Nik Masyitah Rukyah binti Nik Razali is a telepath living peacefully in Negeri Sembilan, Malaysia. She was born with the ability to read minds, move objects via telekinesis and even revert the physical state of objects with enough concentration.
How...
I clutch fistfuls of sand and let them pass through my fingers like an hourglass. Kiah sits further up the beach; cross-legged, soundless and meditating. I could almost feel her tranquil aura reaching me. How she can remain so calm before such a big decision in our lives, I'll never know.
The Sun teeters on the horizon far off in the distance. Rays of orange, purple and red are cast over the flowing waters. They make gentle crashing noises as they collide with the rocks and fold over themselves. A flock of birds flies by, chirping as they pass the two sole occupants of the beach.
It's so... peaceful. I'll miss you, Pantai Cahaya Bulan.
I make my way towards Kiah, leaving small footprints behind me as I amble. She stirs as I reach her side and sit down. As always, she leans her back on my shoulder and I extend an arm to support myself.
"How are you feeling, Harmony?"
I gaze at the Sun. It's almost setting now.
"I always thought I'd be happy to leave this damn place, but I'm not so sure now."
Kiah smiles at me. No amount of conjured fire from my hands can make me feel this warm.
"It's never easy leaving your home. It's a new chapter, hm? We have to keep turning the page, even if we don't know what's coming."
I smile back. She takes a last glance at the scenery and stands up, but not before I tug at her hand.
"Oh, you want something, Harmony?"
"Yeah. Before we leave, how about..." I hold her hand tight,
"...a last bonfire?"
>>
"We still have no idea on whatever happened to you at Zakwan's place."
I rub my hand on my inai. The new design—the spiral flower is indeed queer. It doesn't even look like it was drawn on with a henna cone. Visually, it's like it was stenciled on, or printed akin to words on a newspaper. No faults, no crevices, no crookedness.
Real information and knowledge relating to the supernatural and sorcerers are sparse in Malaysia, given their view towards things of that sort. There were some old magazines called Mastika that published stories pertaining to ghosts, spirits and other spooky entities, but most of it was rubbish. They were always focused on entertainment more than truthfulness. If you were to read them for actual research, it would remind me of a certain Malay saying.
Melepaskan batok di tangga. Doing something that serves zero purpose.
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"Maybe it's a problem with yourself, Kiah?"
"Hah? What do you mean by that?"
Casey stretches on our shared bed. Harmony's hogging up the entirety of the other one, sprawling her limbs out to their maximum capacity and snoring. The cold from the air conditioner makes me tuck myself in deeper into my blanket. Well, our blanket. This is weird.
