Win a cash prize if you write the best finish to my story!

Image: Person pointing flashlight into the night sky. Text: Hello, Universe!--Win a cash prize if you write the best finish to my story!
Photo by Andreas Dress (unsplash.com/@andreasdress)
Photo of crocheted narwhal amigurumi, which is a prize for the contest, along with $25

This is my very first Finish-My-Story Contest. So I’m offering a cash prize of $25 plus this amigarumi collectible that I crocheted myself. (It’s a narwhal.)

September Contest: All submissions are due by midnight September 15, 2020. 

Look here for contest rules.

Hello, Universe!

Jess leaned back in the blue, plastic Adirondack chair on the back deck.  It was a kids chair and he had almost outgrown it.  But it was the only chair that allowed him to tilt his head back to look at the stars.

Tunes from the 1960s purred from the outdoor speaker.  His Mom kept the family speakers on a steady rotation of “decades” music going back seventy years.

They lived in the suburbs.  With light pollution, Jess knew he wasn’t even seeing half the stars up there.  But this summer, with all the bad news online, he found himself escaping to the quiet of the back deck and looking at the starry sky.

In school, he had read about the Civil War and the Holocaust and the Civil Rights Movement and a bunch of other depressing stuff.  And then his grandfather had died.  Jess and his grandfather were not close, but everyone went to the funeral and everyone cried.  Even Jess cried.

Sometime that summer, Jess realized everyone else in his family would die.  Not anytime soon.  Probably not, anyway.  But, eventually, his parents would grow old and die.  And, eventually, Jess would also grow old and die.  And if he ever had kids, they would grow old and die.  Someday, everyone Jess knew would be dead.

It sucked.

Staring up at the night sky made him feel small and a little scared.  It never used to before.  But when he was little, he didn’t know how much empty space was really up there.  And how tiny the Earth really was.

Last week and the week before he had stared up at the stars.

Maybe, he had thought, it would be OK to die as long as I’m remembered.  Maybe I could get famous like Elvis or Beyonce.  So famous that no one would ever forget me.

Jess had thought about that for a couple of weeks.  He would have to be really famous to be remembered in two million years.  Like Hitler famous.  And he didn’t want to be evil.  He remembered seeing photos of the gas chambers and shuddered.

In two million years, the wind might even wear down the Great Pyramids and the even the pharaohs of Egypt would be forgotten.

Words floated from the speaker on the dark, night air.

Words are flowing out like

Endless rain into a paper cup

They slither wildly as they slip away across the universe

It was “Across the Universe” by the Beatles.  His Dad loved the Beatles.  All of the Beatles were dead.

Pools of sorrow, waves of joy

Are drifting through my opened mind

And that’s when the idea struck Jess.  He rummaged through the junk drawer and found a penlight.  He sat back in the kid-size Adirondack and shone the light into the sky.

Dad was an engineer and he knew lots of science.  He said light beams were made of photons.  In space, photons just keep traveling forever–travel at the speed of light, Dad said–unless they hit something. Like a planet or a star.

Jess sent the weak beam of light into space.  He clicked the light on and off.  If he knew Morse Code, he could send a message on a stream of photons into space.  And if that beam never ran into a star or a planet, it would travel forever.  Unlike the pyramids, it would never be worn down by wind or time.

The next day Jess bought a brand new flashlight–the most powerful one he could afford at the big box hardware store.  That night on the deck, he sent coded messages into space.  He looked up Morse code on his phone and shot off the messages in different directions into the sky.

Hi

I am here

My name is Jess

Im alive

I dont want to die

Never forget me

 . . .

Halfway through high school, Jess had learned enough about lasers to build his own high-powered laser from a kit.  He even got his Dad to help mount it on the roof.  Mom thought he was crazy, but Dad was into science stuff and thought it was a cool project.

Jess studied star charts and learned how to aim his laser using the computer in his room.  He sent coded messages into the night sky almost every night.  He aimed the laser into the empty stretches between stars, nebulae, and galaxies to give his messages the best chance of flying forever through space.

No human would ever see them.  Racing at the speed of light away from the Earth, no human could ever catch up with them to capture the light and decode it.

And what alien would ever know how to decode Morse code?  Or care to try?

But Jess knew that his coded messages racing through space would last longer than even the Earth itself.  Eventually, the sun would supernova and the Earth and the Moon and every human landmark in the Solar System would be absorbed, melted, obliterated.  But Jess’s small, silent, staggered rays of light would live on.

