Seaside Laziness

By: muhamad rafi

If you have the eyes of an hawk; or an hawk yourselves; or any kind of sharp eyes animals – nonetheless i don’t care, and look closely to at the bottom of the cliff of a beautiful seaside. You’ll saw my bodies – remains of what it was at least: nothing more than a barnacles covered skeleton remains of me. Well, i did died a long time ago, but not that long to be called a ‘fossil’, or to be more hyperbole, ‘the remains of anmissing famous man’, or maybe ‘missing corruptor find!?’ on some national newspaper headlines is not that bad either, even though that is the lie that i wish i was at that day.

Now, i’m gonna tell you this story – well, it’s not even a story as it’s seemingly doesn’t have any some sort interesting value nor any kind of enertaintment quality, nor too character development whatsoever – but for anyone reading this “story”, i only wish that you’ll read it till the end. Later, you can bash it with anykind of criticism or hate, i don’t care: would a deadmen care for that kind of thing? Yourselves reading this is already can make my restless spirit at ease until the judgement day come to, as well, freed me from this damnation.

At least about, year? Or maybe months? I don’t exactly remembered very well like the rest of my story, before the time of my death, that place is only a private – well, not private exactly, but a ‘secret paradise’ for me and my friend to hangout and getknocked out by all the blows back at the town. Just sat there and be amazed at the salty aroma of the ocean below that have been carried by the slithering gale, and sometimes if we got almost knocked out by all the blows and almost fainted, we would woke up and find that we, myself atleast, woke up at my bed. Still beated and swollen here and there, and can’t move my joints. It happend to me three times already, but in reality i’ve been beaten more than get beaten, and one day at the fourth day that happens, same incident, and same circle of pain, but the diffrent thing is that my friend came visited with no sustained injuries what so ever.

At that fourth time, he doesn’t followed me to take a hit rom local punks and brats that has been hanging out at alleyway or local supermarket. Thanks to that, i’ve sustained more injuries than before, example like, my right shoulder has been dislocated and my right thigh sustained a deep slit from a broken bottle – the one guy that i’ve fight at least use one of that sharp thing; broken bottle, knife, and funny weird enough, one of the thug use a dull rusted box cutter with “property of Soekarno carved to it.

‘one hell of a scars,’ he smiled and chuckled ironically. He wraps his arms with a fruit basket. I only can followed and respond with laughter. Stopped few seconds, i responded. ‘that’s because you aren’t there, if you just followed me, my injuries maybe not gonna be this bad.’ Said i, ‘or maybe i’ll stopped after i heal from this catastrophy.’ He walked a little closing to me, and put the fruit basket at a small table next to me. ‘why do you asking a fight to brats again?’ asked he, even though he shoul’ve know the answer, still he questioned it; ‘why do we takes those blows meaninglessly?’ asked he again.

I stopped, and also everything felt like it’s stopping. The only things there are the wind entering from the opened window beside me along with a hinch of gritty dust swirling, and rotted brown leaves. I sharpened my mind; remembering why would i do it from the first place? ‘i don’t know’ that’s the answered to my friend. Again, he smiled. ‘that’s the answer that i’ve been anticipating. There’s no same of not knowing of what you’ve been done by this past years.’

‘Hm?’

‘i mean, have you ever remembered the important events that has happend before? I mean yes you should’ve remember some stuff, but for this? You forget; i forget.’ He take the small chair at the table next to me and sat. ‘i followed you back then because of some reason too, but it also blurry from my mind like yourself, but.’ He reaces out to his pant’s pocket and take out a piece of paper. ‘i’ve just taken an collegeship exam few days ago,’ he open the folded paper, and at that paper, there is a stamp read “accepted.” I started to look at that deeply and unknowingly to my self:unconsciously weird. ‘as you can read yourself, i’m accepted – 4th with the biggest of the aptitude test ... that’s why i doesn’t with you at that this time: taking the exam for an overboard university.’

