Three carriages strolled on the engulfing pathway of the forest. Grunting arduously, the horses struggled to mark their steps forward, as their feet and the wheels were constrained by the created mud trail. They are the carriages of the chief. By the gentleness of tubal jars filled with vibrant liquids, and stacked thin papers with small writings, the coachman in the lead carriage transferred the itch from the spoilage of trembled-carefulness by harsher whip to the horse in each of its slip and step back.

“Poor Lambe, we are not in a rush,” said the guard, pointing to the horse inside the carriage.

“I told you that we don’t need carriages,” said the coachman in his breath with suppressed disappointment. “Horses are enough”.

“It was his idea. Send your complaint to the prince” said the man, the road bumps again.

“You know he is young but you agreed without a thought”. The coachman struck Lambe again before climbing the road.

The second carriage is a man with his face to the roof and mouth completely opened, his face and hair glitters with white sands, he wore a torn white shirt and dirt-powdered Sarong. Though his fleshless limps obediently follow the course of the carriage, the watching man beside him is tightly holding the grip of a machete between his legs. Occasionally, the old coachman of this carriage will call the man and inquire if the sleeping man has awakened.

The third carriage is a watchful guard holding a tall stick with a glimmering end, beside him is a woman in a blindfold and a teenager where a tree root is slowly consuming both of his hands. His eyes are wide open behind the black fold and frequently look to the woman beside him and then to the armed-man in his size at the most left. He looked at the glorious knife, if it was in the eastern direction, then the man was looking at him. “If one escapes, the others die,” the guard said.

A claw grips the cloth behind his neck and drags him along the chair out of the carriage. His feet instantly tremble after printing it in the fresh mud, then he can hear her wife and nephew grunted walking through the guidance of tethering pull of guiding grips. It takes ten, twelve, thirteen steps so they can reach dry soil before stumbling their toes to a stone path. Sounds of horses gallops reverberate on the morning breeze. A sudden creak of a fence being opened begins a multitude of sounds of crowds. A murmuring conversation and delicate footsteps welcomed them, They are in the Great House.

“Praise to the sire” greeted the man with the machete and bowed his head. The people behind him, guards and captives followed.

“Praise to the earth to bring you forth… A recognizable face, might I be mistaken assuming the stain upon our name is coming from their behalf?” Answered a familiar voice, thick, clear, and dignified, it is the voice of the chief.

He smiled and sat again on the chair. “Bring them to the dungeons”, he proclaimed. A guard from the left side of his chair descended from the stair and replaced the young man in the front of the line.

“Praise to the sire, Oh what an admirable power, allow me to lead them” asked Zaga to the young man, bowing until the approval of his superior.

“Praise to the earth, ignore my permission and carry them from the vicinity” Zaga stood and raised his left hand, he bolted instruction in the arrow of his sword. One guard at the back ordered them in perfect alignment.

The young man at the center of the field bowed the last time to the chief and walked to the smoke of yellows on the gate, he straightened the machete on its sheats and tightened the belt around his waist. Another young man in his age stood with one foot while the other held him against the wall, he immediately released his folded arms in the rhythm of the unison scroop of falling Sarong on the ground.

“Praise to thee, sire” He bowed to the height of the person’s waist.

“I ordered that you were back home. You have not requested your mother’s permission for absence, Safar” the prince smiled.

“She shall understand. I profess superior duty here, the nightlong watch is worthy of a time when I was the one that opened the door, seeing my prince with the face of victory. However, I was expecting obstacles rather than moonlight staring” Safar chuckled.

“Well, indeed. It was not much of an obstacle for me either, the wanted man was Balren. It is beyond our understanding the reason why he slept on the sand above his mask, his lone belonging, at the northwest beach. That madman was knowledgeable and respected, he was the chief at the plantation, the one that said regretted his inventions and repented. But it seems secretly in the hideout, he craves for more and fashions new inventions, new ideas just to make things that are working obsolete, he must be full of himself. But what an irony that he initially left his duty for life, but found himself alone at the beach on the neglect of his family, poisoned by his own creation. Something also was off from his mind, upon our arrest, Balren was the one that led us to his own house, flung the door open by himself. He screamed to his wife and knocked his head to the door of the room of his nephew, what a savagery! We went to his separate room and took all his belongings; there at the first carriage, his new invention, a new liquid with the color of red. I am keen to figure out what it is for.”

