“Such a pretty doll”, my master said. He was smiling. I liked to see him smile. Especially when he laid his eyes on me. A charming man. The one I’ve always adored.
He picked me up in the middle of October. It was a cold evening. I was laying on a trash can, after my previous master dumped me. My hand was broken, as well as my legs. My previous master used to play with me roughly. He tore my hand and legs while he kissed me. I couldn’t complain. I was his toy anyway.
In the cold, almost winter, my master just happened to pass by the lane. There. He saw me. He was standing there in front of me, saying, “Oh…”. And his hand slowly reached me. It was a gentle touch. Then he took me home.
In the next morning, he gave me a bath. He cleaned the dirt and dust on my body. Eventhough, a stain remain unclean. A stain of blood. But he didn’t bothered. After the bath, he put me on his balcony and left. An hour… three hours… twelve hours… He left me at the balcony the whole night. He didn’t pick me up, eventhough he was home. I knew he was home, because I heard him humming.
He left me there until the next day. If it was raining, I could have been soaked wet. Or I might soaked in tears, feeling abandoned.
He showed up in the next morning.
“Bonjour, ma chérie…” He said.
Chérie. What a lovely name. He picked me up gently. He held my body, as he put me on his lap. Such a lovely warmth. Then I saw something sharp and shiny. A needle. And sewings.
I was so scared. My eyes soaked in tears. If I could runaway, I would. My body was trembling.
“It’s okay, ma chérie… it’ll only gonna hurt a little”, he whispered.
I felt stung, as he thrust the needle in me. I felt it moving, as well as the thread when it followed the needle ahead. I felt pain as they moved in and out. It felt like hell, but I knew he was fixing me. He sewed me.
After the moment of horror, he stopped. He moved my hand and legs. I felt better, like I was in a good shape again. He raised me up, higher to the sky. He took a real good look at me. Then he smiled.
“There you are”, he said. “A fine doll, petit and cute”.
I was blushing. If only he could see my cheeks turn to red. At that moment, I knew that I fell in love with him.
He put me on a shelf, among his records and books. I used to sit between “Liliput” and “Madam Bovary”. In front of me, I could see his desk, where he used to write on his computer. Or he was just drawing on the floor. Or sometimes on another place I couldn’t see from where I sit. And sometimes he played some music. The music I didn’t recognize before. After few days, I could see that he has a totally different taste from my previous master. And a totally different attitude, but somehow similar. Which sometimes gave me a very tense feeling, while he played with me. Often made me nervous and fascinated at the same time.
I always liked it when my master played with me. He often changed my outfit. Cute dresses and skirts.
“It suits you better”, he used to say.
How I would like to be kissed by those lips. Especially when he said sweet things. But he did not kiss me. Not after few weeks. Even so, he used to lift my skirt and touch me with his fingers. Or sometimes, he took me to his bed, before he was going to sleep. And the next evening, he found me there again, on his bed and not moving. And he would say, “Oh…”. Then he lifted my skirt again, or undressed me. Or he would touch my lips, or nose, or play with my hair.
But there were also time, when he didn’t pay attention at all. I was on his bed, but he acted as if I wasn’t there. Or maybe pretend he didn’t see me. Or he did see me, but then he moved me away. Put me back on the shelf. Again. Between “Liliput” and “Madam Bovary”. I felt so alone. I felt sad when he didn’t lay his eyes on me. But there was nothing I could do. Tears were dropping from my eyes, but he didn’t see me. And I felt abandoned, more than ever before.
I knew he was busy. I often found him working until late at night. When he woke up, he used to eat a little, and then continue his work. And after a while, he would take a shower and leave. And when he came back, he would cook for himself his dinner, and then continue his work. He even sometimes fell asleep on his desk. But I couldn’t help myself feeling abandoned.
One day, he found me crying on my shelf.
“Oh… Why?…”, he asked. He reached me, and placed me on his lap. He wiped my tears. His face turned sad. And it made me sad, to see him sad. So I tried not to cry again. He kissed my nose. And I felt warmth.
The next day, he took me to his bed. And talked about a lot of things. How I wished I could answer. He turned his face to me and smiled. His fingers slowly undressed me. I could hear him sigh. And he started to kiss me, gently and passionate. I was in heaven.
In the middle of September, the next year after he picked me up, he came with something on his hand. He came right towards me and took me with one hand.
“Look what I’ve got for you”, he said with a smile on his face.
A choker. A black and elegant one. I liked it. He wrapped it around my neck.
