The Ghost Story of a Little Child Without Eyeballs in the Backyard

Illustration

The Ghost Story of a Little Child Without Eyeballs in the Backyard
Around the middle of April, exactly two weeks before the month of Ramadan, I experienced this terrible story.
The beginning of this story departed from my doubts about returning to my hometown. Because at that time, the city where I was studying was classified as a Covid-19 red zone city.
So almost every day, my mother is always worried about my condition. Starting from asking about health to eating schedules.
Not infrequently my mother also told me to just go home instead of spending time there. But I refuse to comply with his request. Because if I go home, I won’t be able to sleep as much as I want and smoke like I’m in a rented house. Hehehe.
I’m always looking for an alibi in this case. Whether it’s saying “There are many tasks that must be completed with a rented friend,” or “I’m afraid that when I go home, the signal in the village will be different from the signal when I was in Malang city.”
After all, the remittance is still there. It’s okay to eat once a day, the important thing is to be able to sip coffee and smoke. I thought then.
Unfortunately my reasoning became stale, when one day my mother called me saying that she couldn’t send any more money.
Yes, like it or not, I finally chose to go home. The time is yes, still holding on to choosing to live freely. You might die of starvation.
After choosing to return to the village. My only question is, can I temporarily reduce my smoking rite? Especially if you can take a vacation, it’s even better.
Actually, my parents already know that I smoke, but it’s just a bad feeling when it looks like I’m smoking in front of them. Because my own father had long retired as a smoker.
In short, I can only take three days off smoking. The fourth day at home, the cells in my body seemed to be holding a massive demonstration, demanding that I continue my smoke-free policy. 
As the owner of the legal limbs, I feel confused. If I smoke, I have to look for coffe shop first, but seeing the situation at that time — the lockdown, surely all shkp are closed. But if I don’t smoke, my body’s cells will eventually swell and go on strike.
I also racked my brain to find a solution so that I can still smoke around the house. Finally, after doing meditation and dialectic, I found a solution so that I can still smoke.
Yes, there is only one solution; smoking in the back room at 11 o’clock at night. The hour at which my family is fast asleep.
In fact, I myself am a cunning and cowardly person. Moreover, the back room of my house has a bleak history. When it was still a vacant lot that my mother used to dry clothes in, the back room was once overgrown with a mango tree that was quite large in size.
It is said that the land seller said that the tree cannot be removed, because there are “guardians” who do not want to be moved.
However, when I was in 6th grade, my father wanted the vacant land to be renovated into a place to put unused furniture.
Because he also don’t want to change the original function, a quarter of the room is designed not to have an asbestos roof, so that it can still be used for drying clothes. 
The risk is that when it rains, the water will automatically wet some of the room. But it’s not too much of a problem, really.
Because father also made a hole in the corner of the room, so that when it rains the water doesn’t flood the room.
Initially, there was fear and thought about past myths. Because I really want to smoke. I also ventured to smoke in the back room every 11 pm. 
I always think positive and entertain myself; that ghosts don’t really exist. There are only my negative thoughts, so the thoughts themselves form and present the ghost figures that we often watch in horror films .
After a few days of smoking there, I started to feel comfortable. Worries about strange things began to lessen.
The back room seemed to be the most comfortable place I’ve ever met; reading a book while brewing coffee and smoking a few cigarettes. Comfort continues for a week or more. Even though it’s quiet, it’s delicious.
Two days before entering the month of Ramadan, it rained quite heavily since the afternoon. Luckily, around 10 pm the rain gradually subsided. 
The coffee ritual in the back room continues. But I had to clean some of the tiles that were wet from the rain. Once the tiles are clean, the coffee ritual begins; lit cigarettes, brewed coffee and read books.
In the middle of reading a book, suddenly there was a loud sound that hit the asbestos roof of the back room. I was suddenly surprised. My heart was beating fast. I looked all over the room. I sharpen my hearing. But nothing.
I want to go into the room, but I just lit the second cigarette. I just finished the cigarette once, after that I went into the room.
At that time, I was starting to feel very uncomfortable. The aura I feel is different from before. My mind started to create strange things. 
My eyes feel sensitive when there are mice or lizards milling about. Even reading books is out of focus. Until finally my neck was suddenly very cold, the taste that I had never felt before.
My right hand which was carrying the book was shaking violently. My gaze was slowly cast right in the corner of the room.
“O Allah…Astaghfirullah!” I said surprised. A small child was seen squatting in the corner of the room. Exactly in front of my right. It’s not far from where I’m sitting. In his eye sockets, it looks empty without eyeballs. His hair is straight and long.
I only dared to stare at him for a split second. I tried to move away with a prone motion. But it feels very heavy. I was so scared, I accidentally kicked the cup containing the coffee and broke it.
I can only say, “O God…Astaghfirullah,” that can be said in my heart. So heavy.
After a few minutes I saw the figure of the little child, it was no longer visible. Then I sat down and took a deep breath. Head still feels dizzy. Cold sweat kept pouring down my chest and back.
Even though it only looks like a fraction of a second, it feels like I’m going to die. Mind me at that time.
Not until my body returns to its normal state. Suddenly a hand grabbed my shoulder. Instantly my body felt weak and I couldn’t control it anymore. I fainted that night without knowing the person behind the hand.
Read the other story at my other blog: Scary Stories Tell in Dark

That’s the story of meeting the ghost of a little child without eyeballs. Be careful if you are in the backyard at night. Who knows….