“I presume that it is a bizarre surrender, an enemy that so far looks for large destruction can not fall so easily. There has to be mistakes. I am afraid that he is part of someone’s game” said Safar.

“And I am willing to be part of it. I will request my father to look at it myself. No, but Safar, I invite you to come with me”

“I am unworthy of this trust, dear sire”

Hamlet politely laughed, “It isn’t my concern, for my concern is now to sleep in warm waters and rose petals”. He strolled to the east, the large yard in stone-floor to the smaller building that was adjacent to the building where the chief sat.

Contrary to the expectation, reaping a reward for three months of labor becomes a new form of exhaustion. Since the morning, he might only straighten his back once, the prolonged bend to cut paddy trees stiffening the bone making it painful to even raise his back in that his sudden standing emits a concerning crack and quivering pain that he had to lie down instantly. Luckily, the sun now is right above the head, Aeti, Akbi, and Amar have returned to the house to take lunch, while in front of him is already the plate he fetched before them, it is laid the rice from the morning soaking with orange diced Tempeh curry, a wood-like food from fermented soy beans. He is under a guava tree, ten steps in front of the puddle between the siege of two highlands. Its bark is shavened-clean, and its leaves are lushful emerald that can shield it from most of the sunlight. Still, few gaps on the branches and leaves allow some light shooting down, bringing warmth to the cold air. He proclaimed it as his possession because Akbi can not stop following him to this tree, he also oftentimes finds him sleeping underneath which force Farid to find another tree with inferior luxury. He is not mind by the presence of his brother, but Farid loves to contemplate, imagining stories, talking to the sky and the trees as if they are alive and have thoughts. He hates to be seen when doing it because people would ridicule him insane. He is not insane; on the trees, sky, and earth, he felt the most beloved.

“Farid, have you finished eating?” His mother yelled, right at the front of the door, her waist lurching from side to side as she walked the path, a grotesque, exaggerated sway that seemed to spill out towards the very edges of decency. She planted her hand above her eyelid and looking around with her head, she threw smiles in his direction, begging to see his attention. Why does she seem content? Ludicrous

Farid grunts when their eyes meet, his back is still hurting, his skin is still burning red from hours of working, the fatigue is yet to recover. They are returning to the field, so he must follow, simply for justice. He waited until his conscience called him, oh, why has the seek of this fairness never truly been fair? Near where the empty plate is situated, in the last taste of rest, he punched his back to the trees and took eye-opening breaths before sprung himself to the air. He almost fell back from balance but his hand anchored him by the bark of the tree.

‘I thank you, my friend, ‘ he whispered to himself, tapping the tree four times.

He rose to the hill and met the breeze, suddenly the hot atmosphere swept away to his face. Above is a blazing crystal on blue sky with thin layers of spread lines of cloud, forming a snake figure. Far on the horizon is their farm and his parents that bend and swing their backs, cutting the sharp grasses. Aeti stood and searched for him, then she yelled his name again, waving her hand like he was her adorable pet. Why did she have to scream as he had no eyes and ears? Be a man and an adult!

Farid drags his feet to her mother’s position. She smiled, from the ground she drew him the longest sickle; and the sharpest, she said happily. He knows! he could take it by himself, he would not run! He took the sickle and walked to the line of paddys in front of him, he grabbed the plant’s stems firmly like choking someone (though it is only momentarily because of the sharp needles of the stems) and then cut it savagely. Aeti looked at him in surprise, then continued swingin her hands.

