The Staircase
Rasbora Maculata's

“Aki...” My mother yelled from the kitchen, called me.

A short name. The name has a meaning that means to be healed. In the past, before my name was changed to Aki-I was often sickly. Father and mother had resigned because the various ways they had done did not work. My uncle changed my name to Aki. Since then, I have not been sick anymore.

"What's up, ma'am?" I was curious as I looked into the kitchen. Mom puts dirty clothes in a compacted bucket.

"Mom wants to take a bath in the well. You're coming, aren't you?"

"Come on, mom." I answered quickly, enthusiastically.

I ran zig-zagging towards the room, picking up my little towel. The plain towel that mom bought two years ago, is still worth wearing, even though it was a little torn on the edge. In a matter of seconds, I exited the house and rushed after my mother who was already about ten meters away from the back door. We passed the weeds along the way. I paused for a moment, scratching my feet as I watched the heavy-looking mother roll her legs, carrying two buckets of dirty clothes; the other one on her shoulder, the other on her tote. My mother's footsteps shortened, without a trace. Because no one can make feet on hard ground. Usually on the ground that my mother and I are passing now is mossy. Slippery. Sometimes it makes my mother slip, stagger into a limp, cursing around her while saying, brash, hard soft moss head, fruiting weeds. Since when the tares were fruitful, my mother made a strange joke, I laughed out loud every time I heard her talk.

In the past, I also slipped through this weed. Bummer. It was even so shocked that closing my eyes with both hands was like seeing a ghost. Not afraid of ghosts, but I'm afraid that thatch pierced my eyes. Very tiny eyes, which I close at night and I force to be literate at dawn and morning; which blink slowly, even those that can draw water on either side.

The tares bowed as if respecting me like someone who was poured into a group of children. I walked back to pay her respects while saying the word, excuse me in my heart.

Not stalling too long. I walked ahead of my mother. Heading to a well not too far from our old house. About twenty-five meters.

Old house? I looked back and made sure that the house was really old.

"I'm first, ma'am." Footsteps that were deliberately made to stumble, making fun of my mother who walked slowly.

I'm like a bird that gets out of a cage by itself. Running fast, approaching the well. Looking around the well that looks exciting. There are plants such as keladi, broadleaf, spiny stems—grow near the well. Not far from the thorny plant there are grasses that fall to the left and to the right like a road that is deliberately made to the forest. Maybe my father's alternative way to find grass. It could be daddy's pet chicken becoming an acute vegetarian. Cows love grass, it is impossible for chickens to refuse it. But, there's one strange thing. I've never seen you bathe in this well. My babble in heart.

Fathers are most adept at saving water, even a bath can be with a water supply that is all-enough. Don't want to shower in this well. Even prefer to bathe in the pool made by uncle. Water's turbid. Dad doesn't care. Just wet! The argument when mom nags. Who wants to sleep one room with a person who is bathing in murky water? Must've stunk. Tighten my mother every time dad refutes. But I didn't let my heart let me sleep in the living room alone. It was just my mom's way of getting my dad to shower, though it didn't work.

My mother used to force my father to bathe in this well. Just a few days. Chilly. The reason is not to be forced. It does. This well water is very cold compared to the pool water made by uncle. But I don't want to be like my father, and also the uncle who took a bath in his pool.

This well is inhabited by small fish of various colors. On the edge are roots that run down, touching the water. A deep enough well. Long drought does not make this well dry. But it does kind of recede. Almost a meter according to my calculations from ground level. The clear water allowed me to freely see the little fish swimming. Some were red, blackish white, snout mouth, small eyes, and I was tempted.

My mother threw a bucket tied with a rope into the well. The water in the well rippled as the bucket dabbled and was lifted slowly by my mother. The fish remained calm. Occasionally hiding behind roots, leaves and stones arranged randomly in the well. Two buckets full. Mother brought the water a little far from the well, then washed the clothes behind me, facing the thorny plant. My mother said let the soapy water not pollute the well.

"Why, mom?" I asked in astonishment to see my mother throw a bucket of water into the well.

"Letting go of the fish that was accidentally caught." Mom threw the bucket a third time. After making sure there are no fish involved, then the water was used to wash clothes.

I had not yet had time to hold my mother back from returning the fish to the well; I intended to keep it. As if to thank him, the fish swam merrily in the well. I never get tired of seeing it. Even the longer I leaned my head into the well, the more excited and curious I wanted to attack it directly. While imagining the fish I kept in a bottle that I had prepared two days earlier.

My mom was busy doing laundry behind me. Repeatedly wiping his face. I can't bear to. I need help, I need it! And, I should have a new idea as soon as possible. At present. The idea came up. I'll help you get the well water, and the fish. Wait y'all! I cried in my heart as I took the empty bucket beside my mother, silently. I wish something was lifted up by me. I want to keep one of the fish in the well.

My hand is ready to attack the well water. My head is down. Taking the right position to focus on the ambitious movement of my hand to get the bucket thrown into the well on target. Suddenly some dragonflies flapped their wings, flying in front of me. There's alot. About ten tails. They seem to be celebrating freedom. At once accompanied me who was also happy to be able to hold the bucket, scavenging it to the surface of the water.

I'm not allowed to approach this well. More precisely, my mother would be angry if she saw my hands this indecent did not heed her ban.

I tried to fetch water while mom was busy, and no one knew. I also shook my hand like a dragonfly flapping its wings. It's been three times. I threw the bucket carefully, slowly not to be heard by my mother if I ventured near the well and tried to fetch the water.