Forever.

. . .

In college, he studied engineering and physics, trying to decide which way to go.  Both were incredibly tough.  Jess had programmed the computer in his bedroom at home to aim the roof-mounted laser at the emptiest reaches of space.  He had saved hundreds of different coded messages and each night, his computer sent the messages into space.

He was so busy at school, he forgot about the laser most of the time.  And, miracle of miracles, he finally had a girlfriend!

But when he came home on breaks, he checked the laser on the roof.  He cleared the dead leaves away, wiped the lens, applied another coat of water proofing.  He checked his sky maps and scheduled some new programs to run when he was away.  At night, sitting on the deck, he thought up new messages to send.

Hi

I am Jess

This message will outlast everyone

The pharaohs

The presidents

Taylor Swift

BTS

Remember me

Jess was not trying to reach anyone out there.  He never thought to try to look for replies to his messages.  Besides, detecting a laser reply from space would be quite a trick.  That would take more physics, engineering and money than he had.

So it was merely by luck that he was sitting on the back deck after graduation, drinking a beer and peering up into the sky, that he saw it. (This final paragraph is optional for your story ending.)

 . . . .

Submit your story ending

I can’t wait to see your story endings! Don’t forget to read the contest rules.

Please post your story endings below.

Be stellar!

Matthew Cross

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10 Comments

  1. A single star blinked a rhythm of dots and dashes, over and over, like ocean waves. Jess’s beer crashed on the deck, spilling between the planks. He scrambled for his phone and recorded a video, pointing to the heavens, and muttering the words that flickered in clumsy Morse.

    _Hi Jess_

    _Its grandpa_

    _Dont worry_

    _Everything will be alright_

    Jess staggered backwards and flipped his camera. He garbled something about his grandfather’s funeral and uploaded it to the web.

    Twenty likes.

    Fifty likes.

    Three hundred.

    Eight thousand.

    Within ten minutes, more than a million views ticked across the screen.

    Was this really happening?

    All he could think about were the lyrics to that Beatles song, stuck on repeat.

    _Images of broken light_
    _Which dance before me like a million eyes_
    _They call me on and on across the universe_

    His phone shuddered. Unknown number.

    _Jai Guru Deva, Om_
    _Nothing’s gonna change my world_
    _Nothing’s gonna change my…_

    “Hello?”

    “Hello, is this Jess Dawson?” A voice sharp as gravel crunched down the earpiece.

    “Who are you?”

    “Name’s Grant Knox, FBI. We’re sending a chopper for you.”

    In the distance, a low rumble carried across the sky. Jess shook his head. “A chopper? Why?”

    “For your protection, Jess. We saw your video. Half the world’s seen it by now. You’ve no idea how long we’ve been trying to make contact.”

    “Contact? With who?”

    “You’d best pack some things. We need to get you secure.”

    “What are you talking about?”

    “You’re about to go down in history, Jess. People will be talking about this forever.”

    “About what?” Jess looked at the sky. The flashing dots.

    _Dont worry_

    _Everything will be alright_

    • Frasier,
      Thanks so much for entering my writing contest!
      I received 3 posts from you. They all appear to be the same. But I want to make sure. Perhaps you were having trouble posting your story ending on my site. If so, please let me know. I want it to be fun and easy to participate.
      I’ll announce the winner on my blog and on Twitter by the end of the September.
      Be stellar!
      Matthew
      P.S. If you had any technical difficulties at all, or any speed issues, please send me an e-mail (matthewcrosswrites@gmail.com) or a DM on Twitter @mattcrosswrites and let me know! Thanks! Matthew

  2. A single star blinked a rhythm of dots and dashes, over and over, like ocean waves. Jess’s beer crashed on the deck, spilling between the planks. He scrambled for his phone and recorded a video, pointing to the heavens, and muttering the words that flickered in clumsy Morse.

    _Hi Jess_

    _Its grandpa_

    _Dont worry_

    _Everything will be alright_

    Jess staggered backwards and flipped his camera. He garbled something about his grandfather’s funeral and uploaded it to the web.

    Twenty likes.

    Fifty likes.

    Three hundred.

    Eight thousand.

    Within ten minutes, more than a million views ticked across the screen.

    Was this really happening?

    All he could think about were the lyrics to that Beatles song, stuck on repeat.

