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The Present
Bloodbath Detective Graves utters as he surveys the scene that was the Sayang hotel. He cringes as his nose catches the pungent, rancid smell of death. With many years in the field, Graves is no stranger to mortality. He thoroughly remembered the terrorist attacks of 03, however, this is different. His home country of Australia already ranked Bali at a danger level four on a one to five scale. But still, this was beyond his mind s capacity to understand. Upon arriving most of the police force stood rapt for minutes before even beginning to proceed.
From staff to residents, the entirety of the Sayang lay dead scattered across the surroundings in no discernable manner. The word Raya Sayang is written hundreds of times from corner to corner of the hotel: in blood, scratched with fingernails and burned into the grass. Body parts hang from trees looking as if they d been pulled from the body with bare hands. The hotel itself smolders from being burnt to the ground. Local police dart in and out of the crime scene. Some try to keep out the horde of reporters that snap away trying to get the money shot. It is of no use. Every snap of the horrific panorama was that shot. What in god s name happened here? The Australian s thinly veiled accent fades away unanswered when suddenly, Chaos, my good sir. Graves peers towards the distinctly European voice. An eccentric appearing man stands before him. Wearing a bright red sarong and a contrasting blue peci over his black hair, the gentleman seems to be unable to stand still. Stay behind the barrier sir. Graves insists. The man smiles flamboyantly and theatrically flashes a card that reads: Matthias Xiamos, Spiritual Consultant/Master Psychic. Master psychic, huh stay behind the barrier please! Graves pushes the stranger behind the blockade. His first thoughts are that the foreigner is a swindler hustling tourist with local lore.
The natives seem to think this is the work of the Ogoh-Ogoh, you know? Xiamos declares. That s great. Graves states angrily. The statement further reinforces Graves thoughts of the man. Yet despite Graves disposition, he lingers near the spiritualist. Though he had surveyed the gruesome display for most of the day, he was at a lost for motive. Moreover, the stranger s eerily odd whimsy was a welcomed departure from the gory spectacle. What s coming is much worse than the Ogoh-Ogoh Xiamos says. Graves interest is slightly peeked by the comment. A concerned look comes across his face. Okay hit me, mate. What s coming? Xiamos smiles and begins to tell his tale
Her name was Rasa Sayang He begins, but is immediately stopped by an inquisitive Graves. Who is her and why was she named after a song? Xiamos seems bothered by the interruption, Merely coincidence, now please let me finish! Graves crosses his arms grumpily, Sorry finish. Xiamos continues, Her name was Rasa Sayang: The Harbinger of Chaos. But once again before he can conclude Chaos!? Graves interrupts again. Matthias glares in great disapproval. Sorry finish. Graves repeats in a huff. The two begin to walk away from the crime scene as Xiamos continues.
As a representative of Chaos, Rasa Sayang would cross the threshold into the corporeal realm. She would act as harbinger of those entities that would seek destruction to all things. Graves looked confused. Paying no heed, Xiamos continued. She was the ultimate herald of the end times. Whether from boredom or an odd fascination for the unexplained, Graves began to take a slight interest in the conversation. Okay really, what s with the name? Rasa Sayang Raya Sayang? She s some sort of Indonesian goddess, right? he queries. NO! Xiamos shouts irately. Never something so inconsequential: she is primordial. Xiamos says. His earlier cheery disposition clearly faded. She is the personification of the wrath of the universe. Her disarray is always in direct conflict with the natural order. In the beginning of every new rotation of existence, she is born anew. From a child she grows into maturity, until she is able to oversee the apocalypse once more. Graves sighs in disbelief. So the Ooga Booga is back and she s ripping apart tourist for fun? he says. SHE IS NOT THE OGOH-OGOH! SHE IS ALLPOWERFUL!! SHE IS VENGEANCE Xiamos roars furiously and then continues in a sinister whisper. and she is now Raya Sayang: Bringer of Chaos.
Finally Graves hospitality has come to an end. Grabbing Xiamos by the collar, he lifts him nearly off the ground. Okay look mate, if you know anything about this this incident, speak now or get the hell out of here! Xiamos smiles wickedly. Her job was not finished as Rasa Sayang. She was engulfed by the Void. He says. The void? Graves questions. In the beginning, there was nothing the void. Graves shrugs; his patience wearing thin. Still clutching Xiamos by the collar, he asserts, Look, I don t want the bible. I want the answers Xiamos grimaces and interrupts abruptly. She has returned weakened, but vengeful. Order has reigned too long and reciprocity must be had by any means necessary. Graves sighs again, having heard enough of Xiamos lunacy. Lowering Xiamos back to his heels, he mutters under his breath. Master psychic huh...more like psycho.
Xiamos does not reply, instead he hunches over and begins to chuckle bizarrely. That s Master Psychic Psycho to you. He whispers sinisterly. Graves leans in closer, What did you say? Swiftly Xiamos lunges forward and grabs Graves forehead. Graves is suddenly flooded with an onslaught of mental visions. Frozen in place, he begins to drool as his mind tries to comprehend the dizzying images. Mental pictures of death, cities burning and utter bedlam completely dwarf the crime scene before him. In the midst of it all, an unclear apparition of a young girl glares ominously. Surrounding her are a mob of men and women of all shapes and sizes each chanting the words, Raya Sayang. Louder and louder the chant continues as the images become more vivid and destructive until suddenly black.
