Angels will always sing. Accompany the people picking pepper, said grandfather while sucking her cigarette deeply. Amir tried to imagine the angel shape.

Beautiful, sharp nose, thin-lipped wet which is always blossom, and bright eyes as blue as the sea. Wearing a long dress of pure white lace that fell to the ground. With a pair of white wings berpendaran sheen, flapping gently. As the picture book stories ever seen in the school library. In its shadow, the angel perched on the tip of the paddy, flying over on the fields, while humming softly and playing harps.

In the weeks since then, he always put your ear to wait for the song that sounds like the grandfather said, slipping in between the pepper leaves rustling, birds chirping, joking the women while picking pepper, and the sound of rippling water wavy when boat wooden carrier passed the river. Each came home from school, without changing clothes he had run to the fields, helping mother and the sister Siti try gathering seeds pepper already red, orange, and yellow into the cans and then poured into burlap sacks, before being taken immersed into the water in river edge, while take ears to open widely and hope the song will be audible.

But until the harvest ends and people start cutting back pepper trees, planting new seeds, the song was never heard again. Is the grandfather lying? Ahttp://www.triond.com/submits is also the story of the forest fairies who love to bathe at the pit or in the afternoon when the rain drizzle, kuntilanak-kuntilanak often standing in Aro tree behind the house, or a ghost Mawang that could masquerade as a man, resemble anyone who wished.

“My grandfather did not lie, Cu…

“Then why Amir never heard of it, Grandfa?”

“One day Amir will definitely hear it.”

“Did the angel’s voice is melodious, Grandfa?” he asked, not yet satisfied.

“Yes, tunable. Very Tunable.”

“Same as Mother voice?”

“Yes, like your mother voice”. Granfa sucking his cigarette again. Amir happy to hear Mother singing. A time ago before she married with my father, Mother was a singer in uncle Jurik’s single organ . His mother sang at festive celebration of the village people, even far up out of the village. As a songstress, Mother’s to be excellent. Not just because it sounds so sweet Mother, that is unmatched by other singers, but also because Mother clever dancing. Said pakwo. Hendi, wobble Mother always makes the audience clap loud and could not bear to be left out dancing. Every time a single organ Mang Jurik perform, people are always flocking from various villages. Old-young, male-female, large -small. That’s why after marriage with the father and she decided to stop singing, Mang Jurik very frantically back and forth to persuade Mother to come back on stage. Of course, with various offers of sweet. But Mother did not budge.

Amir become miss mother sound to singing. The song always accompanist his sleep in a beautiful dream about beautiful maidens and good heart, flower gardens sprawling with green valleys fresh and the rivers flowing clear water. But now that Amir has lost it’s melodious song. Amir does not know how long Mother never sing again and why Mother is no longer singing. And how much he wants to hear Mother singing. First it seems there is never a day passed without singing Mother. When bathing and washing under, when accompanied him to sleep, when knitting clothes, when mending thatch roof on the porch, when picking reeds

Since father go with his boat motor carrying logs to Jakarta via a large river which divides the village and never returned, Mother never sing again. Uncle Taufiq said, my father is a men who bring home the ship, where his father disappeared and was never found when the ship leaned on the Baru river to unload. He just brought father’s clothes to home. His mother could only weep for months, all peoples who told to find out his father always came home with a shake of the head, which makes Mother more and more immersed in the gloom of his face was always beaming before. For months, years, Mother was still waiting, hoping his father will one day suddenly appeared in the village, but it never happened. No one knows what really happened with the father. Since then, Amir has never heard his Mother humming again. One day, Amir asked Mother to sing, but she was yelled and abuse verbally with harsh words. For first once Mother scolded him in such a way.

“Angel is always moving like a light. So it is impossible for our eyes to see it.” Amir stunned to hear the words of Mr. Haji Faqih, parents who always taught her and the other village children the Al-Qur’an, learn to spell alif at brick mosque.

“But the grandfather said, we could hear the angels sing, when…. ” Amir immediately raised her hand to ask. Mr. Haji Faqih only a thin smile, he swab innocent face her little pupils. Children are always the most widely asked. And when it stops in the eyes of children, It is lit up waiting for her answer, she was like seeing something that is volatile. He could sense there was something else on the child. I do not know what.

“Only a prophet who ever heard an angelic voice, kid,” he said softly. “But a” Mr. Haji Faqih indirect went on, but re-trace the child’s face in front of him with a little hesitation, “Maybe your grandfather was right.”

