“It was just laying on the front-“

“Did you open it?”

“Ehm, no. I did not open it. Why, is something wrong?”

She quickly grabs the envelop from the table. “There is nothing for you to worry about,” she says sharply.

I flinch at the sudden abruptness of her tone.

When she notices the look on my face she adds,”Sorry dear, I did not mean to startle you. It is just that there have been some new reports about hate incidents going around again.”

At this my mouth drops open. “I just can’t believe those people! How can they preach about things like peace and still do stuff like that? I mean it isn’t like the ground we live on actually belongs to us so I don’t understand how they think that they can decide who gets to live here or not.”

My grandmother lets out a deep sigh. “Don’t worry about it. I will just throw it away.”

She turns around and stuffs it in some drawer. Then she grabs a wooden tray and two mugs out of the cabinet and places some food on it. The mugs she fills with the tea from the pot.

“Why don’t you bring this to your grandfather. He has not eaten anything since he started working this morning.”

She shakes her head. “I have told him so many times not to work so hard and take breaks, but he just doesn’t listen!”

I take the tray from her hand. “He is down in the workplace right?”

Before I could even hear her answer I am already out of the kitchen and halfway down the hallway.

Sticking her head outside of the door she yells, “Maybe you could try to shake some sense into that grandfather of yours!”

I am still softy chuckling to myself whilst I am walking down the stairs that lead the way to my favorite place in the house. That lead the way to my favorite place in the entire universe.

Entering the workshop, even though I have been many times, still feels like an act of discovery.

Here, things like past, present and future have no meaning. They are simply things to be left at the doorstep of yesterday.

On most days I feel like my presence in this world is as fleeting and fading as that melting snowflake on the window.

Like I am just occuring coincidentally at the same as everything else that is occurring in that particular moment.

Even though we are all the same, still we humans seem unable to ever really come close to one another at all. Like parallel lines that never meet, we exist in this vacuum world, where our hearts are destined to wonder until infinity what it would feel like to meet eyes with another of their kind.

A meeting where one will see, not with their eyes, but with their heart. I feel like then and, only then, will you truly be able to touch anything real in this world.

Are humans actually capable of this though? I highly doubt it. I mean, and even if we are, I don’t think I even would want to if I am honest.

However, whenever I am in the workshop I feel like, that if I only wanted to, I could touch every single star in the night sky.

That I could unravel even the secrets kept within the vault of the heavens themselves.

That, if I only wished it so, every untold story in the universe could unfold itself on the surface of the palm of my hands.

No, I think I would not mind it at all. Not one single bit.

If my world was limited to this place for the rest of my life.

How could I?

When this place feels more vast, more boundless than every starlit sky I have ever laid my eyes upon?

As I open the wooden door my eyes immediately fall towards the huge bookcase that nearly covers the entire left wall of the room. It is filled with all kinds of books, rolls of parchment paper and astrological maps. Directly hanging on the wall next to that are a vast array of clocks differing in size and colour. And up above a gleaming, cobalt astrological mural adorns the ceiling detailing in gold design the different constellations that serve as embellishments to our nighly skies.

As a child I often spend hours laying on the dark floorboards gazing at this spectacle whilst making up the most elaborate stories you could possibly imagine.

What has gotten me through those long dark nights in my life were those times were I would let myself believe in those brilliant tales in which I was sailing amidst those painted stars.

In those momentarily moments, I was infinite.

My childhood days seem so far away now.

I used to be able to recall those stories so vividly in my mind, but as the years went by they slowly started to drift away. It happened so gradually, so naturally that it almost was unnoticeable. Before I knew it I had arrived at the threshold of adulthood.

I am nineteen now, but I still don’t know what it feels like to be alive.

The only light in the room comes from a pair of oversized, hanging pendant lamps who, at this moment, are busy casting a delicate orange hue upon my grandfather’s face as he is hunched over at his desk in the corner. As usual, he seems to be completely engaged in whatever he has been working on.

I think I got that from him. We both are constantly performing an intricate balancing act in our lives with on one side the lands of creativity and on the other the realms of just complete and utter madness.