The grass in the well was removed. Many times until finally at the fifth throw, the small fish entered and stuck in the bucket. I pulled them very quickly so I wouldn't be late. I pulled him faster. Not far from the bucket algae appeared some strands of rope had broken off. The stronger I pull the bucket, the more strands of rope break. I tried to reach the bucket while bending over.

Hissing was stifled, a little hesitant, and trying not to be heard by my mother. No one knows my grandiose idea. It could be that someday mommy believes me to be taking water in this well again. One thing's fun. But it was still a strong determination, with all my ambition I had to fight to prove it! My inner.

Proof by lifting the bucket like a mighty man who is indeed a mainstay hero. It will certainly be a heartwarming conversation for everyone. I wish so. Just a bucket of water, I'm sure mom will tell me to the other moms, calling my big guts super powered. I have to be different from a normal kid. Not only do I want to be a hero, I also want to see my mother if every day to take water in the well without anyone helping.

I held the gaggang bucket as hard as I could to keep it from coming off. Raise it while installing shuffles like a tug of war. But stopped for a moment. I held my breath too long, and the bucket was too heavy. My hand is still holding the bucket. I was not as strong as I imagined. But what's wrong with trying again?

The ground on the edge of the well was eroded. I saw the well water was starting to cloud. One by one the ground above the well fell. My mom down there didn't see me. Too many clothes he washed today, busy.

I don't want to let go of the bucket because there are already fish in it that I will keep. My mother needs my help. I need to feel my role as her son! At least I'm a little useful though sometimes bothering him. Recalcitrant, naughty, and active.

I lifted the bucket again while groaning softly. My left hand holds the bucket algae, my right hand clings to the grass. The sandal I was wearing felt slippery. I slightly bowed while releasing the slippers. Then continue my mission.

This time I will not fail. I held the bucket with both hands. My greatest focus right now is on my feet. All the energy I gave up.

I looked down at the well very quickly. His deft hand stopped instantly after hearing the extremely strong water congeal.

“Yes God.!” My mother screamed, shocked and panicked.

Run closer. Stretched his hand. But not until, only the fingertips I can touch. The fingertips that feel like magnets are the same poles. Although I tried to get closer and reach my mother's hand, but failed because I could not swim. I can't swim either. He could only extend his hand while shouting out all his might, asking for help.

The circular hole like a vowel has no end and no base called the mouth of the muzzle without touching the two lips, making me helpless. I was cold and scared. Mouth prickling for help irregular. Every now and then the well water comes in through my mouth and nose. I'm having trouble breathing.

I shake both my hands. My energy is almost over. My feet could not reach the rocks in the well at all. Not even a bucket I know where. Obviously, the fish I can't catch. They have been free. Right now, it was even me who was trapped in their protective aisle.

The well has turned into a demon. The eroded soil and the surging well water made the water murky. The color is not much different from the pool made by uncle. The fish disappeared instantly, away from me, as if I was inviting disaster for them.

My mother's hand was waving. Screaming frantically, echoing like in a cave.

Not long after that there was a man wearing a red hat whose stature was like that of grandfathers standing near a well. Sighted me. Instantly, a rope of mine was extended to the well. I'm not powered anymore to hold that rope. Though up there was a shrinking sound telling me to hold the rope. But I can't. I'll be drowning soon. I'm resigned.

Slowly the rope shortened, a large body entered, overtaking me into the well. His feet stepped on the well wall, while his hands clung to the rope.

He held me with one hand. Pull me up. The smell of dried sap was still lingering on his body. His embrace was tight. Makes me feel a little warm. His hands feel rough. I seem to recognize that hand.

My eyes can't see clearly. All I see is faint.

I was lifted breech; feet above, head below. Then it was shaken many times until little by little water was swallowed out of my nose and mouth, accompanied by a cough.

I realized and began to see who was helping me. Turns out he was my father. The man who saved me. A lot of reasons to be forced to bathe in this well. Right now, even the father who went down into the well helped me.

My mother hugged me like a guilty man. She cried when she saw me dying.

"It's my fault." My mother said sobbing, I was still in her arms. His voice sounded soft in my left ear.

"It's okay." He hugged me and mom. The three of us were like teletubbies hugging. Like the picture on the cover of a book that I had looked closely a few days ago.

From a distance, the uncle galloped towards us who were hugging near the well.

“Thank God you survived.” Uncle smiled with relief. Breathing violently. A little sweaty and pale. Caressing my head.

Dad took off his shirt, wrapped it around my body. Take a hat on the leaves. The hat was deliberately thrown carelessly in panic, helping me. Put it in my head while smiling tiredly.

"Where's the fish boy, hiding all?" Ledek uncle. "Oh this is the bucket." Lifting the bucket that sank in the well.

"Where are you going, Cil?" Ask my uncle. Uncle's name, Ucil. As the name implies; uncle's body is no bigger than father's. But uncle's footsteps were very agile. Even though one step of father's foot is the same as two feet of uncle, but the pace of uncle's footsteps can not be defeated if we are in the forest.

"Just a second!" Uncle continued on his way, passing through the fallen grass. Dad looked up, curious.

"What's that?" Ask your father as he approaches your uncle.

"Gift to a bad boy." Uncle gave me three little fish he took from the forest.

It turns out that the grass that fell was uncle. Deliberately laid down so that there is a road to the forest, where the uncle looking for fish rasbora maculata. This type of fish can be sold. The price per tail is fifty rupiah. The price of two rasbora maculata fish can afford the blue swordsman candy that is again a hit in this Trans Prompong Village, my village. The village is far from the market, away from the first and upper level schools, from the puskesmas and the city.

"Oh because of this fish?" Ask dad in an objectionable tone. Glancing at me who was smiling felt guilty.