AND THE STORY BEGINS by Rina Tri Lestari (snow like ashes txt) 📕

"NO" IS NOT A WORD

Once there was a girl, a sweet little girl. Her name was Sara. Sara lived in a village where the sun first rose. A beautiful village with a small but clean river flowed right from the hills. It was her father who named her Sara, a name which also belonged to her late mother. Sara and her father lived in a small but nice wooden house with a big front yard. It was an old house, as old as a big oak tree in the right side of the yard.
Sara’s father was a farmer, like most of the people in the village. Early in the morning he woke up and went to his farm to see how his plant grew. A sweet little girl was still dreaming. A nice weather, indeed, cold in the night, warm in the day and fresh in the morning was what Sara wouldn’t asked for more. Not so many friends she had for there were not many children of her age in the village. Never had she found it hard to please her heart.
“Daddy!” she shouted.
His father smiled, looking at his angel came along reminded him of his beloved wife who had gone for some deadly disease a month after giving birth to her beautiful daughter.
“You’re awake.”
“Yes,” said her happily. “Daddy…”
“Yes, Sugar.”
“Am I pretty?”
His father smiled, not really, he laughed.
“Yes, you are, Sugar. You are my beautiful angel, always.”
“Thank you. Can I go to the river?”
“Yes, you can. Just go but be careful. The river flooded because of the heavy rain last night.”
“I will be daddy. I just want to pick some wild roses in the bank of the river.”
His father nodded. Then off she went. The river was just behind their house. Her father was right, the river flooded. After picking some wild roses, she would put them in the jar then placed them in the dining table, she came back to the house. She knew at this time her father would be home, drinking his coffee.
“Look Daddy, aren’t they beautiful?” asked her as she entered the kitchen.
“Yes Darling, they are indeed.”
“They also smell good. Daddy, can I ask you something?”
“What is it Darling?”
Sara took a seat right in front of his father. She put the roses on the table.
“Yesterday when I went to Lily’s house her mother said something weird. I never heard that before Daddy. She said to Lily just like this…”
She paused for a second or two then said again in a high tone.
“Look at you, you messy little thing. No, you can’t go out and play. I won’t let you. What was she trying to say Daddy?”
Sara’s father put his cup of coffee back on the table. With a low voice, he said to Sara.
“I think she’s just learning how to talk Darling. It looked like she’s mumbling more than talking, anyway.”
“She also said that Lily was not beautiful. What was that Daddy?”
“You know, Sugar, every girl is beautiful. Lily, you, all of your friends, they are indeed beautiful.”
“Mommy?”
“Yes, mommy’s beautiful too.”
“Do you love me, Daddy?”
“Yes, I do Darling.”
“Did mommy love me?”
“Yes, she did.”
“Can I see her, Daddy?”
“Yes, you can, later.”
“I love you Daddy,” said her.
“I love you too Darling.”
Sara took the roses from the table then went to the shelves, in the corner of the kitchen, to find the jar. After filling it with water, she put the roses in it and put it back on the dining table where her father sat still.
“Daddy, can I go to Tom’s house. He promised that he will lend me his story book if I come to his house today.”
“Yes, you can go Darling. Just be back before lunch.”
“Okay, I will Daddy, I will,” screamed her in joy.
Off she went. She ran as she left the house for she could not wait to see Tom, to read his story book. Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Sara’s father looked at the roses in dismay. Time had passed, still he could not forget his wife. How could he forget her, her eyes? Her eyes were the eyes that he had to see every single day in Sara’s?
“No, Sugar, you can’t see your mommy. A no may not be a word but I won’t let you go. You’re my angel, my beautiful angel,” he said in a deep sad voice.”

