What Was That?

It was late November, and the days were growing shorter, the nights colder. The small town of Wrenwood was already preparing for winter, with residents stocking up on firewood and sealing their windows against the biting wind. There was a sense of quiet anticipation in the air, the kind that precedes a long, dark season. But no one could have anticipated what would happen on the night of the 23rd.

It started with the wind, an unusually fierce gust that rattled windows and sent leaves skittering across the empty streets. People noticed it, of course—remarked on it to their families, wondering if a storm was coming—but no one was particularly alarmed. Wrenwood was used to the whims of the weather.

But then, just after midnight, the lights went out.

Every house, every streetlamp, every building was plunged into darkness simultaneously, as if a giant hand had reached down and snuffed out the town’s lights. Phones and flashlights flickered briefly before dying as well, leaving the town bathed in an eerie, oppressive darkness.

People gathered in their homes, whispering to one another, trying to stay calm. It was just a power outage, they told themselves, nothing to worry about. The power would come back on soon, and everything would be fine.

But then the noise started.

It was a low, distant hum at first, almost like the sound of a far-off engine. It grew louder and louder until it was a throbbing, pulsing vibration that seemed to emanate from the ground itself. Windows shook, dishes rattled on their shelves, and the air seemed to vibrate with the intensity of the sound.

People tried to investigate, but the darkness was impenetrable, and the noise made it impossible to think. Some ventured outside, their nerves on edge, only to be driven back inside by the cold and the unsettling sense that something was very, very wrong.

In one of the houses near the edge of town, a man named Tom Matheson stood at his window, staring out into the blackness. He was a practical man, not given to flights of fancy or superstition, but as the noise grew louder, he felt a cold dread settle in his gut. It was as if something was moving out there in the dark, something vast and unknowable.

He glanced back at his wife, who was sitting on the couch, clutching their young daughter to her chest. Her face was pale, her eyes wide with fear. "Tom, what’s happening?" she whispered.

He didn’t have an answer. All he could do was shake his head and turn back to the window, hoping—praying—that the lights would come back on, that the noise would stop, that everything would return to normal.

But it didn’t.

At precisely 2:17 AM, the noise stopped abruptly, leaving the town in a silence so profound it was almost deafening. For a moment, no one moved. The darkness felt thicker now, more oppressive as if it were pressing down on the town like a heavy blanket. And then, just as suddenly as it had disappeared, the power returned. Lights flickered on, phones buzzed back to life, and the town was bathed in a warm, comforting glow.

But the relief was short-lived.

The next morning, Wrenwood woke to an unsettling discovery. The town was surrounded by a perfect circle of scorched earth, a ring of blackened, barren ground that stretched for miles in every direction. Trees had been reduced to ash, and the once-thriving fields were now nothing more than charred wastelands.

No one could explain it. The media descended on the town, and scientists and experts from all over the country arrived to study the phenomenon, but no one could offer any answers. There were no signs of fire, no evidence of a natural disaster, nothing to explain the perfectly circular devastation that had surrounded the town overnight.

The people of Wrenwood were left to their own speculations, their own fears. Some whispered of government experiments gone wrong, of secret military weapons being tested. Others spoke of alien encounters, of something otherworldly, passing through the town. But no matter how much they theorized, no matter how many experts and investigators combed the area, the mystery remained unsolved.

Over time, the event became a ghost story, a tale to be told around campfires or in hushed tones at the local bar. But for those who lived through it, for those who heard the noise and saw the scorched earth with their own eyes, it was something far more terrifying.

It was a reminder that some things are beyond understanding, and that there are forces in the world that defy explanation. As the years passed, the people of Wrenwood learned to live with the unanswered questions, with the lingering sense of unease that came from knowing they had witnessed something extraordinary—and terrifying—that night. Something they would never understand.

And something they prayed would never return.