Dongeng

He hesitates at the edge of the realm. Before him, the rainforest stands tall and mighty, enveloped in soft, cooling mists. There is the whisper of the wind in the leaves, the rumble of a waterfall in the distance, the rustling of creatures in the undergrowth, the caw of birds winging their way through the air. Overlaying it now is his deep sigh as he looks up into the sky with tears in his eyes.

Go, before he finds you, Sang Kancil whispers.

Thank you, my friend. And goodbye. He turns his back on the realm—on his childhood, on his family, on his friends, on the very core of his being—and steps into the world of man where his wife and newborn son await him. He hopes he has not been gone for too long. There is a sense of loss as the portal seals behind him with finality.

Behind him is a shriek he does not hear, a cry of rage raised because he is now unreachable, untouchable: Pengkhianat! Traitor! It reverberates in damp, dark caverns, burrows deep in rich fertile soil, screams in wide open skies. Inhabitants, both magical and non-magical, stop to listen, then go back to their busy lives.

Nothing is the same again on both sides of the door.

Chapter 1

Sara opened her eyes slowly. She could smell the forest, which confused her. Hadn’t she been on her way home? In the middle of the concrete jungle of Kuala Lumpur, hours away from anything green? Yet besides the smell of fresh greenery and moisture, she could also hear something like… running water? A tap? A river? She shivered. Above her was a canopy of leaves. She sat up abruptly with a gasp, eyes wild as she looked around her. What was she doing in a forest?

"Dia sudah bangun!" someone said in Malay. Her brain scrambled to translate: She’s awake.

She turned, holding the tattered green blanket nearer to her body. The back of her mind was churning. Why is there a blanket? How long have I been here? How long have I been out? How did I get here? Her eyes fixed on a slender girl dressed in a dark green kebaya who smiled and raised a tentative hand to wave.

"What—who—siapa you?" Sara fumbled, her brain struggling to figure out what to say.

The girl giggled. "Tunggu." She turned and seemed to disappear into the forest.

Sara did as instructed. She waited. What else was there to do? She wrapped the blanket around her, staving off the cold. Why is it so cold? She surveyed her surroundings. She was in a small clearing surrounded by thick, towering trees. She’d been lying on something like a dais covered in grass and moss. At its base, five smooth stones lay scattered, as if someone had dropped them. If they weren’t as big as her palm, she’d think that someone had been playing Batu Seremban. A quick check showed that her handbag had landed up with her and—surprise—was intact with nothing missing. Getting a new identity card would have been a hassle, to say the least, besides having to cancel her supplementary credit card. Not that she’d ever used the thing. She picked up a stone, hefting it in her hand.

Soon enough, the girl returned with five others. Sara’s hand curled around the stone, stepping back as she wondered if she would have to use it as a weapon. The two eldest, a male and a female, stepped forward and bowed. Sara imitated their gesture, wondering what was going on.

"Selamat datang, Penglipur Lara. Beta mengalu-alukan kehadiran anda di alam kami," the man said with a flourish of his hand. He was of moderate height, with light brown skin and a wide smile. His hair was thick, a uniform peppery grey. Seventy-ish, nearing eighty, Sara guessed, mentally comparing him to the last time she’d seen her late grandfather. Sara thought that he would have been very handsome when he was younger. As it was, the wrinkles and lines on his face added stature and majesty to his sharp features.

Greetings, Storyteller. We are honoured to have you here in our realm, the woman beside him translated, copying his gesture. She too had fine features, looking rather like the grand M in the James Bond movies, the one that died—Sara couldn’t remember the actress’s real name—but with thinner, sharper lines. The pair looked at each other and smiled.

"Uh, thank—terima kasih?" Sara squeaked. For once in her life, she wished that she’d kept her Malay in practice. It wasn’t as if she didn’t understand it or couldn’t speak it; just that very often the words wouldn’t come to her as fluently as she wished.

We understand, my dear. We will speak English with you. After all, what we need from you is from that language, the woman said, laying a hand on her shoulder.

What—

Come. Let us show you around and then we will tell you what we need.

O-kay…? What else could she say? Her hand tightened around the strap of her handbag, and she reflexively put the stone into the bag as she followed them.

~

Sara wasn’t sure if she should start asking questions, but as they hiked farther into the forest and higher up through steep paths, she didn’t have the breath to. All her energy was used up in trying to breathe while struggling to keep up with the silent people who seemed to ghost along the winding trek. It had been a long time since she had taken such a strenuous hike. She tried to remember when that had been and concluded: never. Still, she pushed on. The older pair and the young girl led the way, the other three flanking her sides and back, as if to make sure that she didn’t escape. Sara looked around to see if she could escape. She was sure she couldn’t run fast enough. Finally, they came to a stop.

First of all, I suppose we should introduce ourselves. We are the Hidden People. My husband here is the Raja… king, as you call it, and I am his Permaisuri. I suppose that makes me a queen? She laughed, a sound so calm and controlled, Sara wondered if it were real.

The Hidden People?

The Permaisuri dipped her head slightly. Yes. That’s what we call ourselves.

Sara ran through her extensive knowledge of mythology, murmuring to herself. Hobbits? No. Fairies? No, not quite. Elves? Elves did quite seem to fit. She cast a critical eye on them. They were very beautiful people, though they didn’t have pointy ears—who even thought up pointy ears anyway—and looked quite… Pan-Asian. Nothing was making sense. Am I hallucinating? Am I in a coma? Maybe this is all just a very strange dream. She pinched herself. Nothing happened. How did it work anyway? A pinch in a dream was still a dream-pinch. She couldn’t see how that might affect the real world.