“You are mine”, he gently whispered. “You are my doll…” he whispered another words and kissed my lips. I was so happy, I could die.
The next day, he dressed me up. I was wearing a special dress, I supposed. He made my hairdo, tied them in ponytail. And he smeared lipgloss on my lips. He was smiling.
“Such a delicious doll”, he said. I was blushed with happiness.
And later he took me out. He put me next to him, while he was humming and driving his car. We arrived in an apartement. He took me upstairs, I guess it was one of his friend’s place.
A guy showed up from behind the door, where my master knocked. He is old. Older than my master, and not very sexy. He greet my master, and he saw at a glance of me. Later he was having dinner with my master, while talking about how pretty I was.
After few hours, my master asked for leave. The guy said, it was really nice to meet him, and took him to the door. But my master left me on the cahir. He didn’t take me home. I was screaming in silent. How I wished he would turn around and take me with him. But he didn’t. He went home without me.
I was nearly crying when his friend came toward me. He has a mischevious smile. I didn’t like him.
“What a lovely dress you are wearing”, he said, “let’s see what’s underneath it”.
I felt choked. I felt my body was trembling, when he undressed me. He was smiling all the time. And his breath begun ti rush, when he took off every fabrics that wrapped me. I was so ashamed. How I wished that it was my master’s eyes who was looking at me.
The night felt so slow. He was using me. He played with me as he liked. I couldn’t complain. It was a mixed of emotions. The feelings of being in someone else’s hand. The hands of a stranger who touched me. And kissed me. It felt awkward and it made me so discomfort. But yet, I was so fascinated of how he desired me. How he felt pleasure when he played with me. I was so ashamed.
My master came to pick me up the next day. I almost burst with cry, when he walked into the room. Yes, he could be so mean sometimes. When he entered the room, he didn’t even look at me. He greet his friend, had a drink and talked. Sometimes with laughter. I was waiting, on a stranger’s bed who just played with me.
After a while, my master turned around to me. He looked at me with a smile on his face. He caressed my hair.
“Shall we go home now, ma chérie?”, he said.
I really wanted to nod and jump to his arm. But I couldn’t. I waited until he took me to his arm. It was crazy. I was happy and sad at the same time.
Within less than an hour, I was home again, at my master’s place. He didn’t talk much. All I heard was his breathing. He threw me to his bed as soon as we entered the room. And he threw himself on top of me. He played with me, with such a desire I’ve never felt before. I heard nothing… only his passionate breathing on my surface…
It was a fine morning, when I found myself on his bed. And my master was asleep, peacefully. I was waiting until he open his eyes. A few moment, maybe it was ten minutes, or twenty. Then he opened his eyes, and looked at me.
“Bonjour, ma chérie”, he said, “you were a delicious doll last night”.
And I’m happy that I’m in his hand again. Later he took me back to the shelf. He fixed my dress and hair.
“Now… you’ll sit here correctly until I get back”, he says, “you’ve been a good doll, and you’ll remain mine”. Once again, I was in heaven.
Kehidupan bisa membuat seseorang gila. Suara-suara di bawah sana, bisingnya kehidupan. Suara dapur mengepul. Juga bunga-bunga yang bermekaran. Siap dipetik. Indah. Mematikan.
Adikku yang malang, Mathilda. Dia di bawah sana mengumpulkan bunga. Terjaga setiap harinya saat matahari menanjak naik. Mengumpulkan bunga. Menjadi sasaran saat si Tuan Tanah berang. Lalu pulang ke rumah malam hari. Selalu lelah. Pergi tidur untuk keesokan harinya bangun kembali, dan mengulang hal yang sama.
Kasihan. Dia bekerja hingga ia lupa siapa dirinya. Pertanyaan yang belum tuntas terjawab. Lalu mau apa dia dalam hidup? Aku bisa melihat dia berlari menuju kematiannya. Tangan-tangan lentik itu… Tangan-tangan itu akan membunuh dirinya sendiri… Perlahan namun pasti. Bunuh diri seperti Rimbaud, di usia ketika Mathieu Delarue terjaga. Sungguh pilu.
Mathilda, menolehlah sejenak. Berhentilah sejenak. Berhentilah sejenak dari waktu yang memacumu. Dan dari tangan-tangan yang mengendalikanmu. Demi langit dan isinya, kau berhak akan dirimu.
Sunyi sejenak. Lalu ia pun menoleh.
Background illustration by: http://arwenarts.deviantart.com/art/BEACH-BACKGROUND-STOCK-II-147354521
“PAPAAA…” rufe ich. Dann renne ich zum Keller, wo er arbeitet.
