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Speculative Fiction Fantasy

Ghost Story

A Pocong and a Pandemic

“Harjo, I think I will volunteer,” said Darmo.

“Tell me some more about it,” Harjo replied.

“Well,” said Darmo, “basically, we dress up as ghosts and go round the Island at night and scare the living daylights out of people who are breaking the curfew.”

“You cannot be serious” his friend retorted.

“I am deadly serious,” Darmo said.

“You mean people actually believe that ghosts exist?”

“Have you never heard of Pocongs?”

“My grandmother used to tell us about Pocongs, when I was young. But that was just folklore. Surely you don’t think that people still believe in ghosts?”

“Well” said Darmo, “there are still a lot of superstitious people in Java. Especially older people.”

Harjo was silent for a few minutes. Darmo said, “I used to be sceptical myself until one day a butterfly flew into the house which you know means that a the guest is going to come and lo and behold a guest did come to the front door an hour later.”

“That’s just a coincidence,” said Harjo.

‘I am not so sure’ said Darmo. When I was young my grandmother told me the tale about the two young woman who wore green dresses to the Java South beach and this is actually forbidden. They were dragged into the sea by Nyi Roro Kidul and they were never seen again.

The two men continued to discuss their opinions on superstitions and they agreed to differ.

A few days later, Darmo, clad in a white shroud and a white mask, headed out on his first patrol with another volunteer. The other volunteer was very quiet, and in fact he came to the rendezvous point wearing his shroud and mask, so Darmo had never seen his face.

Darmo’s Pocong partner didn’t say much in fact. He seemed very surly and withdrawn. When they went round the parks where there were a few kids loitering, blatantly breaking the curfew, they walked towards these young people, and they soon scattered.

His Pocong partner was actually quite spooky looking and the more time Darmo spent with him, the more uneasy he became. For example, when Darmo tried to strike up a conversation with him, he avoided his questions. As they were walking past the graveyard, where Darmo’s grandparents and great grandparents were buried, he stopped and looked solemnly towards one of the gravestones.  He walked into the graveyard, and for some strange reason Darmo followed him. Although there was something about him that made him feel uneasy and it was getting dark.

He moved closer to Darmo’s family plot and he seemed to go into some kind of a deep reflection. And then he spoke and his voice sounded quite haunting. “I am one of your ancestors,” he said, but because I became involved in an uprising in 1825 when Prince Diponegoro rebelled against the Dutch colonialists. Then I became a fugitive. I finished up being buried in a pauper’s grave and no one came to my funeral.

Darmo stared at his partner after this revelation and realised that he was speaking to a real Pocong, who was one of his ancestors. He looked at him and pitied him. Darmo was surprised at his revelation but in a way he was glad because he was beginning to spook him.  At least he knew what he was dealing with now. He said he had heard about the initiative about sending out Pocongs to frighten people who were breaking the lockdown, and he said he thought he check it out. He seemed to be very well informed for a trapped soul for then he told him he heard that Darmo was volunteering and he decided to go out on one of the patrols with him. He had overhead Darmo trying to convince his friend Harjo about the existence of the supernatural world and he had been impressed with him.

Darmo had studied the 1825-1830 Java war at school, but he did not remember all the details. He would have paid more attention, if he had known one of his ancestors had fought in the war. He wondered why his parents had never mentioned his rebellious ancestor and he wondered why they would not have been proud of him. These were questions he would ask them when he got home. But in the meantime, it was getting dark, so he told his partner whom he felt a solidarity towards now that he would go home soon. The Pocong seemed a little despondent. “I have to go back to my world as well” he said. And he added, “I am allowed to visit my family plot every year, to pay my respects.” And he said, “this year was a special year because when I realised that you were willing to embrace the role of dressing up as a Pocong, I felt I might be able to make a connection with my family again”. He went on to explain his soul would no longer be trapped when there was communication between the spirit world and the human world. He said because Darmo had accepted him and listened to him, he would be a step nearer to being released.

Darmo had so many questions for his Pocong ancestor. He wanted to know where this in-between world was and who actually was in charge of it. And who decided when his relative would be released. And when he was no longer trapped what sort of world would he enter. As he started walking out of the graveyard, he turned around to ask him, but he was surprised to see that he had vanished into thin air. Darmo wondered if he had imagined the whole episode because since the pandemic started and the rates of deaths and infections rose every day, he thought sometimes it was a bad dream from which he would awaken and that things would be normal again. A world where there was no pandemic and no Pocong who turned out to be a real trapped ghost, and not a pretender.

October 30, 2020 20:28

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