While they are in the field, Akbi has just gone out to the front of the house with his pretty darling Badriah, who is inaccessible to the sun. Badriah invited Akbi just today to the feast of Badriah’s family. She was surprised to hear, as Akbi had mentioned in their previous meeting, that his farm would be harvested either today or tomorrow. She had thought the harvest was scheduled for tomorrow, which is why she decided to visit him today. “I was mistaken” she touched her head delicately. Then she lowered her voice and told him and his parents that she had prepared all the feast, explaining that her father had caught a deer yesterday, and its freshness would only last for today

“Badriah, I apologize, but I can not be with you. For now is the harvest and I must get to the field” Akbi begs her to release his hand. Badriah dropped her head, her lips spouted like a child.

“I will help to harvest, I have not been in the rice farm for years” she looked at him again, her pupils enlarged. She jumped on her toes and chased his hand.

“Please do not bother, Badriah”

“I am happy to do it, but if you take some fruit for me later on” She pronounced her happiness while massaging his palm.

Akbi chuckled and he said he would give her a bucketful, he ran inside the house and went out with a cloth on his hand, then they walked through the dry, crumbling soil. His father smiled seeing the beautiful lady carried out by his son, Akbi gazes to his feet, then he sought for a place far in the east to hide his embarrassment. Amar can not stop teasing him, he demands every detail of her everytime they talk in the barn, porch, and in his room. I only see myself in reflection of water in the saddest of times, in the unfortunate one. But in the gaze of you, I see myself when I was young with his happiness and charm. Akbi does not like to talk about his relationship, he wishes only to talk love with Badriah and it is extremely draining when his mind tries to expel the words to describe his love, making most of the time it is an exaggeration or depletion in the articulation. Amar sees Akbi as the young of himself, Akbi always squirms hearing it.

Badriah wore the newest cone rattan hat which should belong to Aeti, and then Akbi tore his unused clean Sarong into a long white cloth and wrapped it around her hand. Badriah thanked him and followed him to his right, cutting the stems of the paddy. She cut the stems precisely and arranged them neatly in bulky piles of the straw. The result of cut stems were almost the same height, lining up like the edge of a raised bed. She occasionally stood to relieve her back and looked around, with her excitement in a high-pitched voice, she was excessively amazed by the view of the ocean, and then she praised his father with his beautiful smile or asked about his brother’s name. She forgot names often, she had asked Farid’s name to Akbi every time they met, as she always mistook his name as Ferdi. Akbi always told her that he is a very distinguished person, but she rarely finds it to be true. He seems like a normal being and does not talk much, she often meets those people. The odd thing is, sometimes he gazes at her with looks of resentment, causing her to avoid his eyes directly. She senses that he is not pleased with her presence but Akbi always reminds her that all of the family members are very accepting of her.

The sun glows their skin oranges. The field is almost shaven cleanly, Farid and Amar hug the burning and itching bulk of the straws, they walk with almost trembling limbs southward and store it in the barn. Aeti is excessively tired, she sat on a flat rock where she finished her last cut and watched the shadow of her son with his beloved. Akbi and Aeti burned the remaining stems, fires and thick smoke were around the field.

In the setting sun, though her parents already know, Akbi asked again for his parents permission to adjoin Badriah’s parents request of feast. He will stay there for a night and will be back tomorrow morning, he also promised Farid that he will spare some of the food to compensate for his absence during the night. Farids amused, he said that it is better for him if he spent the night alone, at this tiredness he will drown to the bed quickly and will not wake up to see Akbi’s arrival. Laughter sprang into the air before deafened by the ringing sound of insects, Akbi borrowed their horse and rode it northward, following the trail, the last view of Badriah’s red long gown slowly fades and hid by the woods.

The yard went silent, Farid left his parents and walked to the house. The inside was dark as the sunlight only so far lit the wooden facade and palm-leaves roof. He went to the kitchen and lit the lantern and hover it above the cold stove and leftovers of burning woods. No food, he thought. They will dine late, but her mother is still standing outside with her husband; Akbi, She, She, Badriah, She– they both share laughter together. They must be very happy for such a handsome son that they forgot their other son whose stomach is lurching. Farid went outside to pick up five woods among stacked woods south of the house. He made sure that he takes the dry woods from the lower stacked so that when it is being pulled, it creates demanding noise to attention. Indeed, only in one pulling they quickly look behind. Her mother made a pitchful surprise, “Farid” she said warily. “Alright, no time for talking, our son has starved” she jokes to her husband before they approach him. She is late to cook and yet he feels that her eyes are storming him for ruining their solitude.

