My favourite constellation is Cygnus.

In case you don't know, Cygnus is the swan constellation. It's made up of nine main stars, and the actual term "cygnus" is the Latinized Greek word for swan. 

Up here on top of Oolah Hill, the place where our ancestors said "the sky meets the land," I like to watch Cygnus fly across the sky. You can only see him during the winter months, so sometimes, on nights like these, I sit up here shivering in the freezing cold, peering through my telescope to gaze at it's sparkling wings. 

My dad used to say that the ancient Greek people had the wildest imaginations. They turned simple star patterns into all manner of creatures - serpents, archers, centaurs and unicorns, you name it - the Greeks documented them in the form of constellations. He used to say that stars were the best example of what's on the inside counts; as Cygnus was only a cross in the sky, and they turned him into Zeus in swan form.

I imagine Cygnus as a majestic bird with billowing wings, with a perfectly orange beak, beady black eyes and impossibly white shiny feathers. If I close my eyes for just long enough, I can see him soaring across the night.

Cygnus was my dad's favourite constellation, too. He used to sit here with me, looking up at the millions of worlds we know so little about. 

That was six years ago.

My dad died of leukemia, back when I was nine years old. 

He was the one who bought me this telescope, my most treasured item. I still remember it vividly: he rode into town, borrowing the only car in the village, and asked me to wait on top of Oolah Hill with my mum and my grandma. I heard him coming up the hill, and telling me to close my eyes. When I opened them, there it was: a white, shiny-new telescope; the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. 

I yelped in delight and hugged him tight; and that night, he helped me set it up, and together we peered through the little hole into the universe. Sometimes, I like to believe that he's up there, riding Cygnus, watching over me.

The day I got my telescope, I thought my days were as infinite as the stars. I was wrong.

I should probably point out the elephant in the room.

I inherited lymphocytic leukemia from my father.

And I am going to die in 102 days.

Hello there :D

I was at dinner with a few friends, and on the TV they were showing this documentary about a girl in Iran who loved stargazing so much and every night she'd take her telescope up the hill and map the stars, so this story is inspired by her. I'm not sure what the documentary was actually called, but if you want to look for it I'm pretty sure it was on BBC.

Like most of my stories (unfortunately) I am a lousy updater but I will try and update when I can :)

Thanks for reading, and see you next time,

residenthobbit49 :) <3