[ WP ] Your grandpa has died . Whilst clearing his house , you discover a secret compartment of his desk , full of papers documenting his double life .

Even though its long I hope you will like this text. Feel free to criticise, I would be very grateful. If you want more stories pm me: 
 
 I stood in the cold of the morning before the house, looking at the old shack, where my Grandpa used to live the last years. My good old man lived far away from civilisation in the forests of Blackburn Mountain, Alaska. Our whole family never understood his decision to not stay with us in Detroit. Some even called him a madman. I never did. 
 
 While I pushed the heavy door open, my nose was greeted by a thick aroma of vanilla tobacco and paper. Memories flooded my brain. Gramps always used to smell like this. He raised me for a big portion of my live, until I was fifteen I believe. While he once worked as a clerk for insurance companies, which I thought of to be a very very boring profession, he never quite seemed like an accountant clerk to me. I still remember him making me dinner, mostly porridge and then telling me a bedtime story. Even after he left I told stories to myself, dreaming of adventures. 
 
 I closed the door. The interior of the shack, it was only one big room, was as cold as outside. There were three windows, one at the front and two at the sides, which all shed light on one Bed, which stood right next to a tile stove at the back of the room. The other significant parts of this little home of him were one wardrobe, one very old worktable with a chair, and one shelf with a few books. It all just seemed so empty. 
 
 After I put down my clothes on the bed and tried to create a fire in the stove, I remembered how the funeral was. The people in the village nearby did n't really know him. He just came in the morning, stayed there at a restaurant for the rest of the day eating and writing and then left when the sun was about to set. I was the only person at his burial. My parents did n't have the time to drop by. They never developed a good relationship with him. 
 I think the main reason of this conflict was that my mother was raised alone without him and blamed him for the rest of his life because of that. Even my older sister did n't come. Just me, fresh out of college, with no job, and not knowing what I want to do with my life. 
 
 The fire started burning and I felt how everything around me got warmer and more comfy. I did n't know what I was searching for when I started looking around. The books on the shelf were mainly philosophical books. Nothing interesting. His wardrobe on the other hand was exceptional. I never saw as many pieces of pricy clothing at once. He even had coats and weirder stuff like traditional African clothing. That was very weird. Why would he need those Pieces, and how came he to acquire them? I never thought he had enough money. 
 
 I found myself suddenly being very excited about this. I do n't know why, but little things like that make my imagination fly like an eagle. I remember how most of my friends called me a dreamer. Never disagreed on that part. The other parts of his wardrobe were, to my disappointment, pretty normal. Maybe he just liked to collect this stuff, 
 I told myself. Then I sat down at the work desk. 
 
 The desk was pretty empty, there was only one ballpoint pen and a few empty sheets of paper. I tried pulling out the drawer of the desk. Closed. I tried pulling again. Closed. 
 I started pulling with all my might. Tightly shut. There had to be a key. I started searching for it. Most people never cared about such things, but his wardrobe piqued my interest what more I could find, and now I was a wolf searching for his prey. 
 
 I do n't know how long I searched, but the sun was already way over the zenith when I found the key. It was hanging at the wall, right next to the desk. I'm an idiot. 
 The drawer opened slowly, probably was already frozen. Inside I found a journal, a book titled `` The Seven Points'', probably about Business Administration, and a letter. It was addressed to me. I teared it apart and started reading, anxious to see what was inside. Why was it addressed to me? Did he know I would come? What if I would n't even have found it? 
 
 `` Dear Grandson, 
 I hope you will read this letter as soon as possible. I feared you would n't find the one I put in my desks drawer, so I also gave one to my lawyer.'' I did find this one, I thought. Though I did n't quite understand why he would address a letter only to me, and why he would put so much effort in multiplying those, when he just could have sent it to my home. 
 
 `` Even though I may be not alive anymore when you read those lines, I just wanted to thank you for the time I had with you. It was great seeing you grow up and struggle through life. This time you gifted me, was time I never had with your mother. She probably still hates me for that. Sadly I found myself unable to apologise or explain. That's why I had to leave the family before our conflict would start to tear everyone apart.'' At this point, I already felt myself touched by the carefully selected words he used. My teacher in elementary school once called him a real gentleman. I kind of picked that up and started imitating him. 
 My mother always hated that part of me. 
 
 `` The reason why I wrote this letter is not only to thank you, my dear, but also to give you counsel.'' I already started rolling my eyes, that anyone else would have feared they would fall out of my eye sockets. I did n't need more advice. All my life my parents told me to start making money. My sister really picked up on that and worked as a manager at the company of my father. I did n't. You could call me the black sheep of the family. But I still was curios and continued reading. 
 
 `` I know you should probably pursue your job. Should probably start making money and start living the good life.'' Yup, that's wat they told me. `` But in lack of a better phrase; Fuck it.'' Now this was new to me, 
 I thought, Gramps rarely used such words. 
 
 `` You have to chase your dreams. You have to make your own decisions. My life was not that what you think it was. I never was an accountant clerk. That was a not so very well crafted lie of mine, because well, you know, I suck at maths.'' I chuckled. That was my old man. `` I also lived the live of a commoner, or normal person. When I was young I dreamed of adventure, but also did n't really put any effort into pursuing those dreams. But when my daughter was born, your mother, and the single good thing I did in my life, I needed money. At this time I was basically penniless and did n't have any work. Your mother was just so unexpected, and even if I loved your Grandma, I told her I had work to do.'' What did you work then, I asked him, even though I knew he could n't hear me. 
 
 `` I fled from my responsibility as a father, my biggest mistake, and started working overseas. I ca n't count what I did, just to not be at home. I worked on an oil rig, hunted elephants, and even worked for more shady organisations. All this while sending letters with money to my family, which never truly was mine. You can see already that I never worked in London as a clerk for my whole life. I lived my life all over the place. It was my gravest mistake leaving your mother, but my best decision to live the way I did.'' I felt many confusing feelings at the same time. Anger at his mistakes, confused about why he never told us, but then I realised, no one would have believed his stories. 
 
 `` But now I want to give you something, that I did n't give your mother. I want to give you a choice. In Alaska, in the very shack that I live, you'll find a journal which is completely empty and a book filled with useful Information like contacts of mine in the drawer of my desk. Furthermore you will find a suitcase under my bed with a purse in it, which should have a respectable sum of money in different currencies. Take what you need from my home, if you want to travel, if you want to live a life, that is adventurous. The choice is yours. 
 Love, 
 Gramps.'' 
 
 I felt a tear in my eye. It was n't the fact that I was a crybaby, but his honesty and his last gift touched me like nothing ever did before. I felt angry at him. My mother did n't deserve this. But the more I thought about it, the more sense it made. My Gramps probably was not the person to raise a child. And he tried to make that up with me. 
 
 Now I had a choice. I did n't need to be a manager. I could just realise what my dreams were made of. Far untouched landscapes before me. Not a computer desk. The fire I made already burned down like the sun outside and I started freezing when I made my decision. 
 
 I was at Ted Stevens Anchorage International Airport in Alaska when I called my Dad. 
 `` Son? When are you coming back? I have a job interview organised for you.'' He asked in his hounded tone that he always used. 
 `` Sorry Father. I wo n't come back to America.'' I told him reluctantly. My father was quite dominant. 
 `` What do you mean? You'll have to work when you want to live the good life!'' He said irritated. `` I'm doing a vacation. Sorry my flight to Singapore is about to start. I need to go. Say hi to mom from me.'' I said as fast as I could. `` Wait a sec-'' Click. I turned off my phone and started heading into the future. My name does n't matter, because we all have a choice. 
 
 
 
 

