Chapter 1

A long day of shelf stacking, smiling to strangers and answering the same question all the time. The front door unlocks with a cold click and the brush of house heating hits me. The smell comes after, there is never mistaking a pet owners house - dust, fluffy fur and the pungent aroma's. Checking your step into the house to avoid any presents left by one the cats. The whining of happy dogs waiting to see you that become to excited. Best hurry inside before having to clean them up too. Door closed and locked behind - no uninvited strangers allowed. Putting my heavy bag to the stairs and be head bumped by the little fluffiest cat that likely dropped the dead mouse at the door for you. Purring loud to be picked up and cradled like a baby. Pets with just enough loving. Put down, coat off.

"I will let you out in just a moment!" I exclaimed to my poop dogs. Not barking but singing the song of their pack. Honouring my return with such loud songs. My neighbours dogs are the same for loudness on home returns, we can't complain to each other. In fact, my neighbour to my right loves my home greetings, as my dogs are hilarious to them. I trip over the second and third cat. Cross the baby gate (to prevent dogs eating litter treats when I am not home). I get jumped and pushed to the floor by my three dogs upon making the living room threshold. To be licked and loved all over. The eventual command of 'enough. time to go out.' is plenty for them to line up at my back door. Unlocking it and releasing the hounds to the poor pigeons outside. None caught and ate today. Not happened yet.

I have enough freedom to finish getting out of uniform, picking my mail up and making a drink for myself. I turn the TV to something different and sit at my desk set up at my living room. Some bills... nothing to expensive or unexpected. A card. I will think I will open it last. A strange black envelope skip. package... wax sealed. Also skip. I let the dogs back in and read my card then.

A condolence card, written reems of paragraphs about why this is being sent to me. My dogs seem very interested in the package that, distracting me enough to move it away from them. Onto the kitchen counter out of reach for now. I go back to reading the card with getting lost. I had to restart reading it again. But I still couldn't accept was written. Reading it again.

The card didn't have a sender's name nor did the inside of it finish telling me everything. Yet at the very least, my biological father's family are part of some cult. I wish it was. It's a society or church if researched online. At a basic level, the spirit practice my mom taught me was from them. She only keeping these practices, because it was part of my heritage and she didn't want disrespect what is a part of me. My mother wasn't a member and wasn't known about to the church society. She didn't know as much detail as this A4 card was informing me. Our misfortune had prevented me from being forced into the society until now. As what I mean to say, my learning difficulty of moving school to school in America had kept us off track records.

This card does several things. Frist to apologise for the loss of my grandparents. Second to inform me that my biological father is missing (and seems like they are looking for him too). It was a brief and strange introduction of what the society is to an outsider. It gave me where the plot was for the graves. Some minor contact detail about inheriting money and fees. The card ended mid sentence, and there wasn't any more writing on it. Like the writer just stopped the pen right at that. Wanting to write on and didn't. I fold the card and placed it into a safe spot away from pets. My attention goes to the black envelope and the box now sitting in my kitchen.

I pet several of my pets before opening the next letter. I sort of get that it was to continue where the card didn't. It's gotten quiet late, everyone is hungry and I have to consider my own health too. I want to think over the card before I continue reading.

If anything in my memories about my other grandparents had aligned any sense towards this society informing me. They had black paper mail too, I remember that. My mom thought they were in a cult or doing something shady. She didn't like me staying over night, and when I had to - she warned me to not do anything that was wrong. Although she could tell I improved a lot in educational thoughts when I did stop over with them. My grades would buffer slightly better, she asked me about it. I would tell her what we did together. Yeah, I can understand from her view. It did seem off and my memories are a little hazed now that I am older. I am away from that life style but there is small habits that I have kept.

Like diet chooses; I still eat plenty of nut based foods and pick seasonal local produce then super market. Everyone in my family love teaching cooking skills, even my mom's dad taught me how to BBQ. My other grandparents taught me those skills too, measuring and following recipes. If I was changing a recipe as while I made it, then in knowing my ingredients of what it is and why its there then outcome should be expected. I make my own prayer candles with sourced the smells for it based on the person I am trying to remember, a tradition passed down to me and kept in respect. That would be what the box is. It will be for making the candle in their memory. The strange smells would interest cats and dogs, they are nosey pets. Keeping pets is another thing. Everyone had a cat or dog. My brother had a snake he hide from my family. It died naturally of old age. In hindsight, the memories do make sense with my other grandparents. It makes sense to me of the habit I have and the morals I kept.

I was ready to read this letter continuation. Dogs and cats fed. I had a shower and was in typical clothing for me. I turned the reading light on and sat at the sofa, opening the black envelope. There seemed nothing at glance, but unfolding with care. A necklace rolled to my hand. I remember my grandmother wearing hers. There was a sort of purple sand in the envelope too, I kept it in there for now.

'This is an unofficial invite to have a face to face conversation in regards of many truths, a potential job and a outlook towards a potential near future outcome for you. Yet accepting you among the fold would require a drastic change to your life. Before making a choose of what is best, it be was to put thought through with long consideration. Indeed please consider this a warning.

If you choose to turn away and not join. You are more than welcome. We understand that not everyone is right for our ways. There is no one size fits all. We can discuss the fees that was left over from the funeral expenses. There is several items that were left to you and importantly anything in regards to your father.