Amir save the answers floating it fixedly in his mind. Took her to the bed. Sleep by no more pingping song again is caressed by the warm Mother. But in his sleep that night, he dreamed to hear again the voice of Mother sing. In his dream, sing while picking pepper Mother in the fields. Tunable all. How long has he never heard semerdu it. How he missed the song Mother. Suddenly, amid the singing voice is lilting Mother among the rustling leaves of pepper, he heard a voice like a bird’s wing flaps. Flaps, which led to strong winds. Wiggle the pepper leaves, make a skirt Mother unveiled. Followed by no less tuneful singing voice, very melodious singing voice chimed Mother. Surprised, she looked up. A beautiful angel with her hair loose like a light sheen was perched on top of one stem cherished pepper, singing and strumming harps. His face was emitting seven colors of the rainbow. Wearing a long dress of pure white lace dangling to the ground, like a soft white-winged snow-lit, as in its shadow over this. A pair of angel’s eyes are as blue as the ocean stare at him with such gentle grandfather.

In sleep, Amir smiled happily. So deep in the beautiful dream. So it is not the slightest sound heard snorting, moaning, and groaning suspended until dawn ahead of the next room, where the Mother’s body is being crushed male figure required by the Mother’s father summoned.

This is not the first time she saw him slap Mother. As always, followed by gross insults and slamming stuff. Amir’s eyes widened behind the bedroom door when she saw how the old man grabbed okulele daddy hanging on the wall of the living room and slammed to the floor. She wanted to scream, but no sound came out. Okulele shiny father who used to be picked in the afternoon to accompany Mother to sing it shattered. His mother wailed loudly. Amir involuntarily gripped the door firmly, eyes and chest felt hot. While Siti,  sobbing on the bed. Curled pale.

“Pigs Taufiq you! Dog!” Mother sobbed broken okulele embrace it. The man grinned and chuckled.

“Anyway, tomorrow if….  Akhiong come, the fields that must be sold!” He said, glaring at large and then lit a cigarette.

“Once I said no, it does not, ungrateful man!” Mother glared back no less fierce.

“Women bagak, The land contains a lot of lead, you know! The price is high! After all why would you defend the field again? Still want pepper planted?” The man smiled cynically. “Do you think the price pepper is going down, up? Ka, you dont see, anywhere poeple planted pepper always lost! which fertilizers have been costly.

“If I still do not want to sell, what are you doing?” Mother-pitched voice.

“Still will sell.”

“Bastards! What right have you sold? That farm heritage Muis, brother!” Mother screamed.

“Hey, that so now it’s your husband I am! I am!” he shouted, banging on his own chest.

“Then now I want a divorce! Loss I want to marry you! I’m talaq three!” Mother to be crazy.

Amir gripped the door grew louder. Sweat soaking rains are still wearing school uniform. It can not be imagined that the fields will be sold. It occurred to him that beautiful angelic singing and strumming harps on pepper cherish it. Still audible him singing the melodious sound of voices singing Mother,  chirping Punai birds, rustling the leaves of pepper in the breeze, and smell so sweet pepper. His hands were clenched. Trembled. Slowly he opened the bedroom door. He glanced at the board sheathed machete hanging on the wall. The machete usually brought Mother to the fields. He is knees felt wobbly. He was again snapped Mother. His hands become cold. Quick as a flash he grabbed the machete, pulling it from the holster. The man was shocked. His mother gasped. Creeesssà.!! He was screaming wail. His voice broke kelenggangan evening. Machete eyes turned red.

Rain drizzle became rain. Still he heard voices behind the crowded shouted tense, also sounds a screaming Mother fears and sobbed. By panting breath, he paddling hardly dinghy had made his father. Away from the outskirts of the village. Village on the banks of great rivers, the people prefer to call it Kute, and said to be the first city on the Bangka island. A small village which is always busy stop off timber ships and oil palm plantations from Sumatra mainland and the Java island.

Suddenly he heard the faint voice singing it. The harder the further along with the canoe which he was paddle, moving dividing  ripples river. So beautiful, so he was stunned. The song kind of like the sound of trumpet, but others. It reads blaring loud, echoing the darkening evening sky. Purplish yellow. The sound of musical instruments is it? Amir never heard of it. But immediately he was reminded of a story ever told grandfathers, and was amazed. Is it the sound of the trumpet blast? He remembered my grandfather once said, the angel Israfil will blow the trumpet on Judgement Day.