    _Images of broken light_
    _Which dance before me like a million eyes_
    _They call me on and on across the universe_

    His phone shuddered. Unknown number.

    _Jai Guru Deva, Om_
    _Nothing’s gonna change my world_
    _Nothing’s gonna change my…_

    “Hello?”

    “Hello, is this Jess Dawson?” A voice sharp as gravel crunched down the earpiece.

    “Who are you?”

    “Name’s Grant Knox, FBI. We’re sending a chopper for you.”

    In the distance, a low rumble carried across the sky. Jess shook his head. “A chopper? Why?”

    “For your protection, Jess. We saw your video. Half the world’s seen it by now. You’ve no idea how long we’ve been trying to make contact.”

    “Contact? With who?”

    “You’d best pack some things. We need to get you secure.”

    “What are you talking about?”

    “You’re about to go down in history, Jess. People will be talking about this forever.”

    “About what?” Jess looked at the sky. The flashing dots.

    _Dont worry_

    _Everything will be alright_

    (End)

  3. At first, he thought it was a firefly, glowing in the dark above him.

    But this burning object was growing.

    As if on cue, the crickets hushed and the wind held its breath.

    Jess’s eyes filled with a burning glow, reflecting the pending doom racing towards him.

    He should have scrambled for cover, screaming for his life; his safety.

    But he didn’t.

    The scorching rock arrested any thoughts to flee. You won’t escape me, it taunted through Jess’s mind.

    Even as the heat evaporated the tears and sweat from his face, Jess had a final thought…

    Graduate killed my comet… This is sure to hit global press…

    Everyone will remember me.

    • Emae,
      Thanks so much for your contest submission!
      I’ll announce the winner on my blog and on Twitter by the end of September.
      Be stellar!
      Matthew
      P.S. If you had any technical difficulties at all, or any speed issues, please send me an e-mail (matthewcrosswrites@gmail.com) or a DM on Twitter @mattcrosswrites and let me know! Thanks! Matthew

  4. So it was merely by luck that he was sitting on the back deck after graduation, drinking a beer and peering up into the sky, that he saw it.

    A light blinked back at him. Jess froze. He closed his eyes tight and then opened them slowly. He wasn’t a big beer drinker – or any kind of drinker, really – and so he wondered if he was imagining things. The lights blinked again. Three short bursts. Jess leaped out of his chair to find his phone. Where is it? He has got to record this. He pushes everything off the patio table. Nothing. Pats his pockets. Empty. The lights blink again. He panics. He wants to ask his roommate for help but can’t. He is already considered bit of an outcast on campus and blinking alien lights isn’t going to help.

    Jess gives up on his phone, grabs a pen from his backpack and holds it above a soiled beer coaster. He leans all the way forward so as not to miss the order of the lights – or the coaster. He waits. Nothing. He waits some more. Nothing. The pen shakes in his hand. He bends over further, his nose practically touching the screen. “WTF?” he exclaims out loud. “Come ON!” Nothing. “BLINK!!” After 15 minutes that feel like 94, Jess throws the pen so it slides off the table and he sits up. “EFF!,” he says. “Just EFF.” Jess is just about to close the screen when the lights flash again. This time three long blinks.

    “WOAH!!” Just what IS this? Jess thinks to himself. He knows first hand that hacking is a thing in college. And while intercepting laser light communications may not be the most popular activity for students – finding sexy selfies wins that prize, obviously – that fact is, he is in a science program and perhaps someone is having a laugh at his expense. Maybe he is being live-streamed right now and people are crushing him with comments. Or worse. He’s a meme. And he’s gone viral. Or maybe it’s nothing. A reflection. Or a nerd like him in another country, on another continent, also trying to “reach out.”

    It all sounds so stupid. Maybe it is.

    He sighs and turns off his screen. Dejected, Jess heads back into his flat, sipping his half-empty warm beer. He enters the livingroom and says goodnight to his flatmate who doesn’t look up from his ipad. Jess heads down the hall into his room and closes the door quietly behind him. He slips into bed fully dressed, wondering what in the world happened, if anything at all.

    On the patio, the lights blink again. Three. Short. Spurts.

