Lanterns in the Sky

                                    

                                          


                          
 The little girl with the butterfly braids quietly stepped out onto the doorstep in front of her apartment. Her eyes were calm and calculated, and she held her hands out politely in front of her. 
                          
	She sat on the brick next to the hedges, glancing at the erosion taking place on the face of the building. Her grandfather emerged from the building a moment later and took a seat next to her.
                          
	He clasped his hands after stroking his long white beard of sheep's wool, and let his big, blue eyes stare into hers. The little girl remained unmoving, staring up at the sky.
                          
	"Grandpapa, what used to be in the sky?" she hummed quietly.
                          
	"What do you mean, sweet girl?"
                          
	"People in the country, they say that there used to be something up there. Something you can see at night. But all I can see is gray," she explained. 
                          
	He was troubled, looking at this puzzled little mind of hers. But he knew what she spoke of, although it felt as though it had been a millennium since he'd last seen them.
                          
	"Are you speaking of the stars?" he asked her.
                          
	She nodded. "You've heard of them?" she looked at him.
                          
	He chuckled. "Yes, dear. There used to be a time when you could see them even in the midst of this city."
                          
	The little girl stared in wonder, trying to fathom such a thing. "What did they look like?"
                          
	He tried to find a way to explain, so there was a long pause before he replied. "They were a million flecks of light, all scattered in the sky. A million grains of rice. A billion pieces of white sand, all sprinkled up there," he told her.
                          
	She looked at the streetlamp. "Like little lanterns in the sky?" 
                          
	He smiled and took her hand. "Yes. Like little lanterns in the sky," he stood up. "Now let's go back inside and get you in bed."
                          
	"No," she refused. "Grandpapa, what happened to them?"
                          
	"The stars?" he turned around to face her.
                          
	"Yes," she pouted. 
                          
	He sat back down, his old joints aching. Letting out a sigh, he said one word. "Humans."
                          
	She looked at him. "Humans took the stars out of the sky?"
                          
	"Yes, darling."
                          
	"How?"
                          
	He shifted uncomfortably, but decided to tell her. "It wasn't intentional. Long ago, there were brilliant men with brilliant ideas for machines never even imagined before. These machines were built, and they evolved into factories. From the factories, smoke rose into the sky."
                          
	"That's how things are now," she commented.
                          
	"They thought that they were doing good for humanity, but the more smoke there was, the more the world burned. The smog smothered the stars," he explained. 
                          
	"Why didn't they stop it?" she asked. "Why would people let them do that?"
                          
	"I don't know," he admitted. "Things used to be very different."
                          
	She stood and felt pain gush through her when she stared off into the darkness. Sirens rang in the distance, vehicles whizzing by without taking notice of her. The city moved around her, but she remained unmoving. "What was it like when the stars still shone?"
                          
	"Oh honey, it's not just the stars. You used to be able to see out into the horizon where the oceans were clear and blue. And every night, there were these things called sunsets. It was a display of every color imaginable, blending into the cool night. When it snowed, you could catch the snowflakes on your tongue... and," he got carried away in the distant memories of his youth. "And get this! The sky used to be blue of all colors!"
                          
	"Blue?" she murmured. 
                          
	"Yes! Blue! Oh, and the birds, you could hear them singing in the trees, and the rain was clear, and-" he rambled on.
                          
	"You're just telling stories!" she exclaimed. "Stop pulling my leg!"
                          
	"No, it was real! It was very, very real!" he swung her around.
                          
	She giggled and blushed, and he sat her back down. She let out a long yawn, and her eyes drooped.
                          
	"Alright. Let's get you to bed."
                          
	She climbed up into his arms, and as he led her back in, the clouds cleared in a small patch. It was hardly noticeable. You'd have to be looking very carefully to spot it. She squinted, and as he closed the door, she thought that she saw something out there, in this patch of clear sky. 
                          
	It was small, golden, and it twinkled like a lantern in the night sky.