The Virgin Corpse Assignment
Section 27
...THE VIRGIN CORPSE...
...Author by: David Khanz...
...Section 27...
...------- o0o---------...
“Do not approach, Children! Give me a walk for a moment. You guys wait here, huh? I want to change your wet mother's clothes,” exclaimed Basri gasping for breath.
“But, sir ...” whining little Maryam almost burst into tears.
“Shut up here first. Don't come in until later you tell me to come in, huh?” pinta Basri returned while pushing the door of the room with a swing of her right leg.
“Mother why, A?” mary asked her brother, Aryan.
“Aa herself don't know, Dek. Let's just wait here for a second. You want to take care of Mom first,” replied the boy looks anxious mixed with sadness. His mind was wondering too. He hugged Mary to calm down.
While in the room, Basri quickly undressed his wife. Replacing with a new one, accompanied by worry about the condition of the Lastri. ‘He was still breathing ...’ impregnated the man after checking his wife's pulse in the arm and heart rate. ‘Thank God, but ... why can this be, anyway?’
While changing the clothes Lastri earlier, Basri had seen a reddish color in the breast and groin area of his wife, like a new bruise scar. Maybe hit by a floor collision or bathroom door leaf, the man thought without intending to guess other causes. The woman's face looks pale, limp, and at a glance like there is a bias of fear drawn there.
Sitting on the edge of the bed beside his wife's body, Basri could only fall silent. There was nothing he could do to Lastri, except to occasionally stare at the plight of the condition of the woman who had accompanied him to live together for eleven years. ‘Is he tired or still thinking of Bu Bariah's talk, huh? Hhmmm, what a pity my wife,’ he said as he rubbed his face several times accompanied by a snoring jerk. ‘That's a real jerk, tuh, that one neighbor! His mouth cannot be guarded! Huh!’
Then Basri remembered Aryan's words, just before they came home from the musala. “Bapak, really, rarely seen to pray, anyway? Last time Magrib and Isya, I also did not exist.”
The man was shocked.
“Eh, he-he.” Basri scratched his own head. Confused and trying to find a reason for his son's speech. “Bapak ... earlier .. pray in another mosque equally temen, Yan,” he added with a grinning smile. “It just so happened to meet, keep chatting, and all the people praying there. After that, I just picked you up. He-he.”
“Oohh.”
“Eh, but do not say to Mom, yes, if you pray not at the musala where you saw earlier,” pinta the man reminded. Aryan's forehead shriveled, then asked in wonder, “What's the matter, Sir?”
Back Basri scratched his head that did not itch. “Yaaa...why not too, anyway. Cuman .. so that Mother does not mean it and just nagging the same Father. He-he,” he replied hoping big the child would comply with his request about it.
“Ooohh, ‘gitu? Yes, yes, sir,” Aryan said at last.
‘Ah, thank God,’ murmured Basri while stroking the chest, relieved. Though for a long time, the man was no longer able to follow the rituals of his religious obligations. If forced, it can be fatal as it has happened some time ago. His head suddenly dizzy accompanied by a feeling of heat attacking the entire body. At that time, he remembered the message of Ki Jarok first, ‘.... one thing you should always remember, Young man, from this moment away from all rituals that smell of religion and your beliefs. Because those things are what our ancestors hated the most, and will make the power of the corpse rope amulet that you have now fade.’
“Paakkk!”
“Mother is awake, Sir?” asked the eldest Aryan as soon as he entered the room followed by Maryam. Basri shook his head, then replied, “Mother is still sleeping, Yan.”
“Terus?” ask the boy back.
Basri glanced at his wife who was lying on the bed. “We just wait until Mom wakes up later,” he added rather doubtful.
“Mother is sick, yes, Sir?” Maryam also asked among her sobs of sadness.
The cheeked man smiled. He crouched face to face with his daughter. “Maybe just a tadpole, Dek,” replied Basri made it up. “Soooo, yes, let me get up and stay healthy. Tomorrow I will take my mother to Puskesmas.” Maryam nodded slowly, then hugged her father closely followed by Aryan. “Now ... you guys go to sleep, yes. Doesn't it have to be school tomorrow?”
“But Iyam was afraid, Sir,” replied the figure of the little girl with a voice almost whispered near Basri's ear.
“What fear? ‘Kan, usually also used to sleep in Adek Iyam's own room.”
The girl let go of her embrace, then glanced for a moment at Aryan. Like asking the brother to answer Basri's question just now.
“Kalo Bapak is no longer at home, Adek likes to wake up malem-malem and cry, sir,” said Aryan.
“Hah? Masa, anyway?” Basri eyebrows raised high. “Kok, you just found out? I also haven't told you anything about Mr.”
Reply back to the boy, “His habits were only recently, anyway, sir. Previously did not like ‘gitu. But ... since you left did not leave at that time, Adek became strange.”
So weird? Is it weird what happened to Lastri? Does it have anything to do with the ritual she did a few months ago? No. gabe. That can't be happening. Hasn't Ki Jarok already given him special protection from the bad influence of Sukaesih's spirit? Benak Basri so think hard.
Justright. That night Basri several times woke up after driving the children to sleep in their respective rooms. The sound of Maryam's crying forced the man down from the bed beside Lastri. Just look and check the condition of the youngest daughter. Just awake for a while, then the girl was back asleep in the dream, without knowing the cause of her waking up and crying softly.
Passing midnight, Basri woke up suddenly. This time not because of Maryam, but a woman was busy sitting cutting the man's waist while smiling and moving his pelvis back and forth.
“B-buuu ...” sighed Basri between the shock and excitement that suddenly snapped half of his maleness.
“Aaahh, you Basri .. hik-hik!” reply the figure was none other than Lastri, his own wife in a state of plain body, chuckled to herself with the look of my eyes excited.
“K-you ... k-you ...”
“Hik-hik.”
...SERIATE...