Ananda Diandri

The guards were just greedy workers, easy to bribe. They didn’t work for government, just normal workers. The cleft was positioned near the blue dressed ladies patrol area. They are one unusual kind but rather calming despite being desperate as they went through the road passing papers, free papers of invitation. Though not as aggressive as the lady in red, not at all even, however if people like him went through their way, they’d rather pretended they didn’t see you rather than giving out papers. For a normal bystanders that is, however, he had fire on his cloak. Meant if someone who worked with the government saw him, he was fucked. He used to resent it then he got older and jaded, suddenly it didn’t matter much anymore. It became something much important, he evolved. The world was rough and he would became as rough as the world progress. If the world decided to become a monster, so would he. Then his life changed him into someone even more jaded and tired, his heart softened but not brown map in his hands that felt heavy like a rock on his shoulder. Aegelweard walked through a damp alley that would led him into one way street and a few doors painted blue, using the symbolism of a chess instead of a blood red number like his supposed waiting room. He scrutinized every detail the alley had. Unfortunately, Aegelweard never went past the gate to inspect his surroundings. There were more than two dead rats, crushed, and red pooling around them. Stray kittens, death caused of hunger. Moss beside him and below him. He reached out to touch the wall, running his hand on the moss, bringing it to his nose. It smelt like the earth. Below him there was water and mud, not only mosses, but mud. He again, couldn’t care less about something as miniscule as this. Dirty pants, a soaked shoes, and a pathetic wrecked cloak. The passage he was about to pass, which was “Route One: The Blue Dressed Ladies.” After that, little birdies had news for him much further in the past than the time now, after passing one route, you’d meet another route, that was through another gate—much smaller than The Wayward Gate and new— you could enter the numbers on your name tag and finally considered as a ‘part-time residence’. He was only there to go to a small village. When Aegelweard finally reached the first route. His senses were tingling, reacting to what surrounded him. The shrill sounds of laughers, the smell of fresh baked bread, and the symbols all around him. Almost trapping him. There was a small parade, it seemed, went on and on in one of the room. A quite exciting melodies, yet, not enchanting. It is supposed that music weren’t really the blue’s best quirk. Aegelweard hunched his back, tried to move quietly hoping nobody could see him. Wishing nobody would make it harder than it already was. His shoulders started to ache and his nose blocked as if he went to another dimension. Which wasn’t really wrong, metaphorically? But wrong, if it was literally. Nobody tried to get too close to him. There were at least two metres for anyone who passed by him. A twitch on the lips and satisfaction were what he wore all the time through the first route. The rat worked. Or at least he thought. It was either the rat or the fire. Then he reached the small gate, which guarded not as The Wayward Gate. He approached the man behind the glass, the security. This one was quite young, even more unbearable as he spoke ten words per second and acted like entitled little boy . This gate was created from a firm, most desirable, steel. Strong, protective, secure. Aegelweard pressed a green button his gloved hands after he received his name tag back. There were no feelings of desire and no shrill sounds emitted from the gate. No hesitation in his steps, only a young man who hunch his back rather than faltering his steps. With all he had, there was a strong need to go back to the Wayward Gate and leave. He couldn’t calm down after a few minutes counting sheeps in his head, he needs cigs, smoke and the dread of world. Death had never veiled itself, rather, human veiled their face taking chances so Death wouldn’t know. But death always knew. Room number 4. Red painted with a little bit of crack here and there and it was quite humid inside. Apparently not everyone had arrived according to many young men sitting on an old rug, some lying on it, as if they were a prisoner for life. They might choose to be a prisoner for life, better stop before comitting. Aegelweard easily walked through the people who were resting, found himself a spot near the back-door. He was glad when he sat down, the small crack of the door provided him a little bit of fresh air and coolness. Though his upper body experienced humidity, the rest of it enjoyed the breeze. He could live with that, it wasn’t a big deal. At least only few hours left and he would be walking along around the small village inside. By the time they let him out it was already dark and cold. Aegelweard tried to maintain a good posture as people walked by him He walked through cleft to cleft carefully. Most clefts were dark and murky, dead rats and starving animals could be seen more as he getting nearer and nearer to his destination. A