✨ MESSAGE FROM THE STARS ✨
I'm really excited (and a little nervous) to finally share something I've been working on for quite a while: MESSAGE FROM THE STARS, my original animated sci-fi series.
The story follows Abigail Reed, a fifteen-year-old girl whose ordinary life is turned upside down after meeting Starlet, a mysterious guide from the constellation of Starfall. Together, they'll uncover forgotten worlds, ancient secrets, and face a growing threat that could change the fate of the universe.
I just finished writing the pilot episode, and I'd genuinely love to hear what you think!
⭐ If you read it, please leave a comment and rate it. Your feedback—whether it's about the story, characters, dialogue, pacing, or anything else—means a lot to me and will help make the series even better.
🌌 Let me know if you'd like to see Episode 2! Your support and encouragement motivate me to keep creating and sharing this world with all of you.
Thank you so much for taking the time to read my work. I hope you enjoy MESSAGE FROM THE STARS as much as I've enjoyed creating it.
See you among the stars. ✨🚀
MESSAGE FROM THE STARS DIRECTED BY: R. JUNIOR EPISODE I | SEASON I — "FIRST CONTACT"
IMAGES OF EARTH. AN ORDINARY CITY. AN ORDINARY SCHOOL. AN ORDINARY DAY.
BUT THE CAMERA DOESN'T SHOW WHAT'S PRETTY. IT SHOWS WHAT'S EXHAUSTING.
THE CROWDED BUS. THE CAFETERIA LINE. THE NOISY HALLWAY THAT SEEMS TO MAKE THE WALLS CLOSE IN.
ABIGAIL'S VOICE NARRATES OVER IT. TIRED. NOT FROM SLEEP — FROM EXISTING.
ABIGAIL (V.O.): My name is Abigail Reed. I'm 15 years old. And every morning, before I get out of bed, I have to convince myself that the day will be bearable.
ABIGAIL (V.O.): Sometimes it works.
SHE APPEARS SITTING IN THE BACK OF THE CLASSROOM. NOT LOOKING OUT THE WINDOW WITH ROMANTICISM. LOOKING BECAUSE IT'S THE ONLY PLACE WHERE NO ONE IS LOOKING BACK.
ABIGAIL (V.O.): I live in a city no one knows, on a street no one remembers, in a house that looks like all the others. And I… look like everyone else. On the outside.
THE TEACHER TALKS AT THE BOARD. SHE DOESN'T LISTEN. NOT BECAUSE SHE'S DISTRACTED — BECAUSE HER HEART IS BEATING TOO FAST. THE PEN IN HER HAND TREMBLES SLIGHTLY. SHE SQUEEZES IT UNTIL IT STOPS.
ABIGAIL (V.O.): On the inside it's different. On the inside it's like the whole world is happening too fast and I'm the only one who can't keep up.
SHE LOOKS AT HER HANDS. BREATHES DEEP. COUNTS TO FOUR. A TECHNIQUE THE PSYCHOLOGIST TAUGHT HER LAST YEAR. THE PSYCHOLOGIST HER MOTHER CAN NO LONGER AFFORD.
ABIGAIL (V.O.): My mom says I think too much. My dad used to say the same thing before he left. I used to think it was a flaw for a long time.
ABIGAIL (V.O.): I still do, sometimes.
RECESS. FULL YARD. NOISE EVERYWHERE.
ABIGAIL FINDS A CORNER. SHE ALWAYS FINDS A CORNER. IT'S A SKILL SHE DEVELOPED WITHOUT REALIZING — MAPPING EVERY ENVIRONMENT IN SEARCH OF THE PLACE WITH FEWER PEOPLE, LESS NOISE, FEWER CHANCES OF SOMEONE ASKING WHY SHE'S SO QUIET.
SHE OPENS HER NOTEBOOK. STARTS DRAWING.
STARS. PLANETS. SHAPES SHE CAN'T NAME BUT THAT FLOW FROM THE PEN AS IF THEY ALREADY EXISTED BEFORE BEING DRAWN.
A CLASSMATE PASSES BY. STOPS. LOOKS OVER HER SHOULDER UNINVITED.