“Frida… Mein Schatz… Was ist passiert?” fragt er.
“Ich möchte diese Blumen nicht mehr sammeln!”
“Warum? Machst Du es nicht gern?” fragt er.
“Ja, Papa! Ich hasse es!”
“HAHAHA…” lacht er. “Bist Du böse auf Deinen Chef?”
“Ja, Papa “.
“HAHAHAHAHA….” Sein Lachen ist lauter geworden.
“Papa,.. Warum lachst Du?”
“Hahaha… Frida… Frida…” Sein Lachen ist jetzt leiser geworden.
“Es langweilt mich, dort zu arbeiten”, sage ich.
“Ja.. Ja.. Ich verstehe das”, sagt er.
“Was soll ich machen?” frage ich.
“Eine Revolution, mein Schatz! Eine Revolution!” ruft er. “JOIN THE REVOLUTION!!!”
“Das ist richtig, Papa! Du hast recht!!” rufe ich auch.
“Ja, natürlich! Ich habe immer recht!” sagt er.
“Hurra! Ja, Papa!” freue ich mich jetzt.
Ich werde mich vorbereiten und werde den Garten verlassen.
17. 12. 2012
I’m peeking to the next circle, there is fire everywhere.
“What is this place?” I murmured.
“Hell”, he said.
“I don’t believe in hell”, I said. “Heaven and hell are just a matter of conception. I don’t believe in such things, not anymore”.
“Yes, you should”, he said. “You are in hell”.
“So this is hell?” I questioned him. “If hell is on earth, then what is the afterlife?”
He is quiet, such a stupid man. I stepped forward.
“Where are you going?” he asked me.
“You think? I’m going forward”, I answered.
“Don’t”, he said.
“Because you are mine”.
“Who said that I’m yours? I’m a free soul”.
“No, you’re not. You belong to me”.
“Bullshit,… I don’t belong to you, Virgil. Not anymore”.
“Don’t do this to me!”
“Stay here with me and accompany me. This is our home”.
“No, it isn’t. This is your home, not mine”.
There was silence.
“Virgil, you suppose to take me to that fake paradise. But as far as I can see, this is only a vicious circle. I see no heaven. And this isn’t hell either. You just brought anyone to get caught in your vicious circle to accompany you, as many as you can get. That’s just simply what you are”.
“So you’re gonna go find another Virgil to replace me?”
“No. I need no Virgil. I have myself… And my Lord…”
“So, you’re gonna leave me here?”
“You could have leave this place yourself. But you just won’t do that. It’s just simply you”.
“And you’re gonna leave me here…”
“Yeah, because it’s just simply me,” I said. “Bye.. bye.. Virgil,.. I’m quite sure I still gonna hear you sound. It’s just who you are. But at that time,.. it’ll be being-qua-being”.
He is silent. And I finally set myself free.
Komm her, die Sonne!
Der Himmel ist sehr dunkel.
Komm her, die Sonne!
Sag mir, ich bin nicht allein.
Wo bist du, das Licht?
Wo bist du?
Ich sehne nach dir.
Komm her, der Wind.
Komm her, bitte!
Sag ihm daß ich weine.
Der Schatten umarmt mich.
Kein Licht kann ich sehen.
Kein warmes Licht scheint auf meiner Haut.
Es ist dunkel, so dunkel.
Ich bin hungrig, und ich bin durstig.
Mein Gott, gib mir Kraft bitte!
Ich weine, und ich bin so alleine.
Aber ich muß diesen Weg absolvieren.
Die Nacht ist dunkel.
Und, der Rabe singt nicht mehr.
Ich bin jetzt allein.
Im dunklen Wald.
Ich will das Ende suchen.
Das Licht. Das Licht.
Wo ist es?
Ich vermisse das Licht.
Gib mir ein Paar Flügel.
Ich möchte zum Himmel fliegen.
Mein Lieber, ich habe Sehnsucht nach dir.
Der Tag ist ruhig.
Und, der Adler brummt nicht mehr.
Ich weine jetzt.
In hellen falschen Paradies.
Ich muss meinen Weg absolvieren.
Die Sonne. Die Sonne.
Wo ist sie?
Kann ich sie umarmen?
Dann, lass das Feuer mich brennen.
Denn, sehne ich mich seiner Berührung.
Mein Lieber, ich bin zu dir begehrend.
Und, würde ich durch seiner Strahlung sterben.
Dann, würde ich durch seiner Strahlung geboren sein.