small village called Owwen. The people in the same room as him were already cluttered all around him, he could see a few of familiar faces. They were all alike him, tattered cloaks and long faces. As he approached a gate made by wood—there was cracks here and there—it looked pathetic, seeing it couldn’t hold on to protect the village. It was vulnerable and he thought he might change the gate himself as he opened the gate and a piece of sharp wood pierced through his skin, blood dropped little by little after he pulled out the wood out of his palm. Aegelweard sighed; he looked back at the gate before making his way inside the village. Though it wasn’t really far from the Wayward Gate, the scenery was completely different, he thought. The stars were shining bright above his head, like a light promising him a comfortable stay. But all that was a lie because the place reeked of dogs’ piss and cheap cigarettes. His shoes soiled with the wet ground as it emitted a wet sound. He saw a house made out of ___ and ___ without a gate, because there was not even one house with gate in this village, nothing would be stolen. Unless people noticed what he gave out each month. He couldn’t let anyone found out or not only his life would be in danger but the people he knew too. The clefts were as dark as the sky, emitting a wet splashing sound as his feet touched the ground. A few of dead animals accidentally stomped on due to the darkness he quite used to however at the same time not. He was no cat, he couldn’t see through veiled world. His whole body shaking in coldness around him. At certain times, he wished the fire at the back of his cloak could warm his world again. His world no longer is a warm place to be, it was cruel and merciless he could only wished for a different fate bestowed upon him rather than what he had. What was bestowed upon him like a curse. He didn’t need another curse happening to him. A careful mind-set was what saved him from getting caught by the Red suited ladies and blue suited ladies earlier in the day. However when the night came, everything became different. - He ran as fast as he could. He couldn’t let the hands touching him and ruining him. He knew he was being chased when he turned into a corner of a street, he saw the red suited ladies at the corner of his eyes. They were strong, even more than him. He couldn’t breathe but it seemed he had no control over his feet. Breathlessly he looked left and right. Aegelweard needed a safe and stable place; he couldn’t let madness got to him like there was tomorrow. – “Let go of me!” Screamed Aegelweard the moment Red Suited Ladies reached him, panic struck him into oblivion. I couldn’t get caught! I couldn’t get caught! He screamed inside his mind. It wasn’t all new to him when the grip of Red Suited Ladies made contact with his skin, he wouldn’t be free. In his mind, flashing all kind of rooms. A dark room where he sat as a man who held no future and bones jutting out his skin. A woman would peeked at him, pathetically whimpering for freedom and forgiveness on his knees. I couldn’t get caught! I couldn’t get caught! He screamed again, his breath labored. His vision darkened and his body full of goose bumps. “Calm down, young man,” One of Red Suited Ladies said, monotonous, “Don’t struggle, we don’t want violence here, now do we? Do you?” Aegelweard was still struggling; striking all directions he was able to. He struck one of the Red Suited Ladies’ faces with his elbow. He hears hissed voice near his ear. All he cared about now was escaping. From Red Suited Ladies, from the government and go home. Despite the ruckus they were causing, nobody dared to help him. - (SEVERED HEADS, FORBID ENTRANCE; SMALL TOWN, BARN, GREENS) the next word would be orphanage, (SEVERED HEADS, FORBID ENTRANCE; SMALL TOWN, BARN, GREENS; ORPHANAGE). It was built around 1971, officially became the only orphanage at Owwen. Two-storied building, walls were gilded and firm. The bones were made out of the finest wood found. Dark brown painted on the entrance door which gave a sense of elegance, however, the ending of all the finest and most esquisite parts of Shepherd Home was the outside and all the rooms the public was allowed to see. It wasn’t a dark tale, Shepherd Home had no luck in finding donaturs, some of them lasted years—but they came and went away. Inside, it was carbuncle. The wood door protecting a bedroom for 45 to 50 children wasn’t created out of the finest wood, rather a cheap one. The rooms were dank and everyday the children would clean it up only to find it was dirtied by dust. It was damp. There were single beds with the same amount of the children and each children would use the same bed until they grew up, unless there was enough money. In Aegelweard eyes, Shepherd Home was truly a home for him. He played with other children and became best friends, told a tale, and shared blankets together on the floor sometimes. They might not be the richest orphanage, but, they had enough foods and drink. They did not starve. Remembering it made him happy. Now as an adult he came back again to the same building where he grew up. The Shepherd Home was still standing and open. He hoped his presence would