ABIGAIL CLOSES THE NOTEBOOK ON REFLEX. HER HEART RACES. NOT BECAUSE THE CLASSMATE IS THREATENING — BUT BECAUSE ANYTHING UNEXPECTED DOES THIS TO HER.
CLASSMATE: Looks like a videogame map.
ABIGAIL: It's just a drawing.
THE CLASSMATE SHRUGS AND WALKS AWAY. WITHOUT MALICE. WITHOUT INTEREST.
AND THAT, IN SOME STRANGE WAY, HURTS MORE.
ABIGAIL STARES AT THE CLOSED NOTEBOOK FOR A LONG SECOND.
CONTINUES DRAWING. BECAUSE IT'S THE ONLY THING THAT MAKES HER HEART SLOW DOWN.
THE SCHOOL GATE CLOSES BEHIND HER. SHE WALKS TO THE MAIN STREET. SHE WALKS IN THE TWILIGHT, THE CONVERSATIONS AROUND HER FADE NATURALLY AND THE NOISE OF HER OWN THOUGHTS SEEMS TO PERSIST IN NATURAL FORM.
She walks through the shortcut. The less busy street. Headphones on. Music at the exact volume that drowns out the world without suffocating completely.
Today was a hard day. Nothing terrible happened — and that's what she can never explain to anyone. Nothing needs to happen. The weight shows up on its own. Sits on her chest and stays.
She takes off her headphones.
It's not music. It's not a car. It's not anything she recognizes. It's a frequency. Something pulsing in the air like a second heartbeat.
The sound comes from an empty lot nearby. Tall grass. An abandoned area she passes every day without looking.
For a second, the weight on her chest disappears. And in its place is something different. It's not exactly relief. It's curiosity. She barely remembers what that feels like anymore.
ABIGAIL: (to herself) No. I'm NOT going in there.
ABIGAIL: (quieter, almost resigned) I ALWAYS go in.
THE WEEDS ARE TALL. SHE PUSHES THE BRANCHES ASIDE CAREFULLY. THE BRANCHES SCRATCH HER ARM. SHE DOESN'T COMPLAIN. THE SOUND GETS LOUDER. CLEARER. IT HAS A STRANGE QUALITY — IT'S NOT SCARY. IT'S ALMOST LIKE BEING CALLED BY NAME, BUT WITHOUT WORDS.
SHE REACHES THE MIDDLE OF THE LOT. AND SEES.
A SMALL LIGHT ON THE GROUND. PULSING. BLUE AND WHITE. LIKE A STAR THAT FELL AND STAYED THERE WAITING FOR THE RIGHT PERSON TO APPEAR.
ABIGAIL STANDS STILL FOR A MOMENT. SHE SHOULD BE AFRAID. ON OTHER DAYS SHE WOULD HAVE BEEN — ANXIETY TURNS UNKNOWN THINGS INTO THREATS BEFORE SHE EVEN THINKS. BUT NOW, LOOKING AT THAT LIGHT, SHE FEELS THE OPPOSITE. SHE FEELS LIKE SHE RECOGNIZES IT.
ABIGAIL: (whisper) What is this?
SHE LOWERS HERSELF SLOWLY. REACHES OUT HER HAND CAREFULLY. THE LIGHT PULSES STRONGER AS SHE APPROACHES — AS IF RESPONDING. SHE TOUCHES IT.
ABIGAIL: Seriously? I thought it was going to explode or something.
UNKNOWN VOICE: It almost did. Three hours ago.
ABIGAIL JUMPS. HER HEART GOES TO ZERO AND THEN RACES IN A SECOND. SHE TURNS SO FAST SHE TRIPS OVER HER OWN FOOT AND ALMOST FALLS.
LEANING AGAINST A TREE — AS IF HE'D BEEN THERE FOR HOURS, MAYBE DAYS — A BEING. HE LOOKS HUMAN BUT HE'S NOT. TOO TALL. EYES TOO BIG, OF A COLOR THAT DOESN'T EXIST IN ANY SPECTRUM SHE KNOWS. A UNIFORM THAT BELONGS TO NO COUNTRY, NO ERA. WHITE HAIR. AN EXPRESSION OF SOMEONE WHO WAITED LONG ENOUGH TO NO LONGER BE IN A HURRY.
