Long ago, during Maghrib prayer time, a group of children are playing hopscotch in the field of Neusu Jaya, Banda Aceh. Among one of them, Icut, said “Let’s go back home. My parents told me it’s bad to stay out late. Geunteut will take you.” Other children started to disperse, but Rafi stubbornly deny and shouted “That’s just a lame legend!!!”. Rafi continued to play, suddenly Icut turned back, only to see he isn’t there. Icut panicked and ran to her house to inform her parents immediately.
Rafi found himself in an abandoned treehouse with a terrible headache and caught a glimpse of a dark figure looming in the shadow, it was tall and had red eyes. He was scared for his life and started crying. Eyes closed, he walk backwards slowly and bump his back towards a small cabinet, “Thump!” something fell. It was an old diary. Photos scattered around the book, Rafi felt curious about it. The diary is filled with stories about a woman and her son. He skimmed through all the pages. Unexpectedly, at the last page, the paper was a mess. It was half torn and black ink was splattered everywhere. Rafi was surprised to read out a tragic story. The mother had lost her son during an accident at maghrib praying time. The woman was desperate to search for the culprit but got nothing in return, no one was there to help her. She became depressed and vengeful, and a wicked idea starts to formed in her mind, to capture all children during maghrib. She wanted every parents to feel her pain.
Rafi was so immersed into the story, that he did not realizedGeunteut had noticed him. Geunteut was furious and she harshly took her diary back to smashed it at his head. Rafi loses his balance and fell from the treehouse. Amidst the forest not far from Neusu Jaya’s field, his family and the villagers are screaming his name while waving torches. “Rafiiii.” echoed along the dark forest. Someone saw a kid laying on the grass, he had a minor bleeding on his head. “Rafi is here!” Informed a villager to the crowd. Rafi’s mother ran towards him and huged his son tightly. All of the sudden, Rafi felt his mother’s embrace. “Where were you?” she asked. “I don’t remember, Mom..”, he answered. Everyone looked up to see where he had fell from, and nothing was on top of the tree.
The Moral of the story is to never play outside of our house during Maghrib prayer time and to listen to your parents because they know what’s best.
Penulis:
Azalia
Universitas Syiah Kuala,
