Flash Fiction: Corporal Adjo and The Shaman

Yogi Supriyadi/180410150052

Shaman:

I want to tell you a story. Actually I can’t handle this one without telling this secret to other. I once had seen a soldier which was crying on an on, mourning his lost. I saw him buried a bottled paper bellow the sand, and his loyal mate tried to make Adjo to cheer up his sadness with bottles of Tuak. So, this is the paper that I have found.

Dear Nurdjanah,

I hope there is no win-war

I have made everyone happy, but I am?

I’m not blaming this win

Those fuc*ing English is which I blame

How dare, they killed and harmed you

Thinking about you, every night in the same bed

I think I want to die in war

So, there is no misery

Nowadays, even when I write this

I always having sweet dreams about you

About your love, pure and nobody have it

Soerabaya, 17 September 1945

I had met Adjo, talked about this letter and he agreed with dromotjorokontjo (jampi that could make time go back). His only mission is: to win the war without sorrow.

Adjo:

I remembered the night before, I was drinking tuak to forget the sorrow. A Shaman approached me to offer dromotjorokontjo. Now it is 16th august 1945.

“Wake up, soldier. It’s time to celebrate.” Nurdjanah said

I have had heard this before, exactly the same words and intonation. This is effect of dromotjorokontjo that shaman have gave me to change this sorrowing life that I had before.

“I’ve died, Nur. No, it was living with dying together like bakwan dough. ”

“Your nightmare is it, Djo? Bakwan dough? Hahaha you are making me laugh, even this day is critical time” She kissed me, and whispered “I will make bakwan after you come back.” She said. I heard it very gratefully.

So, after visited the proclamation I went back to home and ate bakwan.

This is different now, I was drinking Tuak with sorrow and now I’m eating Bakwan with my love”

10th November 1945 did not changed, English came like it was. It’s rewinding exactly with the same memory I had before. So, I was in front line in war. I didn’t care, die is better than sorrow. But, some of Surabaya’s soldiers were following. We were separated, in battlefield with bang-banging sound of machine gun. We were running through forest.

Finally, I was arrived in my destination, my house. I found nothing inside, and shouted where my Nurdjanah is. Next door, nothing found. Until finally, I heard a lot of woman were shouting and found there was my Nurdjanah and another woman is tricked too with English bastard around. I won’t lose her for twice and we initiated war in this village. Until *there was no sound left*

Shaman:

I’m glad I have had helped him. Now he is happy. But hey, why is bakwan? I see him every morning now selling bakwan. Well, it is not sorrow anymore though.

Word Count: 494

References: Butterfly Effect, A Sound of Thunder, 2 point of views by Flipped.

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