There was a short conference between the pair.

Your people call us the Orang Bunian.

Sara’s lips formed a silent O. Her interest had always been in Western Mythology, not in Eastern ones. However, no one had ever perfected living in a bubble, so she had heard of the Orang Bunian, however tangentially, though she didn’t really know much about them except that they sometimes stole children. That made her pause. Why did you kidnap me? I’m not a child.

We know you are not. But you are the exact type of person who can help us.

Help you? Help you do what?

The Raja smiled. It wasn’t a pleasant one; Sara thought there was something slightly predatory about it. Look around you, Penglipur Lara.

Sara followed the sweep of his hands, taking in the view. They were on top of a hill. In the far distance, she could see dark clouds gathering. The wind blew nice and cool—almost foreign—and Sara shivered a little, hoping that it wouldn’t rain. Down in the valley she could make out something like a town, a little on the small side, but the details were blurred. The rest of the view consisted of the rainforest and swamp. The wind shifted and a thick, muggy smell blew into her face. That felt a little more like home. She rubbed her tired eyes.

I can’t quite make out anything down there, she said, squinting to try to find a good view.

The Permaisuri’s smile looked rather sad. Exactly. Then they were moving again, away from the edge of the cliff, and Sara followed suit as they took a seat on the ground in a circle.

The Permaisuri looked once again at her husband and cleared her throat. Once, a long time ago, we were a strong realm. The people of the Malay Peninsula knew and respected us. We did not meet often, but when we did, they were significant events. But things have changed. We’ve been forgotten and we have faded into the past—faded so far that we ourselves cannot remember everything that we were meant to be. Which is why we need you, Penglipur Lara. We have heard your stories, we have seen the way your words, silent and hidden as they are, have recreated the people you pass by every day. And we, the Hidden People, need you, the Storyteller, to revive our stories again.

The six Bunians looked at her expectantly. Sara’s gaze shifted from one face to another, confusion clouding her thoughts.

What? No.

You can try…

Sara shook her head. No. This is crazy. I’m dreaming. This is not real.

The Raja and Permaisuri rose to their feet silently. His face was hard, almost angry, hers unreadable.

It is real. Believe me. The Permaisuri’s lips closed in a thin, sharp line.

Sara shook her head again. What?

The pair took a step back. The young girl clambered to her feet and ran to them, taking the Permaisuri’s hand. Then they took another step back and faded from sight.

What—wait, you can’t leave me here! Sara turned to look at the remaining three Bunians.

Their faces were stony with disappointment. Sara couldn’t help thinking that it was very beautiful disappointment all the same. They too exchanged glances and nodded to themselves.

What does that mean? Sara got to her feet, hurrying after them, scrambling for words. "Tunggu!"

Down the path they went, gliding gracefully and silently, with Sara panting behind them, crashing through the brush. Fear gripped her again. What would happen to her if she was left in this forest? Would the animals eat her? Then again in all the time she’d been here she hadn’t even heard the call of a bird. Was this Malaysia? Or was she stranded somewhere else altogether? Belatedly, she remembered the royal couple’s welcoming speech. Realm, she’d said, but he’d said the word Alam, something she would have translated into World instead. Had she really stepped into another world?

She soon forgot the thought as the three Bunians came to a stop in front of her and held out their hands.

Where are we? she asked.

They pointed down a dark path.

She stepped nearer, trying to see. There? Why won’t you speak to me?

Still, they gestured. She took small steps towards it, looking back at them frequently. At the edge of the shadows, she bent forward to peer into the darkness.

I can’t see—

They pushed her forward, the end of her sentence converting into a shriek. She fell for a long time, screaming all the way.

Chapter 2

This time, Sara didn’t open her eyes. Instead, she laid back and breathed in. No more forest smells. She tried to listen instead, wondering why her head felt so fuzzy. Fuzzy and heavy. Where had she been? She tried to remember. She’d gone for a movie with Xiu. They had dinner. She’d taken the train home. She didn’t remember walking back to the apartment, though. Yet, she was lying on something soft, something comfortable that smelt like home. She turned on her side and nuzzled deeper into the pillows and thick comforter. She was at home in bed. How did she get here? She didn’t remember walking home. She could feel the sun streaming in, warming her face, the back of her eyelids.

Shoot.

She sat up abruptly. I am so late for work. Helmi will definitely fire me this time. Her phone alarm was set to ring every morning at six, so she couldn’t understand why it hadn’t woken her. She reached for her handphone, which was peeking out of her open handbag. It was dead. Sara groaned as she rubbed her face with the palms of her hands. What had she taken last night? It was impossible to be hungover on root beer, right? It wasn’t even real beer! Just a lot of carbonated water. Too much sugar. She plugged in her handphone to charge and went to the kitchen to grab a cup of water. The microwave display blinked 11:37. Too late to rush. Another half an hour wouldn’t make any difference. Not now.

A leisurely bath later, she turned her phone on to find 87 missed calls and 382 messages between SMS, WhatsApp, Facebook Messenger and Line. Why did she have so many messaging apps anyway? She stared at it in confusion. Opening Helmi’s WhatsApp conversation, she scrolled through angry messages to concerned messages until they said ‘Today’. Right after ‘Thurs, 8 Sept.’

What?

She exited the program and looked at the calendar on her phone. Nothing made sense. She dug into her jeans pocket and looked for the movie ticket stub. 4 September, Sunday. That looked about right. She looked at her phone calendar again. It stubbornly said that it was 9 September. Friday. She was still staring