I was born and partially raised (until I was 10) in
a small town in New Hampshire. My best friend, Janet, lived on a dairy farm on
top of a hill with her family. I spent many a night at Janet’s house in those
days, but one night in particular stands out.
It was a clear, cold night in January and we were
outside because, well, children don’t always make the best choices. Plus, in
those days, people were a little more laid back with their children. We were
returning from the barn, where we had just checked on the horses, when a
movement caught our attention. That movement wasn’t near the house or in the
field or by the trees; nope—it was above the trees.
We looked up, staring in awe, as a light in the sky
zigged first one way and then the other, stopping for a moment before zipping
off like a kitten on a hard-wood floor. Fear shivered its way along my spine. I knew I had
just seen something not of this world. This was no airplane or weather balloon;
looking back, distance and size would also point away from it being someone’s
RC helicopter.
Now, sure, it was the 70s, but Janet and I were good
girls; her older brothers were rarely home, so we were not high on pot,
second-hand or first-hand. Her parents ran the dairy farm, so they didn’t
exactly have the time to get high, even if I could have imagined Mr. & Mrs.
S doing such a thing.
From that point on, I firmly believed that we are
not alone in this universe. Many years later, I married and had a child. When
he was around 4 or 5 years old, my boy told me of a nightmare he had had. He told
me of how someone or something had come into his room and placed a hand on his
forehead, then left as silently as they had come in. The night in question, it
was neither my husband nor I who visited him in his bed.
We had never watched alien-themed movies or shows
around him, nor discussed any belief or non-belief in aliens. He described, in
nearly perfect detail, the “little gray men” that people often describe in
stories of alien visitations. A large head with large eyes, small, narrow nostril
slits and a tiny mouth, a slender body with long arms and hands—my paraphrase
of what I got out of his description; these are obviously not the exact words
of a 4 year-old.
I showed him a picture in a book from the library and he cried out, “That’s
him!” I tried to reassure him that the alien was not likely to hurt him, as it had not done so during its visit, but even so, I slept very lightly, and on his floor, for many,
many, many nights after that. He is 17 now, and still remembers that night; he
also believes that we are not the only life forms in this universe.
What about you? Do you believe that there are other
beings out there among the stars? Do you have hopes that one day, we will make
contact or does that idea frighten the life out of you? Do you think aliens
will be friends or conquerors?
2 comments:
Wow! Kind of exciting in a creepy sort of way. Do you think what you saw and what happened to your son are connected? I have all kinds of thoughts about each incident. They could fill a blog post of their own. I definitely believe we are not alone. As to what they (Aliens) are, I'm afraid to guess. Chilling post, Lynne.
I actually have thought of that--perhaps we're marked in some way, genetically or something. Scared me senseless at the time. I actually did a cleansing on the house, to sort of ward off supernatural things--wouldn't have helped, likely, against aliens, but it made E & I feel better.
Thanks for reading!
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