    [Money to charity, stuffy to moi, if I am lucky enough to win! – twitter handle @avachisling]

    • Ava,
      Thanks so much for your entry into the writing contest. I’ll announce the winner on my blog and on Twitter by the end of September.
      If you win, you can do whatever you want with the prizes. Charity sounds great!
      Thanks for sharing the Twitter handle. You’ll probably get a quick hello from me on Twitter.
      Be stellar!
      Matthew
      P.S. If you had any technical difficulties at all, or any speed issues, please send me an e-mail (matthewcrosswrites@gmail.com) or a DM on Twitter @mattcrosswrites and let me know! Thanks! Matthew

  5. Ellen Jordis Lewis

    This is so much fun! I love your writing and your crocheting. Thanks for the opportunity!

    Without thinking, he formed the letters in his mind. UFO. Then translated them into Morse: ..- ..-. —. He could not identify the shape; no saucer or cigar was this. Nor did it seem to move with a will. It wafted. A breeze took it this way, then that. It behaved almost like a piece of newsprint that had been cast away that morning. Jess stumbled up, the bottle of Blue Moon beer spilling at his feet, splashing onto his Converse sneakers and foaming down the cedar decking. The bottle rolled down into the lawn, which was already overgrown with the exuberance of early summer. The thing floated down, then up, then away. Jess pounded his wet feet down the stairs and into the grass, where he flew through the air and landed hands-first on the bottle, which broke, lacerating his hands. Wiping blood on his jeans as he went, Jess lumbered to the street and searched the sky. Nothing. But a scratching sound drew him. He ran toward it, and saw: a piece of paper, rolled at the edges, skittering down the street.
    Written in words — English, modern words — on something that could have been actual paper, was this:
    LOL, this whole time we thought your name was Jesus!
    The signature was a smiley-face emoji.

    • Ellen, thanks so much for your entry! I’m so glad you are having fun, and I’ve had a lot of fun putting this together over the last month. I’m really enjoying the stories rolling in. Some funny, some quirky, some really heart-warming. This story collaboration is so fun! I had no idea the places great writers could take this story.
      I’ll announce the winner on my blog and on Twitter by the end of September.
      Be stellar!
      Matthew
      P.S. If you had any technical difficulties at all, or any speed issues, please send me an e-mail (matthewcrosswrites@gmail.com) or a DM on Twitter @mattcrosswrites and let me know! Thanks! Matthew

  6. So, it was merely by luck that he was sitting on the back deck after graduation, drinking a beer and peering up into the sky, when he saw it. A pale white dot in the blackness that turned out to be much closer than it initially appeared. A moment later, it hovered right in front of him, a glowing sphere about the size of a softball. Jess dropped his beer in surprise as the ball orbited around him, turning his head to follow its trajectory.

    “Hold still while we scan you!” commanded a voice in his head. Instinctively, he froze and held still as the orb circled his body several times. “Now think a happy thought!” Jess remembered the smell and taste of the warm apple pies that his mom used to bake. “Now think a sad thought!” In spite of himself, his mom’s passing and her funeral caused tears to well up in his eyes. He tried to ask a question, but discovered that he couldn’t move his lips. “What do you fear most?” He pictured himself dying—his biggest fear of all, of course. The glowing ball shot upwards and receded from sight, leaving Jess alone on the deck again. He shook his head, thinking that he must have dozed off. He leaned down to pick up his fallen beer and went into the house to get another one.

    ============================

    After clearing the atmosphere, the probe jumped home to Tau Ceti where the scans it had collected were analyzed.

    “Looks like we have a winner here,” said Krexx.

    Jaylee nodded. “Their needs are simple and their primitive brains are easily controlled.”

    Krexx opened a comlink to their sector chief and her holographic image appeared before them. “We’ve got nearly eight billion air-breathers, Mum. They’re a ninety-eight percent match to our optimum profile.”

    “Ninety-eight percent? That’s some prime stock, you know.” She grinned, “At a thousand credits a head, I don’t need to tell you what that means for us.”

    Krexx returned the grin. “Just remember whose idea it was to check out the source of those light bursts.”

    “Don’t worry, Krexx, you’ll get your usual bounty.” With a final wave, she cut the connection.

    Jaylee opened a link to their Chief of Collections. “Hi there, Jemal. We’ve got a new job for your team. I’m sending you the co-ordinates now.” He smiled, “There’s nearly eight billion of them, so make sure that you take enough arks.”

    “Got it!” replied Jemal. “I’ll let you know when we’ve finished collecting them.” He dropped the call.

    “Pay up, Krexx,” said Jaylee. “I told you that those laser bursts meant something.”

    “That you did,” said Krexx, as he handed over a ten-credit note. “That you did.”

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