The dress he wore not much different from his skin, white but slightly streaked. The spots are indeed blood, but there are no rotten or rotten smells from this girl.
Always smelled of jasmine flowers from his body.
Somehow, I feel.
My first love is not human ...
...
This story begins since I was seven years old, my parents divorced and I have to live with my father. We moved in a village away from the crowd.
A large Dutch architectural house, with two floors and a large garden. Here's a fish pond and flower garden.
Like a luxury house in the colonial era first.But first impressions are not the luxury that comes to mind. The house is famous for haunted, because it was once the owner of one of the victims of the riots during the reform era of 98 years ago.
How the whole family was brutally murdered, along with two girls who must be willing to die while being purified by the uncivilized.
Finally my father bought this house, because our plantation is not far from this place. The house keeper is an employee who came with my father for a long time.
"Pak Wagisan!" I yelled for the person I already considered my own uncle.
His body is already starting to age, about 50 years old, but because of exposure to cigarette smoke that he always breathe every day physically seen from his age is very different.
She had a child who gave her a grandchild this time. Her grandson's name is Lia, my playmate since childhood.
We attend the same school to junior high school.
But the core of the story is he ... a beautiful ghost blooded indo china that always swinging in our front yard. Long story short, he was the successor of this house, along with his family members first.
But never until their events bring disaster. Only once once the kitchen equipment fell on its own and almost hit Darmi mbok Wagisan wife's wife.
And that passed with time, initially as a child I was always frightened by what I saw. Just imagine the age of 7 years should live side by side with invisible beings and become part of growing up.
But since I was 13 years old I'm used to it, even my view is already on the creatures.
. . .
Now I am 22 years old, after completing my studies at a university majoring in agriculture I will return to this house.
"Den!" Said a man warmly.
"Whose Wagisan? Who are you sir? "I asked, upon my arrival in this house.
"Pak Wagisan passed away two years ago ... Aldi," my father came to greet me, tightly hugging my father who had not met for four years.
"I'm sorry yeah, dad is too busy in the garden, so om Irwan who replaced the father attended your graduation," said a man who has always been my role model.
"Alah ga nothing kok yah," I said relaxed.
"Kenalin, this is Mr. Danang, his son Mr. Wagisan and his father Lia your friend first," said my father.I nodded slowly to introduce myself.
I started looking around, trying to guess again the memory of the past as I was growing up cheerfully here. A spacious yard that now looks neat because of Mr. Danang's business. Impression of austere began to be invisible here, quite comfortable in my opinion.
The distinctive aroma of the jasmine plantation next to the house came back to me as I started walking slowly down the flower garden on the east side of the house.
I see again, a white swing that has always been my favorite place to play first. Still pretty neat, with a shiny new paint dressing.
"More remember the past well den?" Sir Danang interrupted my daydreaming.
"Eh yes sir, same Lia used to play here often," I said.
But my focus is not my memory as a child. But a beautiful girl in a white dress that is always swinging everybody's nobody.
Mr. Danang returns to the car to take care of my things. I looked back at the old swing, a glimmer of light appeared, creating a beautiful angel shape that always amazed me.
The woman sat cheerfully on the swing. Smoothed his hair and began to smile at the flower garden in front of him.
I do not know whether he will be embarrassed if I am now looking at him full of admiration.
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