The sun had begun to sink in the west, painting the sky with golden-orange streaks that gradually faded into gray. The chilly evening wind slipped through the thin jacket Naeswari was wearing.
Naeswari opened the car door, her eyes fixed on the large house standing before her. For a moment, she held her breath, feeling as though the house were staring back at her.
The house looked large and dark, with tall windows covered by faded curtains. The wind blew gently, making the dry leaves scrape against the ground.
“Wow... Grandpa’s house is so cool,” Nalesha exclaimed. He had looked excited ever since they arrived, even though he had kept refusing to move.
“The building is still in good shape and solid,” Sagara added admiringly.
“That’s because there are people taking care of the house,” Yas said, pointing to two middle-aged people approaching him.
“Welcome back, Yas. We’re glad this house is finally going to be lived in again,” said a man wearing a faded batik shirt and long trousers.
“Auntie’s missed you, Le. Ever since Mr. Hanafi passed away, you haven’t come here anymore,” said a woman in a kebaya, her hair pulled into a bun.
“Yes, Mr. Hasan... Aunt Rum. We’ll be living in this house now. Let me introduce my wife and our three children: Sagara, Nalesha, and Naeswari.”
After the introductions, Naeswari left them to their conversation.
Naeswari walked slowly across the grounds of her new house. The house was large and old, and every window seemed to peer down at her like the eyes of something unseen. A gentle breeze stirred the dry leaves around her, producing a faint rustling sound. She walked slowly, her feet brushing through the damp grass, which bristled slightly beneath the last rays of sunlight sinking behind the large trees at the far end of the yard.
Naeswari stopped for a moment, her eyes glancing toward the house’s windows, which looked pitch-black from outside. There was no light inside.
“This house feels alive, and it’s calling to me. Every corner seems to be watching, but there’s no one here,” she thought, biting her lower lip.
“Naes, come inside!” her father, Yas, called.
Without answering, Naes left the backyard. She pulled her jacket tightly around herself, as though the air had suddenly grown colder than usual. Her shoulders rose slightly, and both hands slipped into her jacket pockets. Her eyes remained fixed on the second-floor window, which had suddenly made her feel something.
“Hey... Naes. Come inside. It turns out we’ll only be using some of our things here. Look, everything’s already available in Grandpa’s house,” Nalesha said, taking Naes by the hand so she would follow him.
Mr. Hasan turned on the house’s main lights, revealing the large living room. The walls were still in good condition, decorated with old photographs and antique furniture. The room felt cold and empty even with the lights on.
Naeswari walked slowly into her new house. Her eyes settled on a large painting on the living-room wall—a portrait of an old man with a cold stare. The face looked very much like her father’s, yet different... darker, more frightening.
“Is that a picture of Grandpa Hanafi?” Naes asked, pointing toward the wall.
“No, Naes. That’s your great-grandfather. Grandpa Suma,” Yas replied, gazing at the portrait of the grandfather who had suddenly left the house without saying a word. To this day, no one knew where the man was.
“Just like his name, Dad. Suma means handsome and powerful,” Sagara added, looking at the portrait without any fear.
As Naeswari started to step backward, a soft creaking sound suddenly came from upstairs, as if someone were walking there. She jumped and turned toward the staircase, but there was no one there.
“Saga...” she called to her older brother beside her.
But Sagara didn’t hear her. He was busy taking pictures of their grandfather’s portrait. Naeswari saw how happy every member of her family looked right now, and she didn’t want to ruin it with something they wouldn’t believe.
“Were you calling me, little sis?” Saga asked, looking at Naes.
“Naes is going upstairs for a bit,” Naes replied, changing the subject.
Sagara merely nodded and continued his tour of the house. Naeswari climbed to the second floor. The staircase still looked sturdy and strong. It made no creaking sounds, but suddenly, from behind her, came a soft, hoarse whisper.
“Welcome to Urip Rukun Village.”
Naeswari spun around, but there was no one behind her. The voice seemed to have come from the wall. Her heart pounded, and this time she was certain there was something in this house that wanted them there.