Today I was asked a question, about UFO’s. Basicly the question wanted to know, if I have no technical science training (not even on a high school level… **I didn’t go to school**), how than is it that I can write about UFO’s/space ships in such vivid detail. The question was followed by the laughing off-handed joke:
What did you see a real UFO or something?
hhmmmm…
actually, yes, and the ship in my books The VISION-D8 and it’s captain, are both very real, I have seen them both. I came to write stories about that ship by a rather tramatic way.
Yes, I have seen a UFO.
Yes, I have seen an alien.
Today, saying this is not so taboo anymore. People are not so quick to judge. Most people today want details. From me they shall not get them. You see, my “sighting” was not in the past few years, but rather it was nearly 30 years ago, when any mention of such things was scandelous, taboo, and downright Satanic.
I was eight years old at the time of the “sighting”. I use the word “sighting” losely, as a sighting indicates a meer glimse at something you could not identify. I also steer clear of the term UFO in this incident. There was no meer glimse. What I saw was unmistakably a spacecraft from another world or realm or dimension (I don’t know where it came from).
In my mind, what I saw was not “unusual” or fearful, that is, I did not find it to be odd, because I was still too young to know that this should have been thought of as odd. I ran to my neighbor friends and to my cousins and told them what I had seen, they came running and they saw it too. We were all very excited about what had just happened and each of us ran back home to our parents and dragged them back into the woods to show them our space ship and the alien.
When we returned with our parants the ship and the alien were gone, and our parents became very angry and accussed us of playing a very bad prank. For the first few hours we pleaded with our parents and told them that everything was true it was not a prank.
The next day my best friend told me that she had had her mouth washed out with soap and that her father was right it had never happened, she only thought I was playing a game, she now told me. My cousin, likewise, complaining of a spanking that made it painful to sit down had convinced him that his mother was right, it had never happened.
And so began my obssession to find someone, anyone, who would believe me. I drew pictures of the ship and the alien. Paintings, dozens of them in watercolor, acrylics and ink began to line my walls. I made sculptures and cloth dolls of the alien. I drew up detailed maps of the area and the ship. I was eight years old and my life was suddenly consummed with one thing and one thing only… drawing the ship and alien in the most acurate detail possible, so that some body somewhere would see my art and recognize this ship as real.
No one believed me. People started saying stuff like “What a lonly child.” “Such an over active imagination.” Adults started treating me like I was crazy and there was talk of mental hospitals.
By the time I was 14 I had lost all my friends and was unable to make new ones. No one would talk to me, most would not even look at me, some wouldn’t even be in the same room with me. It was like I had the plauge. The adults at church were the worst. They talked of such things as “demon possesion” and “exorsism”. Adults began asking “When well she ever grow up? Why does she still believe in these childish things?”
When I was 16, the bishop tried to have me commited into an insane ayslum. Around this same time most all of my drawings and artwork was gathered up and burned. That was the last straw. I realized at last that no one was ever going to believe me. I bought a safe and locked what remained of my drawings and other such items away from the world, vowing to never again, tell anyone the details of what it was I saw or what it was that had happened on that day, so many years ago.
As the adults wanted I grew up. I grew up by realizing that adults are mean people whom I no longer liked. I grew up because I now knew that no one cared about the truth, they only cared about what made them “look good to others”. I grew up because I realized that my seeing something that they hadn’t seen, made them look bad for knowing me. I grew up because I learned to remain silent and withhold the truth from others. Suddenly I understood that when they were asking me to grow up, they ment they wanted me to act like them: to be prim and proper and and turn a blind eye to anything that would make them look bad in front of their peers.
Many, many years have passed since my “sighting”, I no longer tell people what I saw. I no longer ty to find people who well believe me, because it is no longer important to me that I do so. What happened, happened, I know it happened because I was there and I saw it with my own eyes. Why it happened I do not know. How everything dissapeared so quickly before we arrived back with our parents, I can not explain. It is a mystery which I would love to solve.
Why did no one believe us? Looking back today, I think the adults were terrified. Terrified that if what we three children had told them was true, that it would mean we were not alone in this universe, and that there was a race of people capible of technology to build ships that traveled to our home. They were terrified of what that could mean. I believe that the adults were just plain terrified of the possability that what we said was true, and that they could not handle such a thought, and found it easier to ridicule and belittle children instead…. I mean, they actually did leave their homes in a panic and followed us into the woods. They only became angry after they got there are saw nothing. Why would they have let us drag them out into the woods if they had not suspected we really had found a spacecraft?
In the end, what I saw that day had a huge impact on my life, some good and some bad.
What’s your take on this? I’d love to hear what you have to say about this post. Leave a comment and share your views!
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