, especially your parents, are in sight. They are good in hiding. Second, they are very intimate with you; they are trying to convince you that they are a part of you. Third, which is the most important, their presence give you intense positive feeling that you are unwilling to share with people. That feeling is like a drug, it may makes you happy right now but it will destroy your body and soul. So, with the principal’s assistance……”

I stopped paying attention again. I felt like I was slapped in the face. I couldn’t believe that I was bertrayed people I trusted! Wan, Rati and Kama were never seen by other people but me! Every time my mom knocked on my bedroom, they always disappeared! I was always intimate with them? How intimate? Intimate enough to let me share my bed with them every night! I even let them see me naked! But the worse part is they did give me intense happy feeling that I always kept private! So, I came to a heartbreaking conclusion:

Wan, Rati and Kama are the undesired ones.

Habitual Ire

First published on Medium.com on August 8, 2016.

(short fiction #1)

“Why, Andy? Why?”. My mom couldn’t fathom what she had just discovered. Demons of sadness and anger were devouring her soul at the same time. I had done something really terrible. Just another day with me.

“For twenty years, I had to raise a devilish son LIKE YOU!”. Her howling was so intense, even those demons ran away, searching for a more manageable victim. She slapped me.

“Why did you do this to me?”. I could barely hear her words with my face hurting. My eyes got teary.

“HEY! You don’t have the right to cry! I should be the one who cry, you spoiled pig!”. She pushed me to the ground and proceeded to stomp me with her feet. Her body became really hot every time she was angry. As a result, my torso was covered with burns. My T-shirt was singed. I started to get use to the pain.

“STAND UP!”. I did and she slapped me again. “You are more priviliged than most kids! You are even more priviliged than your sister! I let you to choose any schools you wanted! I gave you nice foods which made you fat! I gave you an expensive computer! I took you to nice holidays! I never forced you to be a top student! I tolerated every single one of your sins! Yet, this is the reward I get from you! Why, Dan? Why?”.

I stood silent.

“ANSWER ME, YOU AUTISTIC PIECE OF SHIT!”. Her screaming cracked the living room mirror.

“I….I…..”, I stuttered.

“SPEAK CLEARLY! WHY DON’T YOU CURE YOUR STAMMERING?” This time, her screaming detonated the television set.

“I…I don’t know.”

“YOU DON’T KNOW?” She punched me in the face. I was surprised that my nose didn’t bleed.

As expected, I spent the whole night listening to her repeating the same sentences over and over again. That’s her. If there is nothing to talk about, just repeat the something that has been said before. Her so-called guardian angels hated me. Every time I angered her, they made sure the time slowed down for me; a minute literally felt like a day. It was very physically and mentally exhausting.

By midnight, she dismissed me to my room. She told me to get some introspection about my action. She said she wanted a solution for my misdemeanor ready in the morning. When I was out of her sight, I quickly paced to my room. I was relieved to be inside, the place where I had complete control of everything. I changed to a fresh T-shirt and proceeded to use my laptop for internet, my main source of entertainment. Knowing what to expect, I decided to look at the mirror.

My head and a chunk of chest were missing. They always were every time I brought anger, sadness or both to someone else; they were devoured by the demon who constantly followed me (obviously, they would grow back in the morning). I knew why he always did it. I may said sorry. But, I knew I would torment my mom over and over again. The worse part was she knew that as well and she would still give me those luxuries. I let the demon grew. Oh, what a wonderful soul I have.