Compelled

I am compelled to finish a story I started over three years ago. A story that began as a short play, which then turned into a performance, then a short story. And now, it's a continuation of stories that all center around a common topic: grief.

A young woman is unable to grieve for her dying father and will use any means necessary to avoid it. Even after her father dies and her family falls apart, she is committed to her silent heart. But how long can a heart survive without beating?

This could be a novella. Or maybe just a really long story. I don't know. All I know is I have to finish it. Scenes come to me at random moments and I write them. Every thing is in pieces now but I kind of like it that way. It's more real. Cause when you look back on life, you rarely see things linear. You see them in bits and pieces. Maybe I'll call the story "Fragments of the Silent Girl who Longed to go to Pluto."