Too Close for Comfort
Too Close for Comfort
I’ve experienced unusual phenomenon all my life but some of it is hard to sort out. This story might sound a little like ‘Cowboys and Aliens’ — except I suspect there was nothing alien about what I witnessed. I think it came from a lot closer to home. The attached drawing isn’t perfectly to scale but it’ll give you the idea.
It was a Saturday in early June, 1968, just north of the point where Highways 14 and 21 intersect near Edmonton, Alberta, Canada. I was fifteen at the time, my brother a year younger.
After a training session with some of our horses, my brother and I were cooling out a young mare which meant we were leading her in slow circles in the corral until she stopped sweating. One second, her hooves were dragging in the dirt, the next she’d exploded with panic, slamming into us in a desperate attempt to escape. She charged against the heavy corral rails, frantic to get away — from something.
I ducked out of the way so my brother could get the mare under control and looked for the source of her terror. There was nothing. Then I noticed she was looking up.Since there was nothing but blue sky and sunshine, I couldn’t imagine what could be so terrifying above us.
. . . Then I saw it too. Just above the trees. Silent. Disk-shaped.
I pointed and my brother threw a glance skyward as the mare skidded him along the ground. Just to be clear, horses are not prone to hallucinations and, since she saw it first, my brother and I hadn’t imagined it.
What did we see? Something we both shake our heads about to this day. It was so typically a ‘flying saucer’ that it was almost a cliché. It was bronze/orange and tipped toward us at a thirty-degree angle so we never saw the bottom. More than sixty feet in diameter, it had a band of something transparent that encircled it a third of the way down. No rivets, no seams, no reflection of the sun even though the body appeared metallic. The edge of the disk was rounded and smooth. Through the transparent portion, we could see into what appeared to be an empty viewing hall.
Feeling trapped in the corral and getting as nervous as the mare, we led the horse through a gate and moved closer to the trees that surrounded the working area to resume our vigil.
We committed as much to memory as possible. Could we hear anything? No. Could we see anybody inside looking out at us? No. The hallway appeared empty. The top of the disk bulged upward to a flattish rounded cone. There were no protuberances. It didn’t bob around in the air.
It was early afternoon and the sky was clear and blue, visibility excellent, light breeze, about 1:00 p.m. We asked each other questions as we watched it, wondering if others were seeing it. We were in a low spot so probably not. It was no more than twenty feet above the tree-tops and about seventy feet north of the corral.
Although we felt we were being watched, it could’ve been because the craft was tipped towards us. Most likely we were irrelevant to whoever was piloting the craft or it could’ve been unmanned. What we did know was that we were witness to technology we hadn’t been told about so we doubted at the time that it had been made by human hands, at least not the humans we lived with.
It hung there for six or seven minutes then, without warning, shot away to the northeast at a shallow angle. It was out of sight in a fraction of a second and, if I hadn’t been staring at it, I’d have thought it had vanished. Without a controlled gravitational field, no biological being could’ve withstood that acceleration. There was no sonic boom, not even a rustling of leaves that were no more than twenty feet away from it. Its departure was as silent as its arrival.
My brother and I rushed to the house to report what we’d seen, volunteered to go to separate rooms and draw the object, which we did. When the drawings were compared, it was obvious we’d seen the same thing.
Did the arrival of the craft have anything to do with us, or was it coincidence we were there at the time it happened to stop? We’ve never found out.
We don’t know who constructed it but it was not ordinary technology. Nearly fifty years later it still isn’t. If it was from Earth, then somebody was lying to us at the time and still is today. If this technology was functional in 1968, how many of these devices have been constructed since? By whom? For what? And who owns them? Did taxpayers pay for their development? Why are they still secret? Who’s benefiting? And what is NASA’s agenda in distracting us with ridiculous and archaic rockets?
This craft was either the result of human technology — or not. Either answer is disturbing and requires serious investigation. My brother and I have not been the only witnesses to such craft over the years.
Whenever any group holds superior technology over another, the end is always the same. We ignore such events at our peril.