"Anyana Lorshka, get your ass over here, now!" Grandpa's voice shook with command as he pointed demandingly at the spot next to him.
Grandpa gripped a book in his hand, splattered with paint and covered in small doodles. His patience wore thin as he took in the mess the little child had created.
Controlling himself, he looked to the village below, letting his anger wash away in the familiar view. Waiting for Anya, Grandpa traced a finger in the air, coloring the village in strokes of gold, juniper, chartreuse, vermillion, and hints of teal, with the tip of his finger.
'If only my easel hadn't been trampled down by that monkey,' he thought, clutching his hands around imaginary brushes. The pain in not having them at his fingertips, made him harrumph with defeat. 'Talk about genetics,' is all he thought before turning away with a snort.
Memories of his daughter floated across his vision. Grandpa shook his head with a small smile as he leaned down carefully, sinking to a resting position. His anger dissipated wandering elsewhere, looping around the image he created.
He recalled the play of light on the village, overseeing the final colours of the view in front of him. He memorized the definition in the shadows weighing down colors into its dreary crevices. He labeled them off as he ticked off different shades to showcase the hidden mystery of their depths. It contrasted quite drastically against the final golden glows disappearing in the foliage of the vast mountains. Maybe he can color the mountains in ominous tones-
Suddenly, a loud clatter broke him out of his daze. Tampering down another scream, Grandpa looked behind him into the living quarters.
A little girl slowly peeked over from behind the straw basket overflowing with toys. With a sulk she padded her way towards her Grandpa, sitting exactly on the place he pointed at. Their legs dangled over the porch as the winds played against their skin, tugging at them, to reciprocate with their silly ideas.
Anya played with her hands, picking at the dried stains of paint on her clothes. Her small lips pouted in distraction. Or maybe it was boredom?
'If it's this kid, it's probably both.'
Grandpa's thoughts turned into an affectionate warmth as he pulled the girl closer, seating her on his knee. She looked up at him with teary eyes.
"Owwww, DHADHA!" she shrieked.
"Hold still, you wild thing! The paint is gonna dry in your hair if I don't untangle it now."
Grandpa tugged at her hair, and she whimpered silently. The sun had passed by the mountains when Grandpa finished with her hair. She slumped into his chest, defeated with exhaustion. Her two palm trees were straight and even on her head now.
"Dhadha. You so slow."
She pinched his arm with tiny fingers. Grandpa squeezed her cheeks, and she laughed before a yawn took over. Grandpa licked his thumb and rubbed at the paint on Anya's face, her eyes drifting to a close.
"My child, when will you learn?" he asked quietly, brushing her hair from her face.
"When Anya learn?" Anya looked up at him, confused, before climbing up to rest her head on his shoulder.
Grandpa nodded against her head, rocking back and forth, humming a folk tune. Anya joined in playing with her Grandpa's bandana on his head. Twirling it around her finger, getting frustrated when it would slip out.
Grandpa encouraged her once more, playfully poking her cheek when she didn't answer.
"When will my baby Anya learn?"
Anya suddenly jerked up, as light-filled her round eyes.
"Stars, Dhaadha!"
She pointed up energetically, as she looked at the stairs up ahead.
Grandpa sighed, looking up with her.
'A sea of broken light,' Grandpa thought, his vision swimming with swirls of colors forming to create a star. They joined at the center like an unraveling lotus, fluttering petals shimmering away in the form of hope.
'Maybe to lend some for the helpless people down below.'
"Ask the stars!"
What Anya had said, jolted Grandpa from his thoughts.
"Hmm?"
"Mama said to tell the stars when Anya," she stumbled over the words, "...when Anya don't know."
Grandpa arched a nonexistent eyebrow.
"Hmm. Let's ask the stars."
Anya got off from Grandpa's lap and sat beside him, hands clasped in front of her in prayer. Grandpa chuckled, receiving an angry poke in return.
"Dhadha, the stars will hit you! Do this!" she gestured at her clasped hands in front of her, aggressively trying to get him to do the same.
Grandpa quickly copied her and smiled as he looked at the sky.
"Anya, did you know?" Grandpa asked after Anya's hushed prayers ceased to a stop.
Anya kissed her hands, letting loose the prayers she whispered into her palms to the air. Grandpa could imagine the small flutters of light that escaped her opening palms. A flurry of fireflies, on their way to deliver the fervent prayers of a little child.
Grandpa murmured a soft prayer and did the same, hoping that the shining entities receive his sincere prayers.
"Hm?" Anya perked her head towards him.
"If you look closely, you can see the fairies who work the stars."
Anya looked above, squinting her eyes.
"Dhadha, I can't see them."
"Child, come here. I'll show you."
Anya scrambled to him.
"How?"
Grandpa covered her eyes with his thin hands, and she laughed, trying to pry them open.
"Anya, you have to be patient."
Grandpa's voice stilled her and she waited, trying to peek in between his fingers.
"Anya, you have to see with your heart. You have to look up at the stars and call them to you. Call them to your heart and speak to them in your language. Whisper colours of life and draw them a path towards you when the moon blinks and signals their entrance. The fairies only dance their beauty when you hold for them the same affection they hold for you, my child."
A warm silence filled them as Anya heard his words, processing them.
'The monkey listens well only in times like these,' Grandpa chuckled softly.
"Dhadha, can I see now?" Anya whispered, voice filled with awe.
"Are you ready?"
She nodded her head, and he opened his hands from her eyes, releasing a vision he hoped she would be able to see.
"What do you see, Anya?"
She was quiet, any signs of happiness were gone from her. Grandpa looked at her face and she was regarding the stars with curiosity.
"Dhadha? Are all stars fairies?"
Grandpa shrugged, "maybe."
"But I only see Mama."
Grandpa's heart thudded in his chest.
"Anya-," he thought of something else to say, "your Mama is a fairy too. Right, my child?"
Anya didn't respond, as she played with the edges of her small dress.
"But Mama isn't dancing, Dhadha."
Grandpa's chest tightened, as he looked up at the stars. Indeed only one star shone the brightest tonight. Grandpa tightened his eyes, as he tried to hold back the memories of his daughter.
Anya wasn't looking at the stars anymore, as she picked at something in her hand. Grandpa tried to change the subject.
He swooped her into his arms and she screamed in shock. He danced with her in circles, hopping, joints cracking, until she smiled with joy.
"DHADHA!!! FASTER!!!" Anya laughed, forgetting the stars and looking at her Grandpa.
"Dhadha is my dancing star," Anya hugging his neck, slowly hummed herself to sleep.
'The same tune her mother had left her.'
Grandpa smiled sadly as he washed her face and tucked her in. Her hammock swayed gently, as he sat still watching the few stars fizzle out. Yet one still remained. Sorrowful and frozen. Unwilling to go.
"Sora, your child calls," Grandpa muttered to the shifting night.
He looked away, kissing Anya's little forehead before closing the curtains, and shutting away that one blinking star.
The star that twinkled for someone else's sky.