Nearly fifty of us huddled together around our equipment: Scientists from different fields of study all gathered by the government for this historic event. We watched with equal parts anticipation and trepidation as the unnatural midday clouds obscured the sun over the large mountain clearing. Magnificent flashes of lightning provided the only illumination.
By the time our satellite images revealed the objects true shape, we could do little but wait for arrival. Not knowing their destination, a coalition of governments frantically partnered together, placing “greeting teams” in locations across the globe. It seems my location had been the correct guess.
A collective gasp sounded as the massive ship burst through the thick cloud cover which it had been causing (Something about exciting the atmospheric ions, according to one physicist). Wide-eyed, I stared at definitive proof that we are not alone in the universe.
Then, not unlike the spaceship from that Spielberg movie, the craft rumbled ear-shattering tones. Having anticipated this form of communication, we all turned to the towering monitor from our computer, waiting for the translation. My mind swirled as I imagined what our first contact message from the aliens would be. Did they come in peace or as conquerors?
And then, the monitor glowed bright with words.
“Sorry to bother you, but we seem to have lost our way. Can you point us in the direction of Alpha Centauri?”
[This is my entry into the Sunday Photo Fiction challenge, hosted by Alastair Forbes. Write a short story of 200 words or less from the photo prompt provided.]