The Virgin Corpse Assignment
Section 99

...THE VIRGIN CORPSE...

...Author by: David Khanz...

...Section 99...

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"Good," said Ki Jarok, then sprinkled the lymph powder into the censer. Instantly the narrow, stuffy, and dim room was filled with white smoke. "I don't think you're so stupid, Basreng. Your brain must have been watered down in school."

'Whatever you do, Aki-aki!' basri keki.

"Thank you, Ki."

"Hik-hik."

'Damn it, even fuck him. Basic, Weathered Bujang! Huh!' the grumbling male cungkring was even more annoyed.

A full day, Basri was guided by Ki Jarok to undergo ritual after ritual along with recitation tests of spells. It didn't take long, almost half of their procession journey had been passed smoothly. Until finally, the figure of the old shaman gave important news as well as the culmination of all the exams that Basri will run.

"I heard that in a village down there, there was someone who had just been buried, Young Man," said Ki Jarok looking serious. "The name is Kampung Sirnagalih" he added.

"Sirnagalih Village?" Instantly Basri's eyebrows crept up a few inches. "Itu—"

"Yes, in the village of Sirnagalih," said Ki Jarok accompanied by a nod several times. "A woman named Sukaesih or Kesih, still a virgin, and died by suicide."

Unknowingly, the screeching man exclaimed in shock, "Astaghfirullahal'adzim!" The old shaman leaned back with fiercely rounded eyes glaring at him. "Eh, sorry, Ki. I didn't intentionally say that."

He just wanted to continue his speech after adding lymph powder to the ignition coals. "Uhuk! Uhuk!" The sound of a heavy cough accompanied by watery red eyes as the puff of reddening smoke invaded his old face. "You know what that means, Young Man?" asked Ki Jarok after busy rubbing his eyes.

"His spirit will not be accepted, Ki, for dying by suicide and his religious condition including kaf—"

"That's not what I mean, you idiot!" the shaman was angry.

"Eh ... wrong, huh, Ki? Duh, sorry. As far as I know, I know, so."

"Shut up!"

Uh, yes. Sorry, Ki."

"Listen!" tell Ki Jarok with a thunderous voice. "I mean that is .. The death of that woman is very qualified for your wish, Basri! Understand you?" Basri. "Good! Dig it and get the rope of the woman's corpse to me!"

"Huhhhh?!" Basri gawked.

"Yes! Dig the grave right at midnight and bring the rope to me as soon as possible that night, too" Ki Jarok asserted. "Remember, you must take it with your own teeth, Basri!"

"Huhhhh?!"

"Don't you ever take it off the neck of that corpse! Otherwise, you won't get any influence from the corpse's rope!"

"Yes, God!"

"God!" The old shaman's eyes flashed red.

"Eh, I'm sorry, Ki. The release said," said Basri while presenting an apology for the umpteenth time to Ki Jarok. Then pensive for some time. Think hard. Perhaps it was this part of the test that caused the worldly devotees to retreat, undo their original intentions and try to use another path; one that was easier and less self-torturing.

Basri's plan to dismantle Sukaesih's grave was constrained. Some nights he was sneaking watching the destination point, the tomb was always crowded guarded by citizens who taught there. 'Shit! If this keeps up, when can I execute that Kesih's corpse?' that man is upset.

"How is this, Ki?" asked Basri to Ki Jarok after describing the results of his monitoring. "In the woman's grave there is always someone who pays until dawn."

"I mean?"

Ki Jarok flicked his long white hair before replying, then said confidently, "This is your recipe. Do it tonight. I'll help you from here. Hick-hick."

Basri scratched his head that did not itch. "What will Aki do?" tanyanya.

"Hik-hik."

'Damn it! Even smirk him!'

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“The only way you can get back what you want is .. You have to do the ritual from the beginning, Basri,” Ki Jarok finally replied.

“From the beginning?”

“Ya, from the beginning,” replied Ki Jarok back. “That's also if you can.”

“No other way, maybe, Ki?”

“You asked me or ordered me, huh?!” snapped Ki Jarok blaring.

Basri was terrified. “I-iya, Ki. S-I can handle it. S-I'm ready, whatever Aki tells me.”

It's true what Basri thought before, surely that's the way he should go. Repeat the ritual from the beginning. Dismantle the grave in the middle of the night with great fear. As he did at the beginning of Sukaesih's grave ....

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For a moment the skinny man froze in a cross-legged sitting position; close both palms on the chest, close the eyes tightly, close, then begin to chant certain sentences with strange and unintelligible language. After which, with his trembling body tucked away in fear, he began to scratch his claws at the surface of the grave ground with all his might. And so on endlessly and without the help of any tools.

"You have to do it with your own two hands, Basri" said an elder he knew and helped him with the ritual procession, some time before that night. "Don't use any tools, including when you pick up the strap. Remember that!"

"Even for the last thing, it has to be with my hands too, Ki?" asked the flattened man named Basri was surprised.

"Yes." Yeah."

"Then?" ask Basri was-was.

The figure in front of him did not immediately reply, instead engrossed in self-sucking while rubbing his long white beard.

"Hike-hik!"

Basri cursed to himself while panting with fatigue, then stopped his digging for a moment to take a deep breath, "The bastard Shaman! Does it have to be this hard Ki Jarok told me to dig Kesih's grave? Not later yet! Goddamnit!"

The man took a deep breath, then exhaled through his mouth. Once he did it up to several times to reduce fatigue. After that, continue digging the grave with the claws of fingers. This time it was stronger and faster like an equanimity.

'I must quickly finish this work before it approaches the next day', ' Basri sat in fear bias, quietly starting to run the grating of his heart. While the tomb niche has already begun to form. Nearly half were dug up. Leaving new heaps around the side of the grave.

It is not easy, indeed, to dig back the mound of the tomb that is almost a week old. Solid land accompanied by pebbles and large stones, that often makes it difficult for Basri to reach the bottom of the cemetery. The pain is no longer concerned, hitting the nail tips and injured fingers. Either scratched or torn. The man himself could not confirm it under the shadow of darkness. But in particular, the heavy recharge of previous rainwater actually helps to inflame.

Some time later ….

The truck!

Basri's fingernail tip is like touching something. Quickly he re-clawed the ground, until the object that had slowly revealed its shape. Like bamboo stems that are lined up obliquely, elongated stuck down.

...SERIATE...