"Nothing lasts forever"

A heavy burden was lifted off Junho’s shoulders when the last guest walked out of the house, leaving him alone at last. As soon as the door was closed behind him, he unleashed his tie and threw it on a nearby chair along with his jacket. Reaching the living room, he finally got the chance to let himself fall face-down onto the couch. Body and soul, completely exhausted.

So many people, always the same conversation. “Park Jinyoung-sshi was such a great man.” Like Junho needed to be told that, he had been his grandfather after all. “He would be so proud of you.” Sometimes, he doubted that to be honest, and after hearing those words over and over again they started to sound like ridicule. What had he done to be so proud of? Dropped out of college? Barely managed to hold onto a minimum wage job as a waiter? Real achievements. And the worst one: “I know how you feel.”  Of course they didn’t. Though they had maybe lost someone dear to them too, it was not the same. Losing someone was always different. He should know. Besides, how could they know how he felt, when he wasn’t exactly sure himself.

But now, when Junho was finally alone like he had craved all day, the silence felt too heavy, deafening. Most of all, he wanted to hide under a big dark blanket and sleep for days, weeks even. How he wished that was possible, but it wasn’t. Everything needed to be packed and stored by the end of the month, when he would hand the house keys over to the new owners. The first thing he had done when his grandfather died was to put the house on sale, and a traditional Korean house at the best spot in the city, it had been sold within days. There was no way he could afford keeping it, and he didn’t really want to live here alone. Starting over sounded like a much better plan.

Though now it felt like he had been too rash. Waiting a month or two would probably have made everything easier, and given him time to get used to the idea of moving away from the house he had grown up in. But then again, dragging things on when he had made a decision wasn’t exactly his style.

For a brief moment of weakness he wished he hadn’t declined the neighbor’s offer for help with the cleaning, or at least that he had accepted his high school friends’ suggestion of joining him to pack his things and move. Quickly, he pushed the thought away. This was his house, his grandfather and that meant his responsibility. He didn’t need anybody’s help.

A couple of more minutes he allowed himself the luxury of keeping his eyes closed. Before long though, he could almost hear his grandfather nagging at him:

“Nothing is going to happen on its own, you need to move your and take some action.”

So even though Junho didn’t particularly feel like it, he dragged himself up and stumbled to the kitchen. His restaurant had handled the catering of the funeral, and lazily he started putting things away into the fridge. A lot more people had showed up than he had expected, but the leftovers were still going to last him for more than a week. Some of the unexpected guests had been weird though, now that Junho thought about it. Elderly men and women he had never even heard about, randomly showed up without properly introducing themselves, all gathering in one corner of the living room, speaking in hushed tone, sending him evil glances. Well, their looks had maybe not been evil exactly, but scrutinizing certainly, accusing almost, though it didn’t make any sense. How this could be his fault? Nobody could make their grandfather get Alzheimer.

When all the food had been safely stored, Junho went to his granddad’s study, figuring he’d start cleaning it and put his books into boxes, make them ready for storage. He started by pulling the drapes away, letting the evening sun light up the room. The cherry trees in the garden were in full bloom and seeing them caused a sting in Junho’s chest. His grandfather had always loved this season and flowers had always managed to put a smile on his face, at least before he got sick. Lately though, he had just been hiding in his study, getting crazier and crazier until his heart couldn’t take it anymore.

Sighing at what seemed to be an impossibly big task, Junho got some boxes and planned to start, but ended up staring out of the window instead. As he was looking out, he noticed some weird markings at the bottom of the window frame. At first he wasn’t sure if they were new or had always been there, but as he looked closer, it seemed like there were old markings underneath, but had recently been recreated with a black marker, some sort of a human stick figure holding a globe, and weird symbols all around, like something written in an unfamiliar alphabet. Going to the next window, Junho saw similar markings there too, and sighed.

His grandfather had always been interested in the occult, in children’s stories and fairytales, in fantasy and the supernatural. As a kid Junho had loved his stories, loved sitting in his lap as he was told all kinds of tales of mystical creatures, heroes and their adventures. During his teenage years his interests shifted to other things, and his grandpa didn’t push his stories on him after that.

Not until those past couple of years, when he had gotten sick, and the lines between reality and fiction became more and more blurred, until they finally disappeared and his grandfather started believing in everything he spoke of. Junho still enjoyed his stories, though they were nonsense of course, but they were true to him, and his eyes sparkled and they made him full of life, so it almost felt like he still had his old grandfather again. At least for a moment, until he got lost again.

But Junho had absolutely no idea his grandfather had been scribbling on window frames, and honestly wished he hadn’t, because now it obviously had to be washed off. He doubted the new owners liked that kind of décor in their new house. So after fetching the bucket and some cleaning agents, he started. Endless amount of scrubbing was needed, but eventually they came off. Having some suspicions Junho also checked the living room windows and to his disappointment they shared the same kind of drawings, as did the bottom of the doorframe, down by the floor.

When Junho was finished checking every window in the house, he could finally start his original task, though he was already feeling exhausted. To rest, he sat down for a while by the desk, and started to clean up his grandfather’s mess. Most of the things were junk and they got thrown out one by one, occasional object put away for storage. But as Junho opened up the first drawer, his heart stopped completely. The drawer was completely empty, except for one folded paper, on which was scribbled:

“To Junho”

Suddenly wide alert, his hands shook as he took up the piece of paper and unfolded it, revealing only one sentence, written with his grandfather’s delicate handwriting:

“Where the magpie sings its heart out, your story will be revealed.”