If you so wish to join, please do not blame us for your choose. Becoming welcomed into a wider view is a difficult grasp of concept. We are not at fault for any misfortune that follows from this letter onwards. Either way, you will still have to make some arrangement to speak to a local member. The business contact details will be in the package. Do what you will with the contents.'

The wording was somewhat ruder on this black paper then the card. Once again no name of the sender and not signed at the bottom. This necklace isn't my grandmothers, she had hers longer. It was worn out more and she had to polish it herself. This was a fake silver metal necklace, newer and not so nice at the touch. I would bet that it would melt. I have always choose to wear full pure metals, given alloy metals ate my skin. I stand up. Fished some empty clean jars from my kitchen. In one jar is the purple sand, this necklace, and I folded the black paper into a origami figure. The second jar is larger for the candle stuff in the package. It wasn't much in here and going by the tampering of it being opened - boarder control must have drug tested it or removed any plants not allowed into the country. So this was a incomplete candle making set, with missing smells. Whatever is left was put to the spare jar.

The business card is still here with an American phone number, faxing number and email. It's five or seven hour difference between us - I am at prime time to make a call. This is however going to be expensive, so... how do I do this? Online. I could call using the internet. Am I really ready to talk to total strangers, at late hour of the night. Straight after work and not ate food yet. Nope. I will hold off making the call. I put these jars where my cups are kept, and the business card is photographed on my phone. Magnet pinned to my fridge to remember tomorrow. Not a part of the package is left behind, all of it tipped into the jar. The carboard also shelved away from pets.

I made my dinner tonight and I let my mind tick over. I let my memories flow, become remembered and fade again. A passive bad feeling was pressing me, like I knew that the misfortune was going to happen. My dreams reliving the times back then, while also presenting thoughts my older wiser self was able to see past. I turned everything off and settled the night with all my pets around me. I went to bed with a stomach ache and headache. I made a last check on my phone for any sort of plans tomorrow. I don't see so terrible with not being so alone with them here. I will need to seek closure or at least learn if their passing was true. I will have to call my folks tomorrow. Worry about it later.

My morning started with mother nature paying me some her time. Bed sheet with stain removed in the washing machine. The constant lean of my dogs at my feet or giving me a good smell - dogs. My cat wanting to sit on my shoulder all the time. I guess the stress had been a early trigger for me. It's not the only freaky thing about my morning. My jars of letter stuff was different from how I left them. The Necklace now has a purple gemstone set into the middle of it. The candle jar was grounded dust inside.

When I look into a mirror or a reflection of myself, I seem to be wearing mask of a white clay surface across my face. It prevents my eyes and mouth being visible in my reflection. But I reach around my face and there isn't any sort of 'mask' there. It is weird part about me. Yet than there is also what is outside, a lot of folks from some amine convention are walking about the streets at the front of my house. They seem normal other then being off dressed. Then again, I don't really stick around people watching to make any further notes about it all. For the time being, I turned my TV to the News. Make a coffee. I spat my coffee when the news reporter is having his tie retied by a guy with white whites. I coughed for a while and had my dogs all over checking my drink for me. Sniffing at whatever I spat everywhere. Dogs. The cat that been sitting across both my shoulders was now cleaning itself of my spit, cats. I can't complain about being a pet owner. I wanted them.

My mind thinks about the sort of warning I got from reading the card and letter. Now that I am not half zombie reading it. Maybe it was about time for another read through it all in one go. Absolutely nothing about reading it again has changed. What did was the front of the card. I didn't pay mind about it before because it was just some random flowers with the words 'Sorry for your loss'. The flowers on the front weren't coloured when I opened this, black and white images really. Now its red roses, white poppy, purple lavender and a sort of lily. These flowers were a circle around the unchanged words. They were vibrant and pretty, I took a smell of it - it was just as the flowers on it were. Which then made me worry, lily is toxic to cats and dogs. I am glad to caught it now, putting the card into a zip lock bag and putting out of reach of my animals.

I got to make those calls today.

Ugh, not that I want to. I don't want to know if this was real or not.

If they really are dead...

Do I really have to go back over there and make a mess of what little my crazy family are doing now? I avoided the whole family because of the problems. Since I moved here, I choose to make my holiday calls back there and that's it. But this seeing things isn't me going crazy either. More coffee, more thinking.

Damned it all. I should have done more. Fake or not, I should pay them a visit. Not that I have ever afforded it. Getting British citizenship was a hassle enough, required by the job centre for better job openings. I am just getting by and back on my feet with the minimal job I have.

"Onto the Weather." I looked back to the tv. I pay mind to what it might be in the next few days. I ignore the horned business suit making the weather map malfunction. I peer about my coffee, it seems fine and I sip it. The report for the weather ended, and I leaned on the nearest surface. A long aggravated sigh. My headache was softly returning and I realized I left my phone in my room. I stretched with getting the cat off my shoulders, and my hand knocked on my phone. I blinked in staring at my phone sitting on the counter in front of me. I peer about my reflection. I am not wearing that clay mask. But it returned to me with suddenly a notebook where I wrote my contacts in.

When my face wears this mask, my headache is gone. It's rather distracting to not be use to this. If I want to pass off as getting over what seems to be going on. It seems I must learn myself. A good thing I have today off. This is no fit condition to work in a shop. I have to be careful about the weird people. I have to get use to this mask. I have to find myself a bit.

Phone.