“Someone is hungry” she casually laughs. Oh, What a mother!

Farid carries the woods to the porch, he closes his face from their view so he can tangle his forehead and clench his teeth. His father’s irritating arms rested upon his shoulder, tapping it with pride and swiping his back to the head. “An exhaustion is the only proof to show you that I exist,” he told himself.

Farid went out to take a bath, even after a long time cleaning his nails and brushing all the dirt from his skin, they are still talking on the porch. When he finishes cleansing himself, the porch is already empty, now the day is a complete darkness. Amar is in their bedroom and Aeti is on the dinner table preparing plates, knives, and vegetables for cooking.

“My son, have you picked out the woods? Once you done you may start the fire”

The woods were on the porch!. Farid answers with a short grunt, he did not even have the desire to say yes. He smeared his newly dried skin with grime as he clutched the dirt-encrusted wood and placed it in the stove. He pours the glimmering yellow liquid and strikes a fire, she comes and stands beside him. Farid rejects her presence and immediately sits on the table and watches as his mother’s back shuffles and bends beside the stove, the day has blackened and he can not see anything outside, only the lantern and the fire as the source of light. He rested his face on the table, listening to the clings of metal sticks whirled on a pan, by the heavenly smell of herbs, his stomach answered its call eagerly.

“Akbi will be eating a deer tonight. Badriah’s father caught one in the forest, it is rare these days” She started. Can she see him drowning with fatigue on the table? He did not want to talk. She must blame herself for his starvation, he thought.

Her mother asked him to help her cook. He stirred the soup while her mother cleansed the vegetables. The soup must be stirred until it condensed enough to strengthen the flavor.. Indeed, the longer he stirs, the more powerful the soup smells, and right before the soup is at the desired thickness, she drops all the vegetables. Aeti then prepares for the dinner, she unrolls the plates, the spoon, the fork, the rice on the table. Amar, who is just sitting on the seat, praises the smell of the food and sneakily tastes one, two bites when they are not looking.

“Son, what do you think of Badriah?” She is calling him now, she is smiling and expecting an answer. Be a man!

“She is great,” he answered dryly. She asked for an explanation, but he was only able to say that Badriahs is great, Akbi seems to be happy and she is not bothering anyone. He wants to make sure to her that with his very short answer, he is in dire condition of hunger.

“They met when they were your age, do you know that?” She asked gently, and return stirring the soup. She is comparing him with his brother, and he guessed soon enough she will ask when he will have a partner.

“Indeed, he told me that once” Farid lied, he does not want to hear any more stories.

They have dinner eventually, the food was delicious, indeed it satisfies all of his cravings. The spices made sure that they can taste sweet, savory, and warmth in one meal at the same time. However, the satisfaction only comes so far on the tongue. Farid’s stomach that was lurching has been fed with air before eating. And once he ate the food, his stomach hoped that he had it the times before. It rejected the incoming food, despite his hunger. He was already full, yet, he clearly can feel that his stomach is empty.

When the dinner was over, he ran upstairs to his room. He lit the lantern and put it to the corner of the room, he laid his head on the windowsill, ate more air, and listened to the insects that rang in the air. He stretched his hand outside to reach the voice, the insects stopped. Farids casually waited for the insects to sing again so he could stretch his arm outside, then they stopped singing. He does it over again until the insects no longer perceive his action as a threat. That is not the rule of the game, you must be afraid of me, he said to himself. Then he was startled to surprise the cockroach. They silenced to apprehend the new threat, and started with a small hesitated ring, before busting to normalcy. Farids is glad that Akbi is not in the room tonight, he might have told his mother by saying he is playing theatrics to ghosts. Something wrong with his head, Akbi’s voice lingered.