Photo by Danie Franco on Unsplash
I have a story in my brain, nagging at me, wanting its words to be put to "paper." It's sitting there--the idea, the concept, several characters--but the overall reason that the main character does what she does still eludes me. So, the story (minus a few opening pages that I actually did write), stay tucked away.
I HAVE to have a reason for why a middle-aged woman with grown children decides she's done. She's fed up. She's had it with this world. So, she builds her own extraterrestrial communication device out of random junk, because if E.T. can do it from a Speak and Say, coat hanger, and an umbrella, then why the hell not? She's determined to send transmissions to space, to communicate with aliens, in hopes one of them will listen and come and beam her away from her messy life in a messy world with messy people. I want to write it. I keep saying I will. Yet, that's all I do...just saying I will. It could be fun. I know it could be, would be - humor and seriousness combined. I love the idea of aliens and outer space. I love the idea of a woman, such as myself, so fed up with a broken world that she is willing to reach out to any other being, on any other planet, risking the possibility of being probed, just for the hope of finding something better. Yes, it could be fun...aliens, transmissions, and possibilities. Hopefully, someday. Just Jot It January by Linda G. Hill. Today’s prompt, "transmission", was suggested by Dar.
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