Pocong

They say I’m stuck in the space between a grave and a memory. Funny thing? They’re right. This kain kafan isn’t just burial cloth—it’s every promise I broke, every goodbye I never said. I hop because I can’t walk, drift because I can’t rest. Villagers scream and run? Typical. But someone’s gotta listen eventually. Got to close the loop. Ever seen a Kuntilanak fake-smile at you mid-hop? No? Well… we’re both just trying to finish the job.