The Horror Story
From Behind the Window

This house is too big for me, I used to occupy a building that is more suitable to be called a cage than a residence. From that moment on I declared this room to be mine, and all the utensils in it were mine. From up here, I can see little kids playing in the park next to this house every afternoon. In the evening, I could see lovers spending their nights on the swings that had been in the park for a long time.

I can't remember when I started living in this room, I can't even remember when I occupied this house. Yesterday, from this room I was screaming in frustration. But for nothing, the children could not hear my voice.

This house is different from the other houses in this complex. I once eavesdropped on the conversation of two parents who were talking about the rooms in this house. They, the old men told me about the great fire fifteen years ago.

“Sungkowo is really a person who has a mature artistic spirit, this house was built with good planning.” said one of the parents. From his voice, this old man must be an old man who drank a lot of liquor. My estimate predicts the old man's age to be eighties or so.

“ya, he planned well, even to plan the fire that hit this house. I heard he was hiding something in a room in this house. Some kind of notebook. The police were desperate and thought the note had vanished from the fire. Honey, he has to end up like that” said the other parent.

I had been browsing through all the rooms, but I did not find the notebook that the two old men had told me about.

This house consists of two large sections, the lower room and the upper room. The lower room is a car garage, a spacious room that for many people is called the living room, Sungkowo room, kitchen and guest room. The upper room consisted of Sungkowo's burnt-out work-equipment room and my room.

About Sungkowo, there's not much I can tell you. He is a good man, unfortunately the death of his wife has driven him a little crazy. I doubt it, he's crazy or I'm crazy. To me, she always told me about her kindness that helped a child and adopted her. Of course, he told me such a story to make me thank him.

My name is Dharma, my body was rotting in the bathroom fifteen years ago in the bathroom downstairs. Of course, the death was planned by Sungkowo. My death, never even remembered by anyone, because I never had anyone.

Unwanted birth was the beginning of my life, both my parents dumped me into an orphanage. I've only lived three years in an orphanage I don't know her name. Next, Sungkowo and his wife adopted me out of pity. The real reason was because Sungkowo would never have offspring. Adopting me is just an excuse for his neighbors to think that the Sungkowo Family is a normal family.

Growing up, Sungkowo told me everything. From that moment on, I locked myself in this house.

Sungkowo's wife, talked too much that I got angry and pushed her back. His head hit the floor and died instantly. Not expecting Sungkowo to return home quickly, Sungkowo yelled to find out his wife was dead with a head covered in blood. “He talks a lot, I just pushed him” I said flat.

I ran upstairs, and then locked my door. Sungkowo broke down the door and scolded me for everything. I also defended myself. I don't remember until Sungkowo fell out of a second-floor window. I closed the window, letting Sungkowo's body fall on the street next to this house.

I was afraid, I wished I could go outside and run. But my legs feel tied, from the ventilation of my room suddenly blows smoke. It smelled rotten, a chicken egg that failed to hatch. I went out of the room and saw that the fire had burned down the kitchen, apparently Sungkowo's wife forgot to turn off the stove.

I'm freaking out, not long after half the house has burned down. I was suffocating because I couldn't breathe. The air was filled with smoke and gas.

With great difficulty, I tried to run to the bathroom downstairs. Arriving in the bathroom, I locked the bathroom door and waited for help to arrive. Unfortunately, to this day, no help has come.

Night after night I spent in my room. Without anyone, only occasionally saw children playing in the park and the couple. I've never seriously looked up those records, I think I agree with people's stories. The record was lost along with the fire that occurred.

My death only happened once. Yet every evening and night came, I felt like I had felt death over and over again. I miss a playmate I don't even have. This afternoon and next, I will only see the happy faces of the children playing in the park. And those kids, never realized I was always looking at them from behind the window.

END_

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