Junho let out a deep breath of disappointment. This seemed to be just another one of his grandfather’s crazy talk. But as he cleaned out the other drawers, his mind wouldn’t let it go, kept fixating on those words, especially magpie. There was something about it that ticked him off, wouldn’t leave him alone. Trying not to think about it, he took out the trash, but as he did it suddenly hit him. Dropping the bags to the floor, Junho almost ran towards the hallway. Carefully stepping around the wooden floors made them squeak and he almost squealed in excitement. This was it. This had to be it.

Now it started coming to him, all the times his grandfather had made fun of the squeaking floor, pretending he was like the kings of the old times, making floors with sounds like singing birds so they could never be attacked without warning. But since the sound of their floor wasn’t exactly music, he had called it their magpie songs.

Walking around the hallway for a while, Junho went through the sentence again in his head, “Where the magpie sings its heart out...” That must mean where the squeaking was the loudest. Walking back and forth, concentrating on the sound, he finally came to the conclusion that the squeaking was loudest in the corner by the bathroom door. Going down on his knees, Junho’s hand felt around the wooden boards, trying to see if there was a way to pick them up. Finally one of them gave in, and he lifted it off the floor, revealing a hole underneath. Disappointed there was only darkness, nothing in there, Junho cursed silently for having forced meaning into the crazy ramblings of a sick man, but still he reached down into the hole.

It was deep, much deeper than it looked, and when his arm was almost entirely inside the hole, his fingertips touched something warm. He grabbed it and pulled it up. It was a book. Medium sized, not that thick, bound in brown leather, no markings on the front.

A rush of warmth pass through Junho as he held it, almost like the book was responding to his touch, like it knew it belonged to him. Carefully, he opened up the cover, and on the first page was written:

“For my sunshine boy”

Briefly looking through the pages, he noticed all of them were covered in handwritten text from his grandfather, with some drawings as well. Excited to take a better look, Junho stood up, went to the living room, and with a blanket he cozied up in his grandfather’s armchair. Slowly he turned the first page, and started to read.

“Once upon a time…”

Junho smiled to himself, of course his grandpa would start his book like a fairytale, and he continued reading.

“Once upon a time, there was a mean and inconsiderate man, who had driven everyone away with his selfish ways. Long ago his only daughter had left him, so he was living alone in his house of solitude, buried in his research and his stories, never noticing or caring about the world around him.”

Eyes glued to the text, Junho continued to read, starting to recognize it was his own story his grandfather was writing about.

“One day, on a stormy night, there was a loud knock on the door. Annoyed at being interrupted during his studies, the mean old man still answered the door, ready to yell at the person disturbing his peace. However, he was stunned to see that standing outside in the rain were not salesmen or religious people with their propaganda, but his own daughter, the one he hadn’t seen for years. Before the man got the chance to gather his thoughts, a small bundle of blankets was pushed into his arms.

'It’s your grandson, you take care of him now, protect him.' And with that she was gone forever.”

Stunned, Junho kept reading, his grandfather had told him that his mother had left him with him, but they rarely talked about any detail, or about her at all, so he drank in every single word.

“So now the mean old man was left alone with a baby that he had no idea what to do with, or how to take care of, but somehow everything worked out, to some degree at least. But at that time, this was a burden to the selfish man, and he had no idea this little boy would change his world forever, fill his life with sunshine, and chase away the loneliness in his heart forever, shower his days with love and laughter.”

Without realizing it, tears had started to flow down Junho’s cheek, and suddenly it hit him. His grandfather was really gone, and he would never ever be back. Never cook for him one of his simple but delicious dishes, never great him with a smile or a frown, never complain about him making noise, but then getting equally as caught up in the game as his grandson was. Never do anything ever again.

It was strange how sudden it felt, like everything had been taken away from him in an instant. Though his grandpa had been sick for over two years, and the doctors had repeatedly told Junho he could go at any moment, he never really believed them, not truly. Not his grandfather. He had always been there so he always would, right?

Only now when everything was over Junho realized how stupid he had been, that this was real. The funeral had not just been a performance and his grandfather would actually never be back. Hugging the newfound book with all his might, Junho cried for the moments that he missed, for the ones they would never have. He cried because of the unfairness of it all, and because now he was left all alone. Until he could no more, Junho cried his heart out, exhausting himself, eventually falling asleep in his grandfather’s chair.

It had turned dark as he read his grandfather’s story, but when Junho woke up, it was beginning to turn bright again. Rubbing his neck, he felt stiff and even more tired before. As he was planning to go to his bedroom and catch some proper sleep, he suddenly heard a sound coming from upstairs.

Feeling alert, he slowly walked towards the stairs, picking up his baseball bat from the closet. Still holding onto his grandfather’s book, as quietly as possible he walked up the stairs. Now it came in handy, all those years as a teenager where he had carefully studied which stairs would cause a squeak, so he could escape the house unnoticed. When he reached the top of the stairs without making any noise, he heard the sound again, ruffling from his grandfather’s room.

There was someone in the house.