"One coffee, sir," I ordered, as usual, at Warung Krimo. Mang Krimo is a long-time vendor in Pucuk Lebah Village, at the edge of his village. His stall is indeed at the edge of the village, his house at the very end. Soon we'll be heading to the bulak, or plantation area, which is two kilometers long. After the bulak, there is Bulan Indah Village, where I live.

Night was beginning to fall; it was already 10:00 a.m. WIB. And I had just returned from my factory. I had to work overtime today because the cassava and palm oil factories where I work were having payroll distribution. I'm a foreman entrusted with several divisions, overseeing their performance and distributing their paychecks.

My fatigue was starting to fade, and I was still sweating profusely. I got on my motorcycle and felt like stopping by Mang Krimo as usual. That's usually me; the food at Mang Krimo is all delicious, and the prices are reasonable and affordable, in my opinion.

"Here you go, boss!" Mang Krimo arrived with a glass of strong black coffee and a small saucer underneath. This was great, so I immediately moved it and held it close to me.

The aroma of this real ground coffee was truly amazing. It made my fatigue disappear, even though I hadn't even had a sip yet, hehe. There's always something, you know, that's what being a laborer is all about. If it wasn't a joke, my whole body would feel exhausted. Joking, even to myself, at least eased the fatigue a little.

"Have you just finished your payday, Boss?" Mang Krimo startled me again, even though I was just about to take a sip of his coffee. It was annoying, and he called me boss. I'm still single and only a foreman for a few people, so I'm just a laborer. Gosh, Mang Krimo loves to flatter people.

"Mang Krimo! Don't call me boss, I think I'm just a boss. It's not appropriate, it's not appropriate. Just call me Mas, Mang."

I took a slow sip of my coffee. Take it slow, it'll definitely be enjoyable after all the exhaustion of watching the queues and distributing the workers' wages, and I'm a worker too, right? Ah! Never mind, just have some coffee, it'll be delicious.

"Well, Adnan is the boss, after all!"

"Oh my God, Mr. Krim! It's been so hard to even enjoy a cup of coffee, and then you start chatting. Wait a minute, Mr. Krim, let me have a sip!"

"Yeah... Yeah! Sorry, Adnan, it's already so late, and it's so quiet, it's even scarier. Let us chat, so it seems lively! Hehehe."

Damn, Mr. Krimo, that's true. He's used to selling until the early hours, and he's still afraid of scary things like that. Ghosts, at least, everyone still believes in such things. Indeed, my own village, Bulan Indah Village, is known for its haunted atmosphere. The culture of shamans, psychics, and people with spiritual powers is still rife. Even in our district, there are many shamans scattered around with lucrative incomes.

My name is Adnan Rahmat, but you can usually just call me Adnan. I'm an engineering graduate who works in a factory. Whether it works or not, it's definitely a way to make ends meet. I can choose my meals, no need to wait in line, and when I'm hungry, I just order.

Ah, that's just putting on airs, but I can still get through my days. As a bachelor living with my parents, I can still save my salary. Maybe I'll buy something new when I want a new outfit.

Why am I talking about shamans and all the horrors? Besides, I'm drinking and enjoying a cup of coffee. Coffee is perfect when enjoyed with all its flavor, and forgetting all your problems and thoughts. Calm your mind, refresh yourself, and enjoy the warm coffee. Hmm... it feels... it really is like sitting on a throne accompanied by four concubines. What the heck, thinking about concubines? Four more, just one for a wife, and I haven't found one yet. Huh… I put my coffee cup back on my small saucer. I exhaled slowly, phew! My slightly longer bangs of hair were flung upwards slightly by the gust of wind I blew.

Indeed, the fate of being a bachelor is unattainable.

But that's okay, it's not like I'm unattainable. I just haven't found the right one yet, I'm good at making excuses, aren't I? Ha.. ha.. ha..

My coffee was gone, just like my enjoyment of daydreaming was gone. So… it was time to go home, it was already 11:00 WIB. Wow, it was already late.

"Brother, how much did I eat? Could you please count it?" I showed him the several containers of crackers I'd eaten.

"Okay, Boss! What else did you eat besides the coffee?"

I glanced at the containers, "One black coffee, three fried tofu, three fritters, three fried bananas, three crackers, and three green chilies."

"Oh, my God! Why are there three of everything, Boss? Did you count everything out before you ate to make sure it was just right?"

What the heck, Mr. Krimo? I ate three of each, so there's no need for any supernatural powers like summoning a goblin.

"Just count it, Mang! Why are you calculating the amount? Are you a shaman?"

Mang Krimo giggled and started mumbling, as usual. When we were busy calculating on a calculator, he would mumble like a mantra. But in the end, his calculation was solid.

"Okay, 13,000, Boss!"

"Great, here's the money, Mang!" I took out a bill from my right pocket. It was twenty thousand rupiah. I handed it to him, and Mang Krimo gave me three bills, five thousand rupiah, and two thousand rupiah.

"Do those three small chilies count, Bro Mang?"

"Oh, Boss! Chilies don't count, that's free, Boss! Okay, then, put all the remaining chilies in a plastic bag so I can put them all in. It's free!"

"Oh, Boss! You're joking too much. How come Boss is so broke?"

Ha ha ha ha I laughed heartily. As usual, Mang Krimo and I often joked around. We were used to it. So no one was offended. I said goodbye to Mang Krimo.