HE LOOKS AT HER WITHOUT MOVING. WITHOUT THREAT. WITHOUT URGENCY. AS IF SHE WERE EXACTLY WHAT HE EXPECTED TO FIND.
STARLET: You took long enough. I expected you to show up earlier.
ABIGAIL: (voice breaking in fright) Who are you?
STARLET: Easy. If I wanted to hurt you, I would have done it while you stood there staring at the rock for two minutes.
ABIGAIL: That's not comforting!
STARLET: (light sigh) No. But it's true.
ABIGAIL'S HEART STILL RACES. SHE COUNTS MENTALLY. ONE. TWO. THREE. FOUR.
THE STRANGENESS OF THE SITUATION IS SO COMPLETE THAT, IN A WAY, IT SIMPLIFIES EVERYTHING. THERE'S NO SOCIAL CONTEXT TO CALCULATE ANYMORE. NO EXPECTATION TO FALL SHORT OF. IT'S JUST HER, A LIGHT ON THE GROUND, AND A BEING WITH IMPOSSIBLE EYES LEANING AGAINST A TREE.
IN SOME DISTURBING WAY, IT'S THE CALMEST MOMENT OF HER DAY.
ABIGAIL STILL A FEW STEPS AWAY. STARLET DOESN'T MOVE — AS IF HE UNDERSTANDS SHE NEEDS SPACE TO DECIDE HOW CLOSE SHE'LL GET.
STARLET: The most common question there is. (pause) I'm Starlet. A Starfall Guide. And you are Abigail Reed. 15 years old. Earth. Small city. School that drains you every day even when nothing goes wrong.
SHE DOESN'T RESPOND IMMEDIATELY.
BECAUSE HE GOT RIGHT THE PART SHE NEVER KNEW HOW TO EXPLAIN.
ABIGAIL: How do you know my name?
STARLET: Because I came for you. Specifically you.
STARLET FINALLY PUSHES OFF THE TREE. WALKS TOWARD THE LIGHT ON THE GROUND WITH SLOW, DELIBERATE STEPS. HE BENDS DOWN. PICKS UP THE LIGHT WITH A NATURALNESS THAT SUGGESTS HE'S DONE THIS BEFORE — THE LIGHT STOPS PULSING, LIKE AN ANIMAL CALMING DOWN.
STARLET: This is a fragment of Oriath. A planet that existed before your grandmother was BORN. It fell here three hours ago. And do you know why it fell exactly here?
STARLET: Because it was drawn to you.
The wind moves through the weeds. Somewhere far away, a car passes.
ABIGAIL: (small voice) I'm an ordinary teenager.
STARLET looks at her for a long moment. Not with pity. Not with judgment. With something that seems close to recognition.
STARLET: No. You never were.
She swallows hard. Not because she's afraid — but because part of her, the part that spent years believing being invisible was the only way to survive, doesn't know what to do when someone looks straight at her and says otherwise.
ABIGAIL: (quietly, almost to herself) That's a lot for a Thursday.
STARLET: (and for the first time something in his face softens) It'll get worse before it gets better.
ABIGAIL: (pause) At least you're honest.
They sit on the ground of the lot. Starlet explains.
Abigail listens with her notebook open on her lap. She doesn't draw — just holds it. As if she needs something in her hands to stay grounded.
STARLET: There is a being called Orion. He wants to destroy all forms of life in the universe and rewrite everything from scratch.
STARLET: We need someone to help stop him.
ABIGAIL: And that someone is me.
ABIGAIL: Me. Abigail Reed. From Earth.
ABIGAIL: Who has never fought in her life. Who fails PE. Who sometimes can't go into the supermarket when it's too crowded.
A pause. She didn't plan to say that last part. It slipped out.
STARLET: (without minimizing, without laughing) That is… a challenge. But yes. You.
ABIGAIL: Why me? The universe is huge. Billions of planets. Surely there's someone more prepared. Braver. More… functional.
The word comes out with a weight that goes beyond the conversation.
