THE MYSTERY OF THE OLD TREE
Flower String

The little boy pensively leaned his chin on the window frame, staring out at the occasional passing pedestrian. Occasional silence blankets, only the ticking clockwork of the wall. tick. tok.. tik. tok. is in tune with the rate of irreconcilable change...

Yes, indeed the pace of change is very drastic in the village near the outskirts of this city. In just a matter of a few years, the rice fields had turned into paved roads. A new housing complex was built to meet the increasing demand for human population occupancy that is increasingly exploding.

The sun began to appear towering, the boy was still pensive there, in the frame of the wooden window that still smelled of paint.

“We must think of a strategy to increase sales!” “But a lot of rival products that began to appear,” heard the conversation of two dapper-clad fathers who were seen walking in a hurry.

Not long after, a group of mothers passed by. “Duuh this make-up product is good yes, make the skin so kinclong..” “Wah when we nih narikan at his house Mbok Ani.” “Eh when do you have another child?” while sounding long gossip mixed with giggling sounds.

The little boy simply listened in lethargy without enthusiasm and continued his daydream. It was very likely that the people passing in front of the window frame that no one was aware of her existence.

Then we move on and then we move people. The clock ticked as if it did not care about anything that happened.

Not long after, an old grandfather seemed to stagger, and sounded moaning, “Any old body is hard, young times are like vaporized dew...” with the trembling hands of the grandfather holding his old stick.

The sun began to appear down on the western horizon, spraying a reddish orange hue. The clock ticks as if it doesn't care what happens.

The next day again a little boy was daydreaming in the window frame, staring blankly into the distance. Perdu aloe vera in a pot near the window looks dry, it seems to have long been untreated.

As usual, people were seen passing by. Seconds of the wall clock continued to be heard ticking.

The daydream of a little boy drifted, to the past few years.

A group of small boys are chasing in the rice field. One of the little boys looked smaller than the little boy in the window. One of the smaller boys again exclaimed, “See what I picked up!” “What is it?” another group of children approached. “Rumput?” The boy holding a sprig of grass called out, “This is horsetail grass, magic grass!” while thrusting the grass that ends slightly frayed like a ponytail.

“What's magical?” ask the other boy. The boy who was holding a sprig of grass thrust the end of the grass tuft into his friend's ear and tickled him. “Ha.ha.ha, duh amused,” they also laughed holding amused while tickling each other with grass stalks.

The boy's daydream on the window frame returned to a blank stare. Occasionally only seen then breech for the sake of then tares people. The clock ticked as if it did not care about anything that happened.

Until finally the sun was bidding itself in the western horizon.

The next day again a little boy was daydreaming in the window frame, staring blankly into the distance. Some insects seemed to rush to transport a lump of food into the hole under the window frame. Dark clouds from the morning hung in the sky.

The clock ticked, as if it did not care about anything that happened.

Dark clouds that are not able to withstand the load finally release the incriminating drops of water. The arid dry soil grains vying to absorb the drops of water to echo the sound of a weak sigh. The smell of soil wetted by rain water evaporates.

But the little boy was just daydreaming in the window frame. His mind was like being swept away like the raindrops flowing away.

The next day again a little boy was daydreaming in the window frame, staring blankly into the distance. A few timid-looking weed buds began to gush out from the slightly damp patch of soil.

As usual, people were seen passing by. Seconds of the wall clock continued to be heard ticking.

The little boy just kept daydreaming, the sun seemed to start rising. The cycle of change kept on going, as if it did not care about anything that happened.

In a daydream that was deepening and deepening, suddenly the little boy was stunned. Near the window frame stood a smiling little girl, thrusting her a flower. A very beautiful flower, as beautiful as the heart of such a sincere little girl.

Even a small smile appeared to expand at the corner of the little boy's lips.

**** NAME ****