Buku Cerita Mona Gersang Mega -
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“To free the rain,” whispered Mega Tua , “you must write the ending.”
Mona had no ink. She had no pen. The wind was her only tool. She bit her lip, then her own fingertip, and pressed a single crimson dot onto the blank page.
Every day, Mona climbed the highest rib of the whale-fossil and opened her book. It was a storybook, but every page was a desert. It spoke of oceans that had once kissed the shore, of rivers that sang. The last page was blank.
The cloud pointed a wispy, skeletal finger at her book. “That one.”
“To free the rain,” whispered Mega Tua , “you must write the ending.”
Mona had no ink. She had no pen. The wind was her only tool. She bit her lip, then her own fingertip, and pressed a single crimson dot onto the blank page.
Every day, Mona climbed the highest rib of the whale-fossil and opened her book. It was a storybook, but every page was a desert. It spoke of oceans that had once kissed the shore, of rivers that sang. The last page was blank.
The cloud pointed a wispy, skeletal finger at her book. “That one.”