‘congratulation,’ said i flatly, and look away to the window. ‘i hope you’ll follow well too at your college.’

‘don’t give me that, i tell you this is to make you stop doing this.’ Once again, back i look to him. Furious state is seen, yes. But it’s not furious on the context of hating, but warning. ‘right now the injuries are worsen than before, you don’t know what will happend next you pick an another fight.’

I don’t responded. As like my own throat choked by a piece of bone, the words that supposed to be flood out like a broken dam stuck at the edge of my tongue, as that, the only word comes out is only a simple ‘hm.’, and he also answered me with a simple nodded.

‘i only hope that later you folloe along and sign yourself to a collegeship or get a decent job.’

For the rest of that, i don’ remember clearly as fog as i myself doesn’t remember the rest of the month of my wound healing progress. The rest of those days, without trace just gone; one second i opened my eyes, i already stood up facing the mirror, only wearing my pajamas and short pants. Across my thigh there is a scar with some criss-cross remains of sew is run across it noticeably. I don’t know what happend, yet i just go trough that just normally without quetion righ now – though is too late for me now as i only can observed and rethink the past.

Now, maybe you’re wondering, ‘what is the connection of that with my dead.’ Well, like i told you that ‘this thing even can’t be considered a story; only a immature tales of a dead man’, in reality, i don’t know myself how’s that connected with my time of death – for thing sure, that was one of the event that came closed next to my death. If i wasn’t wrong, the thing came after the long missing period of my awakening is that ... laziness.

What i meant by that was, is like some stupid closed-in just watching or playing their video games. Well, i can be considered became one of them. Let’s see ... if i wasn’t wrong, i spend my day at my house without stepping a foot outside, the record was two straight weeks. Well, in matter of foods, i just ordered it. For the fear of getting fat, everytime i just do planking or just a simple push-up or sit-up. And for activity, like a tortoise inside it’s shell or sloth with it’s branches, and for humans, it’s laying on the couch and watching mindlessly television. Now, it’s seems not interesting, and that’s right.

From all the news outhere blazing with chaos like a rainforest fire, like all the violences, famine on other countries, and anarchy between one another is just, morbidly, interesting for me. Well, there is one time more than watching those thing that made me giggle a little. It is when i am cutting chicken, at the freezer there at least three frozen chicken. I tried to cook it at least for avoiding eating more ordered food, and i cut then slimly. I seasoned it with anything goes at the kitchen at the time. It was a hazy day that blew restlessly if i just changed my mind ninety degrees that i’ll order some food, maybe when i opened the package that i would eat along with some gritty dust.

I cut them slowly from the bone base, i peel the unwanted skins and it goes fine and smoothly. But at the third time if i wasn’t not wrong, i cut myself. Not just a baby cut on a finger, it’s like a slice from pinky to thumbs. Well, it’s painful indeed, but it’s the pain that triggered the scar that rest on my thighs. And few memories of good ol’ day of me fighting. Well, that’s trigger those memories thanks to the pain. The pain thanks to get crushed by fists’ clench hardly, slitted by sharps objects and other stuff.

Well, i am hurried to take the first aid and covered it, and the fabric that wraps my arms slowly soaked by the blood and the pure whiteness stained by the colour red. After few minutes, i take some ice from the freezer and compressed it. The bled stopped, but the pain’s still kind of there. ‘Well, that’s the start of something.’

Few hours later when i realized i need more than a simple bandages and ice cubes, so the record of staying at my house for more than two weeks, and start setting my foot outside. The sunray hastely speared my eyeballs that i must covered it for few minutes to adapt to it. The dust that swirled around on the street too makes my eyes soared and i have to covered the wound with my other hand so it doesn’t infected by the dust.