welcomed inside this community. He rang the bell a few times before one of the housemothers opened the door for him. He noticed a slight difference in the uniform she used as his former housemothers. The old one was more of a traditional clothes. He was not at all surprised, years had passed. The thing that stayed the same for years would be the logo of shepherd on the left breast side. “Good morning..” He looked down and found no ring on the housemother’s hand and a tag name on the right breast side, “Good morning, Ms. Adeleine, my name is Aegelweard Cliff. I was a former resident and student on Shepherd Home. May I please come in?” The woman—taller than him, lanky, dark-skinned, wavy hair—Ms. Adeleine looked at him for a few seconds before nodding and stepped away from the entrance. Aegelweard entered with a polite nod of his own. Ms. Adeleine was eyeimg the suitcases he bought with him, he bit his lips before asking; “I was wondering if I can stay here for a few days,” Aegelweard explained once they were inside, Ms. Adeleine led them into the guest office. “I’ll have to run that with my supervisor, would you like me to do that Mr. Cliff?” Asked Ms. Adeleine. “Please, Ms. Adeleine.” “However, if my supervisor says no, I can not let you stay here for the night and if you refuse to budge, I’ll have the securities remove you from this ground immediately. However, if you want to stay before the curfew for guests, you’re allowed to do so. Understood, Mr. Cliff?” Ms. Adeleine’s expression hardened, her tone of speaking firm and authoritive. Having no problem with the rules, Aegelweard simply nodded at the statement, “Then, if you’ll excuse me,” Ms. Adeleine left him alone in the guest office. Aegelweard stood up from where he sat and watched the familiar environment. The last time he was on this room dated on August 12th, 1997. When he was 10 year old and a couple adopted him. With his little feet and clenched jaw, unspoken words kept inside for years. The old guest office had a burgundy color and the smell of trees as the window was opened often, before, it didn’t have his picture hanging around the wall. But now that he came back, there was one frame of a picture of he and his friends, the group of friends which entered in the same year. His teeth was crooked, he was bald, and eyes full of mirth. By the time he finished looking around, Ms. Adeleine entered. Aegelweard looked at her, trying not to feel hopeful. Surely staying at Kevin’s house was quite alright except he didn’t want to, he respected the man but not when faced without barrier with his friend’s addiction. “My supervisor allowed you to stay here, Mr. Cliff, I’m assigned to show you where you’re going to stay in,” Said Ms. Adeleine, then she began to explain where he was going to stay and a few ground rules, “You’re going to stay with a few staffs. We have a few spare beds because some staffs resigned. By staying here you’re not going to be treated like a guest, rather another staff due to the short hands we have on taking care our children and the building. You’ll help without being paid, however, we will serve your foods and drinks alike just like any other staffs. The job you’re going to do will be explained later after you’ve settled down in your room and unpacked, you’re given two hours to do that. After that you must come to the southwing building and asked for Ms. Brianna. Do you have a question?” “Does staff allowed to explore the building?” “Yes, there are no grounds here you are not allowed to explore. Now, shall we?” Both Aegelweard and Ms. Adeleine walked side-by-side—Aegelweard’s eyes didn’t stop wandering around and mouth opened as they explored more sides of the Shepherd Home—they encountered a few children, maybe at the age of 10 to 12 running around giggling, trying to outrun each other. Though before they passed them by, Ms. Adeleine knelt down. She asked so they three not to make a ruckuss around, a pat on each children’s back. It seemed Ms. Adeleine showed more than enough compassion than his housemother—oh, how he loved his housemother and her voice that could rival the bird when she sung to him, but she was really strict. “You seem to love the children very much.” “I do. They’re a ray of sunshine that must be treated very well, no children should have a bad childhood. It’s an important time for them. The word ‘home’ in this orphanage is not only a word, but an action that needs to be proven,” A small smile formed on Ms. Adeleine’s face, softening her feature. There was an age crinkles around her eyes and the reflection of mother the moment she talked about the children. He agreed with her, though he did not say it. No children should have a bad childhood. They reached a room with one plate name, below it there was another place where you slide another plate name but this one was empty. Belonged to the former staff. Ms. Adeleine opened the door and a sound of protest emitted from inside the room. A man in his twenties looked at them in distaste. “You could’ve knocked,” Protested the man. “I’m sorry, staff William. If I had known you were changing clothes, I would’ve knocked,” Ms. Adeleine said monotonously, still, she bowed her head down in a form of respect.