"Mas Adnan," Mang Krimo's soft voice made me turn around before getting on my motorcycle. Now, he was used to calling me mas.

"Be careful passing through the bamboo thickets in the plantation on the village border."

I didn't respond to that, but suddenly the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. Why was Mr. Krimo reminding me of that? It was the thing I'd forgotten most when I'd been working late at night like this. Wasn't my intention to drink coffee to forget the horror in the bamboo grove on the border.

Damn! Why was Mr. Krimo reminding me right when I was about to say goodbye?

Okay, let's just get on with it. If anything happens, just speed up and rev it. Okay, great, Bismillaah. Let's go!

I started the motorcycle and revved the engine, accelerating and driving off. My automatic scooter cut through the night, slightly brightened by the moonlight starting to seep through every crevice. The moon was shimmering, but a thin mist enveloped every crevice. It was a foggy night.

The border of Pucuk Lebah Village was now visible. It wasn't a gate or an arched sign for the village name, but simply a marker on the left side of the road leading from Pucuk Lebah Village. Even that marker was just a half-meter-high cement patch. The creepy thing was, the marker looked like a grave marker. I don't know who made it; it wasn't very stylish. That's what made my night even more terrifying. How could it not be? It was already this late, and I came across a village marker that resembled a graveyard, painted white. I tried to act normally, reciting the Basmalah (in the name of Allah) and the verse of the Throne (Ayat al-Kursi). I was confident that I would pass without any problems, like on a toll road.

I passed the border, and now I was entering my village, Desa Bulan Indah. The further I got into the village, the more terrifying the journey became, as I had to pass over a long hill.

Quek! Quek! Quek!

The owls were singing, but at night it was quiet, and I was terrified. It would be beautiful during the day. L… It's nighttime! I got further into the village, and I had to go home. I shouldn't be afraid, after all, I'm a scholar, you know, I've acquired scientific knowledge and can be trusted. It would be embarrassing for a scholar to be afraid of invisible, unscientific demons.

Don't worry, it's just medicine to keep my goosebumps at bay. I arrived between the bamboo trees on my right and left. In the expansive bamboo grove, to the right of Mang Krimo's village, there was an old house. It belonged to Mbah Pati, who passed away 10 years ago.

I've visited and passed by that house before; it was old, and there were several wild trees growing around it. The house was known to be haunted, and no one dared to mess with it. Mbah Pati lived alone and was very kind to my family. However, after her death, rumors circulated that she often visited the living.

However, I still couldn't believe the story. Mbah Pati was a kind and devout person, and when I was little, I was taught by her to recite the Iqro Quran for several years.

If Mbah Pati's former house was truly haunted and frightening, why didn't the villagers just tear it down? And that would have been done through consultation, of course. But no one dared.

The dim night mist was pungent with moonlight. A strange smell suddenly struck, like something burning. The mist smelled, but in this place, far from people, in this village, why did it smell like burning?

The hairs on the back of my neck suddenly stood on end.

Ah! Never mind, just step on the gas. Mbak Pati's former house was about 40 meters from the entrance to our village. If we passed by, the shadow of the house would be visible. As I was directly in front of the house, I didn't dare turn my head toward the old house. I just stared straight ahead. The quieter it got, the more the mist seemed to loom ominously!

Bang!

I swerved, the handlebars difficult to control. I swerved uncontrollably, and I simultaneously pulled the right and left brakes.

"Another tire blowout? Why at a time like this?"

I got off, "Never mind, just drive quickly," I thought to myself. "There's no such thing as Satan. Why be afraid?" I tried to muster up courage. I took slow steps while guiding my motorcycle, and unconsciously, my eyes darted to the right and saw the old house that was said to be haunted. Story after story had made that exact spot where I was that night a terrifying place.

No one dared pass through that border late at night; people would pass there before Isha' (night) or even wait until morning. And I was right there, late at night. When my eyes suddenly landed, the night mist resembled white shadows flitting about.

It was just my imagination, and I slapped my right cheek with my right hand. What a coward! I seemed to be scolding myself, enduring the pain of my own slap. I just walked along, slowly and casually, as if nothing had happened. So, if a demon saw me, they'd say I couldn't be bothered because I wasn't a coward.

Demons only bother cowards, right?

But why did this night feel so eerie to me? Alone, there was no sound, only silence in the place my village feared most.

A cold breeze suddenly hit me, my body shivering slightly from the cold. And because of the wind, the hairs on the back of my neck suddenly stood on end!

Why did a tire on an automatic motorcycle even have a flat tire? I slowly guided it, passing bamboo thickets and the old house that people said was haunted. I couldn't believe it all. I kept walking.

"Ouch!"

The sound of a wolf! I trembled and accelerated, the heavy motorcycle barely audible. The foggy night became more visible, and my vision began to be shadowed by the moonlight. The misty night was illuminated by the moonlight. I continued to quicken my pace. However, as I looked to the left in the row of bushes, a flash of white shadow suddenly leaped quickly. The night fog seemed to sway in the dense mist.

"Pocongggg!"

I ran frantically, guiding the motorcycle, oblivious to the situation. It felt as if it were as light as a chicken. My hands clung to the handlebars as I ran, guiding the motorcycle. My breath was ragged, I was running so fast, and all I wanted was to reach the village entrance, shouting.

"Pocooonnng! The devil has nothing to do!"