I arrived at the pharmacy, and hastly buy some pack of antobiotic and sets of another bandages. And this is the time of few hours before my death – how anticlimatic and boring ithappend, but it is what it is. I paid at the cashier. But the thing is, she looked at me uncomfortably; glaring like a revengeful beast with a great thirst. So i asked her. ‘what’s the problem?’ She only answered with more sharp glare than before. She is a woman around at her thirty more or less, with the pharmacist outfit with round glasses and noticeable freckles. ‘ listen, i don’t know you, but i shall ask you nicely, please stop staring me like that.’. she stopped, but something else happend.

She grabbed me so suddenly, and her other arm reaches out from under the table and stab my holded arms by that. It’s a syringe with half of it filled with some kind of liquid. I tried to struggle, but her grip is so firm and strong that i can’t resist more than an inch. I tried to at least to punch or kick or even heatbutted her, but she already injected me with that liquid which made me so tired and sleepy.

I fainted, but She said something just before i completely lost my consciousness, but again it’s very incoherent to my eardrums.

The time i regain my consciousness, i am bindfolded and lied down on grass, based from what i felt. My mouth is also chomped on somekind of thick clothes that i can’t speak. The smell of saltiness that entered trough gap of that clothes, the high wind brushed away dust from my cheeck, and the obvious wave hitting some solid thing below. This is the place near the seaside? I think to myself. There is no other place that felt this familiar nor smells and sound that so distinguishable.

‘you injured my little brother to the point that he fell into coma thanks to you.’ Some woman started to talk at some distance. ‘until now, and forever still to unknown stretch of time or maybe he never wake up. I don’t have enough money to daily paid my brother’s treatment, until now i am forced to sold my house and now lived on an ugly small apartement... you must repay!.’ She started to pushed my body, and as time passes while she pushed me, the sound of the wave started to rumbled ever closely. Other words, she pushed my out of the cliff. Closer, closer, and fell.

And there, that was the time of my death – not before death itself judges me – and this is maybe the part where you can just stop reading this bad story of mine as it’s already decaying and spiralling into more absurdism than before.

I don’t know how or just an illusion from the heighened fear of the unknown or what:

I stand on a void, and it called.

No forms and pressence, only voice: the deep voice that i can’t distinguished from man nor woman, and the void that is pitcher than night itself can’t be unseen.

‘you the one that lived as a vigilante.’ It called. I only can stand and can’t denied any of it’s statement. ‘as you should be not judged yet as it’s not your calling nor it’s not part of death’s plan to you be killed by some sort of background character without meaning on your personal story killed you ... maybe even the mortal’s watcher itself.’ The voice stopped. ‘ you may say your defense to me.’

At some degrees, i can moved my vocal cords. I tried to ask the obvious for any rational man, which will think this is just some dream or something; ‘is this real?’ is the big line of the many questions which i tried to said but not come out. After a while, i just say ‘no.’

‘i see.’ Said it, ‘but as the law of the living, any mortals that has been lost their vessel shall be judged by me and placd rightfully according to their virtues and sins.’ It again stopped for a while. ‘but as you, maybe i can make some exeption.’

‘what?’

‘as you should not died right at this moment, you just a bugged on a much more bigger system. You should returned to the living – but not as the living yourself, but as a damned soul trapped on your ever lasting prison of meat and flesh that surely will be decayed as times move into the day of judgement.’

After that i saw a flash a light in the front. And it slowly growed into a ball of blinding flash that enveloped me ... and as i opened my eyes, i saw a river of blood dripping into the pure blue ocean – my decaying blood.

And that’s my small story. As i told you, it seems incomplete and rush, but it is what i remembered. Maybe not just my bodies that kept decaying, but my mind surely but not that fast decaying. Maybe, thanks to that, my memories get cutted and the true and bigger story before my time of cursed get cutted also – or maybe the story that i told you right now is just what it is ... now i just have to wait as the day of judgement come, huh? – ah, if you think about it, is my friend is just doing okay at his life? Has he graduated from his college, i wonder.