Sometimes I feel like there are only two types of forces in this universe. That which moves in the same direction to the flow of the unseen force that moves forward the hands of time and that which moves in direct opposition to this.

Logically, following this there then must be only two types of people in this universe as well. The ones who are able to live their lives in counterclockwise motion to this unseen force and the ones who are not.

People like to call those who are unable to do this ‘blessed by the forces of divine creation’ for it is believed that the best art pieces, creations, and inventions in our history sprung forth from the minds of those who have to spend every second of their lives living it at the mercy of that mysterious force.

However, it sounds more like a prison to me.

When the swing of every step in your life has to be in sync with the swing of the pendulum of the universe itself.

And as there is only path in life, for those of us who have to follow that spark of divine creative madness, there is only one path in death as well.

One day my grandfather will follow that same force as he has always done.

Its hand will feel just a little bit colder. Its grip will be just a little bit tighter.

But the feeling its familiarity will bring, is still just as warm, just as comforting as ever.

He will let it lead him to that place where dreams are born, and in accordance to the laws of this universe, where they will return to once they die.

One day my grandfather will quietly embark on the greatest adventure of his life.

There, beyond the very ends of time, he will make his first and last discovery he can’t tell me about for he has walked down the one path I can’t follow.

He has gone to the one place I can’t reach, and he has met the same, sad fate that awaits us all.

Someday we all have to come to terms with the ultimate truth of our existence.

That it does not matter how much you love someone in life.

They are but mere momentarily illusions to, at best, keep you warm at night by chasing away that universal, uninvited nocturnal visitor that likes to come in through slightly open windows and forgotten half-closed doors.

However, eventually a day will come when those cold drafts of truth will find you.

They will make an eternal home out of you.

This has been ordained since long, long ago.

Before the very first star drew its breath.

Before time was born.

Before there were things such as you and me in this world.

In the end, even the strongest bond forged in life will break when standing in front of the face of death.

There, the only real thing in our existence is left standing.

The truth is that we always have been walking alone.

Always were and always will be.

But, tonight I will close my windows and doors tight and let myself be warmed by the fires of illusion for just a little bit longer.

Tonight, the story I choose to believe in is one where I will never have to know what it would feel like to walk through life without feeling the warmth of my grandfather’s hand in mine.

I carefully walk across the dark floorboards of the workshop to where my grandpa is. There I set the plate of food down in an empty space I narrowly managed to find between the many sketches that are scattered all over the desk. Peeking over his shoulder I see that he has been working on what looks like to be some sort of Graphein. Only I don’t recognize the gemstone he is using for this one.

After a minute or so when he still hasn’t noticed me I decide to speak up. “What kind of stone are you using as the conduit for this one grandpa?”

He lets out a sound of surprise as the stone he is clutching slips between his fingers and falls to ground where it quickly rolls out of sight.

“Child, you almost scared this old man of yours to death!” he exclaims very loudly whilst dramatically holding a hand over his chest.

Okay, so I really hope I have not inherited his flair for drama from him as well. Rolling my eyes I get down on my knees to search for the fallen stone.

“Well, I have been standing here for over five minutes now.”

“Really? That’s strange. I didn’t notice you at all.”

“That’s because you always go somewhere into outerspace when you work,” I reply from underneath one of the desks.

“Ah, yes I think you may be onto something there,” he says, thoughtfully stroking his white beard.

“Did you see where the stone fell? I thought it ended up somewhere beneath this desk, but I can’t seem to find it.”

“Wait, I dropped the stone? I did not realize that either,” he says sheepishly.

It seems he wants to say more, but instead he is interrupted by a nasty cough that is trying to cleave its way out of his body.

My eyebrows furrow down. “Grandpa, you really should try to clean up more. There is just so much stuff and dust here that…” my voice trails off as my gaze falls upon something that is sticking out from behind a box of discarded mechanical parts.

I reach over to grab it and then sit back on my heels to take a proper look at it. Only, as soon as the light hits it, I wish I hadn’t.