***

I WAS (NOT) A GIRL

Once upon a time, there was a girl who had spent most of her life believing that she was not a girl. She was like, you know, a soul which was trapped in a wrong body. People said she was not a girl, something she did not understand, something that several years later made her felt that it was not right to be in her body. Something kept saying, over and over, that she was not a girl, thing that then led her to the belief that she was indeed not a girl. She did not look like a girl. She did not act like a girl. She did not want to be a girl.
Time passed, still, she was not girl enough, not to her self, not to some other people. In the nights when darkness covered mother earth, she fought for a sleep, a dead asleep sleep. Then, she talked to the Lord.
“It isn’t mine. I don’t want this body. Dear Lord, if You’re really there, give my body back, the body I deserve to be into,” said her.
People said she was not a girl, well they didn’t have to, for she already knew. She could not cry. She did not want to cry. A not-girl did not have the right to cry, she was actually forbidden to cry. She was a fighter. She was not a quitter. Fighters fought, they did not cry. So when the night fell and she could not fell asleep, again and again she talked, not really, she condemned the Lord.
“Dear Lord, still I call You so, it’s the million times for me talking to You, begging You. A million times like many sleepless nights I have to deal with every single day. Give me a body, the right body for me. I am not a girl, how could You give me such a nasty body?”
Well yes, every moment she looked at her reflection in the mirror she felt nasty. A fair face she did not want to look at to, a black long hair she wish she could just cut it off, a bright complexion she tanned all summer times, wishing that it would be darken, were not what she wanted.
“I am not a girl, I don’t want to be a girl!” shouted her.
And where was the Lord? People said He was there, deep in her heart, flew through her blood. She just could not find Him. In the night when everybody was asleep she came to the Lord again.
“If You’re really there then I’ll see Your reflection somehow,” whispered her.
She came closer to the mirror on the wall, looked at her own reflection. Fighting her doubt, she started to talk. She knew the Lord would hear her.
“I will not say anything, ever, but this last saying. I am not a girl and will never be. I don’t care what You will say, I don’t even care if You’re really exist. You gave me the wrong body, I’ll give You this!”
After saying that, she took scissors from the drawer and began to cut her hair off. There was anger in her eyes, a disappointment to the Lord. Her hairs began to fall. They scattered all over her bedroom floor. Weird, she did not feel satisfied, not as she had imagined before that she would be just fine. On the contrary, she felt so miserable, hollow. She threw the scissors away and began to weep.
“I am not a girl, I don’t want this body. I don’t even want these tears,” screamed her.
She cried. A not-girl cried, realizing that she could no longer deny that she was truly a girl, a girl who was no longer able to hold the drop of her tears.

***

A GIRL WHO REFUSES TO GROW UP

She is a girl, say she is. She’s living in a world, yes, call it her world, a world where lies are served not only for breakfast but also for supper. Roses bloom, phony people roam, side by side. Everybody yells, good or bad, silence’s scarce. She is a girl, full of dreams though hopes sometimes strangle. Build her own castle where she finds her own heaven. Heaven? Yes, she is not lying. She feels the heaven, no, she sees it. But what is heaven for a girl who refuses to grow up like her?

Rain
It’s always amazing to watch how the sky cries. Tears drop just like a broken hearted girl, left by her loved one, so sad but so true. The deepest feeling is in blue. She gives her smile sometimes laughter not to mock for she is no hater. She loves the rain as she loves her mother, can’t be touched but always there for her.

Books
Words are diamond, flow like water, hot like fire. Strings of words, heart to heart, are not only read but also written. Books keep the memories. She recalls her sadness, sometimes tragedies, pours them into her black diary. Words in a book fly her to the past, long time ago, when happiness isn’t only a dream. Which one is better, to write or to read? Both, says her.

Train
Iron wheels move on the same track, everyday. It’s not free, it never stops her, to feel the rhythm, to feel the air. Look out the window, there’s always another heaven. No silence here, never she finds it hard to create for her own. Choo…choo! Choo…choo! Here it goes. Dear train, take me with you. Bring me to your world, says her.

River
She is a river. Call her fire but she’s a river. Wanna stop her? You better be a good swimmer. She’ll drown you to her world. Speaks so loud, that’s how she sounds. Say whatever you like but don’t forget to look at her, look at her eyes. What do you see? Yes, she is a girl, a girl who refuses to grow up for the Lord never allows the old one to enter His heaven.

***

A GIRL WITH A HUGE BACKPACK

4.26 pm

The clock is ticking, a girl is waiting for the time to pass by. Sitting on a bench, facing the lake, she seems mellow. A huge backpack beside her is a true friend in a hollow afternoon. Looking just like two people staring at the nothingness, they stay still. The sun begins to set. The sky is getting darker. There is no wind, if you ask. There is nothing, if I may say, but a girl with a huge backpack.

7.40 pm
Same place, same face, a girl is still waiting. Not knowing what to fight for, she freezes. A huge backpack sits still. A silent companion keeps its promise. Still, there is no wind. Still, they’re stiff, for hollowness breezes. No beat of a heart, for it’s already left somewhere unknown. No light, no sound, it’s all about a girl, her huge silent companion and still, the nothingness.