STARLET looks at her. Not with a ready-made answer from someone trained to motivate. With something closer to truth.
STARLET: Have you ever wondered where those drawings come from?
She looks at her notebook.
STARLET: Stars that don't exist on Earth's maps. Planets no human telescope has ever seen. Constellations from places billions of light-years away.
She doesn't answer. Because she's always wondered. Always been afraid of the answer.
STARLET: You always knew there was something beyond. You just didn't know the name. And when the world around you got too small, too noisy, too heavy… you drew a way out.
Something tightens in her throat.
ABIGAIL: (very quietly) And what's the name?
STARLET: The universe. The real one. Not the little piece Earth knows.
She looks up at the sky. It's already night without her noticing. The stars appear one by one — the same ones from her drawings. The same ones she never knew how to name.
FOR A SECOND HER CHEST RELAXES. THE WEIGHT DOESN'T DISAPPEAR. BUT IT RELAXES.
ABIGAIL: (long sigh that carries the entire day) My mom's going to worry if I get home late.
STARLET: (confused) Your mother is going to… kill you?
ABIGAIL: (lightly, almost smiling) It's a figure of speech. (stands, slowly) Okay. Tell me the rest. But while I walk home. I process better in motion.
STARLET: (stands too) You accept it like that? Without more resistance?
ABIGAIL: (starts walking) I have a million questions. (pause) But honestly? It's been weeks since I felt like this.
She thinks. Looks at the ground. At the notebook in her hand. At the sky.
ABIGAIL: Like I want to know what comes next.
Starlet stands still for a second.
For the first time since he arrived on Earth, something in his face changes. It's not exactly a smile. It's what comes before — the certainty that it was worth the wait.
They walk down the street. A being from another planet and a teenager who still doesn't know what she is.
ABIGAIL: So you came from Starfall.
ABIGAIL: Which is a planet?
STARLET: A constellation. With several worlds.
ABIGAIL: And you're the Guide. What does a Guide do?
STARLET: Guides. Protects. Observes.
Starlet doesn't answer immediately. She doesn't fill the silence — she learned that silence doesn't always need to be filled.
ABIGAIL: (glances at him sideways) How long have you been doing this?
STARLET: Longer than Earth has existed.
She processes it. Not with shock — with something close to compassion.
ABIGAIL: This Orion. Is he really that dangerous?
STARLET: Abigail. He destroyed half of Oriath trying to save his people. With love. With desperation. Imagine what he does when he's not trying to save anyone.
Thinks about desperation. Thinks about doing wrong things for reasons that seemed right.
Thinks about how much she herself has hurt trying not to bother anyone.
She doesn't say any of this.
ABIGAIL: Last question for today.
ABIGAIL: Will you stay on Earth or disappear when I walk through the door?
STARLET: I'll stay. Until you're ready.
ABIGAIL: Where will you sleep?
STARLET: (long pause) I… hadn't thought of that.
ABIGAIL: (deep sigh — not of irritation, of something closer to weary tenderness) You crossed the universe to find me and didn't plan where to sleep.
STARLET: It's not something I usually need.
ABIGAIL: (walking again) I'll see what I can do. But if my mom asks, you're a friend from school.
STARLET: I clearly am not human.
ABIGAIL: She doesn't wear glasses and hates to admit it. (pause) It'll work.
Abigail's house. Small. Light on in the living room. The kind of house that carries tiredness in its walls but also warmth — because one person worked very hard to keep it standing.
Abigail stops in front of the door.
ABIGAIL: Wait out here. I'll be right back.
She doesn't go in yet. Stays on the threshold for a second — the space between what was and what will be.
ABIGAIL: (quietly, without turning around) Why me? For real. Not the pretty answer. The real one.
Starlet thinks before answering.
STARLET: Because you've carried weight long enough to know it doesn't disappear. And despite that… you still search.
Starlet stays outside. Looks up at the sky. The stars of Starfall are there. Too far to reach. Close enough to remember.
He looks at the closed door.
STARLET: (to himself, almost soundless) She'll need a lot of time. (pause) But she'll get there.
And for the first time since he left Starfall —
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