Kadang Rumah Tak Memberimu Pulang

How life never takes, but rather places. How death never disappears, but grows.

Someone has speared the sun in the midst of noon. I heard someone has speared the sun. Naked, they leaped, and with a single flick of their hand, they hurled their spear at the sun. The poisoned tip of the spear dissolved the light and made the sun die. Day turned dark. Night turned bleak. Everyone in the village dressed in black. The elders gathered and discussed something quietly. As if there were danger listening to their voices. Every house listened intently, and every pair of roads felt each other out. The market was silent, the gardens vanished— the village blackened like charcoal. No one dared to leave their homes, cook, or fetch water from the well. Everyone endured hunger. Children cried in silence. Nothing stirred. Everyone forgot what color the trees were. In the distance, the roar of waves was heard, something was crawling from the depths of the sea. Meanwhile, people began to devour the bodies of their own kin.