DOA

SAOTA HOUSE

Childhood was the only season of life when the world seemed to hold nothing but possibilities. Every unfamiliar corner promised an adventure, every unanswered question invited discovery, and every ordinary afternoon could become a story worth remembering. It was a time of scraped knees, muddy shoes, spontaneous laughter, and friendships that felt as permanent as the sky above their heads.

A life untouched by cynicism. Innocent. Clean.

A time that could never truly be found again at any other age.

"Are you sure the rabbits went in there, Wolf?" Hell asked, peering through the gaps in the rusting iron fence.

He had already checked the patch of grass beside the field twice. There was no sign of Moko or the other rabbit, and the longer they searched, the more convinced he became that their little adventure had turned into a disaster.

"Yes!" Wolf answered, his voice rising with panic. "I saw them run through the fence. What are we going to do?"

The five children stood before a sprawling, four-story house not far from the field where they had been playing. Its tall iron fence leaned at awkward angles, its surface eaten away by rust. Wild grass grew between the stone steps leading to the front gate, while thick vines climbed the pillars and crept across the boundary wall.

From a distance, the house looked like something borrowed from an Indonesian version of American Horror Story—an unsettling combination of a traditional Javanese joglo and an old Dutch colonial residence. Its broad wooden roof rose above rows of tall windows, some framed by intricately carved panels, others hidden behind faded curtains. A weather-beaten veranda stretched across the front, supported by pillars whose peeling paint revealed layers of age beneath.

Nothing about the place suggested that anyone had cared for it in years.

The house belonged to Mr. Saota, an elderly man who had lived there alone since an epidemic had taken the lives of his wives and descendants decades earlier. The story had circulated among neighborhood residents for as long as the children could remember. Some claimed that Mr. Saota rarely left the property. Others insisted they had never seen him at all.

The adults spoke of the house in lowered voices, and the children had been repeatedly warned not to trespass.

Naturally, that only made it more interesting.

"Let's go inside," Demon announced.

Soma immediately caught his sleeve.

"Are you crazy? Look at that place!"

"It's just a house."

"A scary house!"

"Then why are you afraid of a house?"

"Because it's scary, stupid!"

Demon opened his mouth to argue, but a sudden flash of lightning illuminated the windows behind the iron fence.

For an instant, the house seemed to have dozens of watching eyes.

Soma stepped closer to Hell.

"Maybe we should call our parents."

"And tell them we lost the rabbits because we couldn't watch them properly?" Hell asked.

That silenced her.

They had only recently received the rabbits as a gift from Wolf's father. The animals had become the center of their afternoons, and the children had promised to look after them carefully. Returning home without Moko would mean admitting that they had failed at the simplest responsibility they had ever been given.

Wolf looked close to tears.

"We have to find them."

The others exchanged glances.

Another flash of lightning stretched across the sky like a giant sword, momentarily dividing the old house into stark patches of silver and black.

One by one, the children nodded.

They were going inside.

The sky darkened by degrees, the fading daylight sinking behind the rooftops until the neighborhood appeared submerged beneath a vast, bruised canopy of clouds.

Dark masses gathered overhead like a rising tide, swallowing the last traces of blue. Pale streaks of cloud drifted between them, thin and ghostly against the gathering gloom. Every few moments, lightning ripped through the heavens, illuminating the distant houses and bare branches before plunging everything back into darkness.

The thunder followed with a delay that made the children increasingly aware of how far they had wandered from the safety of their homes.

"We'll split up," Hell whispered.

He crouched beside the side entrance, keeping his voice low enough that it would not carry beyond the fence. In his hand was a small stone he had picked up from the field.

"Whoever finds Moko first, get out quickly and bang on the iron gate with this. The rest of us can follow the sound."

Demon frowned.

"What if we find the other rabbit first?"

"Then take both of them and get out."

"And what if something is inside?"

Hell gave him a pointed look.

"Then don't stand around asking questions. Run."

For once, Demon had no immediate comeback.

The door beside them yielded when Hell pushed it. It opened with a faint, protesting creak, revealing a narrow passage leading into the overgrown yard.

Beyond the fence, the green field had begun to disappear beneath a thin mist rising from the damp ground. The familiar playground looked strangely distant, its swings motionless beneath the darkening sky.