Graves collapses onto Xiamos. Quickly, he hoists Graves arm around his shoulder as to not draw attention. Having walked far enough away from the crime scene with Graves, the two go unnoticed. Carrying the body as if the two were old friends walking and talking together, he whispers in Graves indifferent ear, Ah, what a scene. You see, this whole affair had to be. Order is a façade that must be squelched. It was pointless of you to try to make sense of the senseless. With that being said, I m sorry to tell you that I lied. My real name is Marshell Percy. The man that was Xiamos pulls off his cap with black wig attached and reveals his blond hair. Honestly Graves, I ve always wanted to play a detective. Marshell shoves Graves into the back seat of a car and makes a daring escape. His laughter barely heard over the chaos behind them.
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The Past
Ron and Dawn Parker were your average retiree couple; three kids, six grandkids, a nice pension and retirement fund. Ron, a former military general had been around the globe and back. He was a mild mannered and orderly man: disciplined, controlled, yet a loving husband. He had promised his wife that they would travel the world together one day and always remembered Bali as one of his favorite locale for excursion. She didn t ask for much, but he was never intent unless providing her with the best. Funny thing about good intentions they make great pavement on the road to hell.
Bali, Indonesia: A tropical paradise of sandy white beaches, luxuriant jungle expanse and mountain scenery. It was a day to remember at the newly renovated Sayang hotel: the kind of day that breeds nostalgia: a day that a visiting family would remember forever. A cool sea breeze whisked throughout the bustling crowd congregating for that evenings festivities. The aroma of fine Indonesian cuisine followed in hot pursuit. The chattering buzz was soon halted however by a boisterous drumming. The Sayang had always been known for its dazzling cultural performances; today was no different. As the night progressed, the multitude; a mixture of employees, businessmen, tourist and the like, all began to congregate in front of a small platform built for the evening s entertainment.
As the percussions rumbled, several young Indonesian girls adorned in bright gold and azure wardrobe processed from behind the Sayang. Smiling, they aligned themselves in a row as a well dressed announcer approached a podium nearby. The hum of the crowd died down as the young man cleared his throat and spoke to the crowd. As he spoke, the low drum coupled with his monotone chatter seemed to mesmerize the spectators. Everyone seemed to sway calmly to the hum. The sound slowly lulled Ron into a near trancelike state. RayaSayang. , he suddenly whispered. Dawn glanced at him puzzlingly. What? Dawn questioned. She noticed him drifting in and out of sleep. Dawn stared completely confused. It was not like Ron to snooze in midday. RayaSayang. He repeated. With a gentle nudge, Dawn roused him to consciousness. Wha?!...sorry, I don t know what came over me. He stated. Minutes later, the young girls are introduced to the audience. Ah I believe our performers are ready. The announcer proclaimed proudly. Now, they will bring you a traditional song of love and joy. It is the trademark song of our superior resort hotel, the Sayang. Without any further hesitation, it is our honor to introduce to you the Rasa Sayang.
Applause flooded the night and then a hush as the familiar drumming beat swelled in intensity. In time with the rhythm: the girls sang, dance and sway in a brilliant show of synchronicity. The precision and order of the dance was unbelievable. Dawn s mouth hung open in awe, How wonderful. She proclaimed. Ron smiled; pleased with himself. The beat persisted and soon the entirety of the mass was transfixed on the performance. An utterly faultless arrangement, until suddenly one of the young dancers shuddered. Whispered gasps were heard throughout the audience. Taken back that such synchronicity was halted by a single blemish. Regardless, the dance continues. Moments later another child s head jolts backwards, Raya Sayang! she shouted. Again, the assembly looks astonished.
RayaSayang. Someone else said in the audience. Another voice shushed the interruption as the dance carried on. A look of concern fell on Dawns face, Did you hear that Ron? she asked. Hear what, dear? He barely managed to register, still transfixed on the dance. Raya Sayang? What is that? Ron looked at her confused. It s the name of the dance, honey. Now pay attention. Dawn mulled over this, she was sure the name of the song was something different. Bothered, she decided not to become hysterical and finish the show.
Finally in the closing stages of the dance, the tempo increased two fold. By this time, the crowd is completely enthralled. Strangely, the drummer faltered a step then again. Subsequently, the entire rhythm began to fall apart. Dawn looked around and noticed everyone dancing off kilter. The once clear night sky became an eerie red. A once methodical drumming became completely disorganized. Dancers began to bump into one another. Rayasayang. Someone muttered and again. What the hell is going on? she cried to her husband. She nearly stumbled backwards upon inspection of his appearance. His body was stark white. As he turned his head, it shook and tremored wildly, she could barely make it out. Rayasayang Rayasayang Rayasayang Rayasayang Rayasayang!! He bawled loudly. Unexpectedly, the entire horde followed suit. Rayasayang Rayasayang Rayasayang Rayasayang!! Dawn shrieked. LORD HELP ME! she shouted as he approached her with hands outstretched. NO! He returned in a voice that is not his own. The ethereal voice whispered and screamed simultaneously. Effeminate in nature, yet masculine; it haunted Dawn to her core. She screamed into the night to see the man she loved in this state. Her boisterous outburst was completely drowned out by the symphony that was chaos. With her mind clouded in madness, she languidly gazed in the direction of the nearby waters. As she succumbed to unconsciousness, she questioned if the little girl that emerged from the deep really existed.
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