For as long as Ym'e could remember, she had been watching over the human world. She didn't know why from all the lifeforms, the pink blobs had caught her attention had won, but she felt a certain kind of affection for them.
Maybe even a bit of jealousy.
From what she had observed over the centuries, humans were a strange species. They wore colourful fabrics around their naked bodies to distinguish themselves from the rest since underneath the fabrics they all looked the same anyway. They seemed to confuse other species with their own and would take them into their funny houses and care for them together with their own kin. They drank absurd amounts of a black substance that got them into overdrive and then consumed other liquids that put them to sleep, but they seemed to like it.
If the sky grew dark, it made the silly humans sleepy. They would open their mouths, stretch their arms, and wrap themselves in fluffy bedding.
From what Ym'e had seen, they weren't very careful with their light. They seemed to quarrel a lot with each other and poked each other with sticks and threw fire at each other. In the beginning, Ym'e thought that when they got hit, they pretended to fall asleep, but she quickly realised they were quite a self-destructive race.
They seduced each other's mates, they lied about their intentions, they took each other's property and stole the lights of their fellow men.
But that wasn't why Ym'e was so intrigued by them.
Apart from all the fighting and dishonesty, there was something else they did. Something that reminded her of the family she once had and that was quite unlike any other lifeform.
They loved.
Or at least, they tried. If they liked another individual, they made funny noises and moved their bodies in what Ym'e could only assume was a mating dance. They would hold hands with each other, even if that made daily life harder, just to feel close to their partner.
They were resilient beyond any species she had ever seen. The humans could feel pain and sadness. When they were hurt, water would fall from their eyes and the other humans would gather around to ease their pains by pressing their bodies against each other.
They called it hugging.
And apparently, that made them feel better. Because after they shed enough water, they picked themselves up and without any hesitation and they tried the same things over and over again until it worked. Until they found a mate that loved them and that wanted to be loved by them.
Overall, they were very physical beings. They fought, they hit, they stomped, they jumped, they killed. But they also hugged, they kissed, they cuddled, they touched, they teased, they pleased.
And Ym'e couldn't help but wonder how it would feel. How it would feel to feel.
After all, she was just one lonely being, abandoned by the rest of her kin. What a bad luck that we were unevenly numbered, she thought, as she directed her gaze to the rest of her family.
They were Ythereann, light-beings, and when the universe came to be, they were tasked with illuminating the multiple galaxies. And with their light strongest when they mated, they all paired up so they could cosily travel in their two-man pod. They had scattered throughout the universe on an endless adventure.
The humans had a beautiful word for it. Stars.
Her family had turned into the many stars that decorated the otherwise dark universe. Once in a while, one of them fizzled out, but most of the pods were still happily vibrating and shining. Ym’e had no doubt that inside their little cocoons they were still enjoying each other's company like they had done since the beginning of time.
But not Ym'e. As the youngest of her kind and the unlucky odd number out, she had remained alone. She looked down at herself and sighed as she knew that without a mate, she could never share her light. She would never merge like the rest of her family did. Ym'e whimpered softly as she reminisced about her family, wondering why she even bothered. There was no one like her left. She should just accept that she'd be alone for the rest of her existence.
But then she glanced down at the blue planet again, watching how the humanlings were running around and playing together, and she felt a slight twang of nostalgia shoot through her being.
If only she could just talk to them. Maybe even befriend them. She didn't need many of them, just one. One little human that could communicate with her, could joke with her, could make her feel less alone...
Just one.
She took in a deep breath and gathered all her light, focussing it into a single beam and projecting it down onto earth, as she had done so many times before.
Ym'e bitterly smiled as she vividly remembered the first time she had tried to contact the humans. When she had first descended onto earth, she had been so enthusiastic and happy. She would finally be able to talk to a lifeform.
She waved and chattered away, introducing herself politely, but the humans didn't listen. First, she thought they were afraid. But it quickly dawned on her that they just didn't notice her. Their senses weren't made to pick up her presence and she could do nothing but float around. She was from another dimension; one they couldn't grasp.
She had silently returned to her home and had hidden herself as she watched over the plane, like a silent guardian. Under her watchful eye, the humans evolved quickly and drastically.
They went from a small tribe to a massive population. From rocks and sticks to giant metallic objects. From endless wars to relative peace. From warm and caring beings to lonely, depressed shells.
And yet, even in their darkest times, they reached out to one another. It was why Ym'e was so fascinated by them. They didn't back down, they never gave in, they never bowed down, they never gave up. It was almost inspiring.
So when she saw the humans try so hard for that one connection, she formed a resolve. She would try again to communicate with them. But this time, she would send a message in something they did understand.
Light.
She bundled up her will into rays and projected them down on earth. A certain combination of different vibrations and colours. A dance of blue, purple, green, yellow, red. Any colour she could come up with. An invitation to her world, a request for companionship, an expression of good will.
Ym'e was overjoyed when it became clear that the humans saw it. She did a little dance even. Her lonely existence was over! The humans saw her light and gathered around as they admired it. They stared and they pointed, they marvelled and they wondered. And then nothing happened.
She kept her light shimmering over the globe, hoping that one of them would react, but none of them did.
Didn't they want to? Weren't they curious?
That couldn't have been it. She saw the humans; they were the most curious beings she had ever encountered. They couldn't keep their noses out of anything.
Were they afraid?
It didn't seem like it... They kept gathering underneath her light, admiring it from the surface of their planet.
So why didn't they respond? Why didn't they answer? Why was she still alone?
It took Ym'e a long time before she realised they simply didn't understand her message. But that didn't mean she had to give up hope. The humans were crafty. They were smart. They were inventive. They would understand. They just needed some time.
And so Ym'e waited. Waited for one of them to understand, for them to react, for them to answer.
But her energy wasn't limitless and she was wasting valuable life resources on her message. So as the centuries went by, her light grew dimmer and she decided to only cast it when the earth was covered in its annual white blanket. The humans seemed to be loneliest at that time and the white crystals seemed to make her message stronger.
Her once long and complicated invitation grew smaller and shorter. Until it wasn't more than a simple "hello".
And so she waited some more. But with every earth cycle that passed, her light diminished and it took her more effort to cast the message. But she refused to give up. She would try and try again until she had used up all her light. It was worth it if it meant there was a small chance she’d find a companion. Someone she could call friend.
She almost gave up hope. She always told herself that this was the last cycle. But then their winter came and she told herself: One more time. One last time.
Just like today. One more time. One last time.
She gathered her light and cast it down on earth, illuminating their night sky once again, like she had done for many of years.
Her last cry for help.
And so she kept on waiting. Floating around in her lonely dimension, hoping and begging that this time, someone would answer. That someone would find her. And maybe, maybe, that someone would love her.