2004-04-30 - Gadsden, AL - Cigar

The pinpoint of light that eight minutes ago was many thousands of yards away grew uncomfortably close. Lindsay and I sat on the dock in Riddles Bend over the dark waters of the Coosa River beneath a spray of stars, mystified. I do not remember the moon. As the lighted craft approached, we wondered to each other why a boat would be cruising down the river at nine at night. Its light was brighter now, concentrated on the opposite shoreline like a spotlight. A police cruiser, perhaps? But it was so huge. Maybe forty yards long. And there was complete silence. No whirring of a boat motor. No helicopter blades chopping and stabbing at the air. There was no frothy wake smacking against the dock. This lack of natural physical effects was eerie considering its great size.

((name deleted)) and I were immobile as it moved past us. It seemed to hover above the water as opposed to gliding through it. Three ovular white lights on the bottom barely illuminated the river below. Frightened yet astounded by the sight, we understood the boundlessness of the galaxy. At that moment we became the hostesses of this planet. We had been visited. Walking back to my grandmother’s house, I could feel the hair erect itself on my arms, the back of my neck. Shaken and bewildered, we whispered of the possibilities. To think that we remain the sole occupants of the universe is arrogant and absurd.

(I had that experience last spring and I don’t know why I never wrote anything about it.)

((NUFORC Note: Witness indicates that date is approximate. PD))