“Ah, Casey I can explain-“

I interrupt him by standing up and walking over to one of the overhanging pendant lamps. There I throw the thing I am holding in my hands into its flames.

In silence me and my grandfather watch as the paper bottle label slowly burns until there is nothing left of it but a few ashes. Somehow the falling of these ashes makes me more sad than every snowfall ever could. This is why I don’t want grandpa to see my face when I say these next few words.

“I know you probably won’t stop no matter what we’ll tell you, but at least… try to not leave anything behind that grandma can easily find. If she saw this first you definitely would have been in so much trouble.”

After a few moments of silence my grandfather lets out a heavy sigh. “I am sorry, kiddo. I really am.”

I turn around.

“We all have our poison I guess,” I eventually say, shrugging my shoulders. “Hey, at least you are not running around trying to kill people.”

I walk over to where I sat the plate of food down. “Also, grandma prepared some food for us. We should eat it before it gets too cold.”

“I knew it! That’s why I was smelling something funny earlier.”

I grab the plate of food and walk over to my grandfather where I sit down on the only other chair in the room.

“Her cooking is not that bad. It’s just a little bit… peculiar that’s all.”

He gives a snort of laughter. “Tell that to me again after you have lived as her guinea pig for almost 50 years.”

Just like that everything returns to normal. As long as I keep folding.

As I always, always do.

I hold out the plate to him with a raised eyebrow. “Well, you’ll be glad to hear then that the food on this plate was not made by grandma. This is from our neighbours.”

It is almost comical how quickly my grandfather’s expression changes into one of interest.

“What are you waiting for, kid. Let’s dig in then!”

After we both have grabbed some food I set the plate down behind us.

When I turn back around I find my grandfather looking at the food in his hand with an almost wistful look on his face.

“Ah, an uunmak cake. My grandmother used to make this when I was a child during this time of the year. Shame that they are not as popular now.”

He looks at me. “Hey kid, do you know the legend behind this pastry? Why its name is what it is?”

“Hmm, I am not sure I do actually.”

“You know the story of how the Goddess of Death met her end?

“Yeah, how could I not,” I snort. “They used to tell that story every year when I was still in school. It is the one where she sacrificed herself and became a star or something right?”

“That’s almost correct. Only she did not just simply became a star. She actually became the embodiment of the entire night sky itself.”

“I know you are dying to tell the story grandpa, ” I laugh. “So just go for it.”

He dramatically clears his throat before he begins.

“So this story takes place in a time where the Gods still roamed the planet and walked freely among men. It was a period of immense peace and prosperity, that is until they were brutally betrayed by one of their own. This became the catalyst for what is known as The Great War today. During the battles that took place in this period millions of lives were lost. Thankfully, the Gods were able to defeat the one who was responsible for this most disastrous event. However, they came to stand for a dilemma because of their immortal nature they could not kill manage to kill them. Eventually they decided that the best option they had, was to lock this betrayer away. So as a punishment they chained them to Tualis, the most northern star in our sky.”

He takes a little pause before he continues.

“However, the story is not over yet for the legends say, that if this chain would ever break, chaos and darkness would flood into the world, causing the stars to be devoured and the world as we know it to end.”

“This is when the Goddess of Death comes in right?”

“Bingo!” says my grandfather as he snaps his fingers. “In the end, she chose to sacrifice herself by turning into a star so she could make sure that this would never happen. But by weaving herself into the fabric of the heavens, she actually became the embodiment of the entire night sky itself.

From that moment on our night-veiled sky was adorned by not one, but two northern pole stars. The names of those twin northern pole stars, as you probably know, are Tualis and Tuala, meaning Accurser and Accursed respectively.

The fate of the goddess and the betrayer were intertwined, forevermore. For all the stars belong to the night sky, even the Tualis that became a prison for this betrayer, which meant that a part of her essence, part of her very soul now also holds the same chaos and darkness that resides within them. She essentially condemned herself to eternal damnation.”

“That’s very noble and all grandpa, but what does this all have to do with the pastry again?