"The Day I Met an Alien: A True Story of the Unbelievable"

I’m not the kind of person who sees ghosts in the mirror or believes in every UFO sighting on YouTube. I’ve lived in a small rural town in Colorado my entire life, where the strangest thing you might encounter is a raccoon knocking over a trash can. But something happened on the night of September 13th, 2023, that flipped my world upside down.

It started out as a regular evening. I had just returned from my late shift at the gas station and was too wired to sleep. Around midnight, I decided to take a walk through the wooded trail behind my house—a path I knew like the back of my hand. The moon was high, the air cool, and the forest eerily quiet. Too quiet, in fact.

Roughly 15 minutes into the walk, I noticed a faint humming sound. It wasn’t like a bug or a distant car—it had a low frequency that made my chest vibrate slightly. I paused, thinking maybe my phone was glitching in my pocket, but it was off. That’s when I saw the light.

A pale, bluish glow flickered through the trees ahead. My first instinct was that it might be campers, maybe teenagers messing around with flashlights. But as I got closer, I realized it wasn’t coming from the ground. It was hovering—suspended mid-air, about 30 feet above the forest floor.

And then I saw it.

A craft, metallic and silent, shaped like an elongated oval, with a surface that seemed to shimmer and ripple like water, was floating motionless between the trees. No noise. No wind. Just that deep hum and an overwhelming feeling that I was being watched.

I froze. I should have turned around, run, called someone—anything—but my legs wouldn’t move. Then, without warning, a beam of light descended from the bottom of the craft and bathed me in a warm, almost pleasant glow. My body felt paralyzed but not in pain—more like I was disconnected from my limbs.

A shape began to materialize in front of me.

Not a monster. Not a little green man. Just… something. About six feet tall, humanoid in shape but completely featureless—no eyes, no mouth, just a smooth, reflective surface like glass or polished stone. It stepped out of the beam and stopped about ten feet from me. Then, somehow, it spoke.

But not with sound.

The voice entered my head as if it were my own thought.

> "You were not meant to see this. But now that you have… we must decide."

Decide what?

> "Whether to leave you as you are… or to awaken what has been dormant."

I didn’t understand. I tried to move, to speak, but my body remained frozen. My mind, however, felt like it was expanding—flooded with images, sensations, memories that weren’t mine. I saw planets with blue trees and three suns. I saw massive structures floating in deep space. I felt the sensation of flight without wings, heard languages with no words.

Then it all stopped.

The figure took a step back and lifted an arm—or what resembled one. A bright flash engulfed everything, and the next moment, I was lying on the forest path in complete darkness. The craft was gone. The light. The hum. The being. All gone.

I stumbled home in a daze, thinking I had hallucinated the whole thing. Maybe I’d fallen and hit my head. Maybe I had dozed off on the trail. But the moment I walked into my house and flipped on the lights, I saw something that made my stomach drop.

The clock on the wall said 4:27 a.m.

I had left for my walk at 12:08.

Four hours had passed—and I could only account for maybe thirty minutes.

I didn’t tell anyone at first. Who would believe me? But over the next few days, strange things started happening.

I could hear frequencies others couldn’t. Streetlights flickered when I walked under them. I’d wake up in the middle of the night with symbols burned into my mind—complex, geometric patterns I’d never seen before. I started drawing them in my sleep.

A week later, I received an anonymous envelope in the mail. Inside was a single piece of paper with one of the symbols I had drawn—and a note that simply read:

> “You are not alone. You never were.”

To this day, I don’t know who sent it.

I eventually visited a UFO researcher in New Mexico, someone who has worked with supposed abductees. I showed him my drawings, described the being, and before I even finished my story, he pulled out a sketch from 1994—done by a woman from Alaska. It was the exact same figure. Down to the shimmering, glass-like skin.

So here I am, writing this not for fame, not for clicks, but because I know how insane this all sounds. But I need someone—anyone—to know that it happened.

The day I met an alien didn’t end with government men in suits or waking up on a lab table. It ended with a part of me being opened that I didn’t know existed.

And every night since, I’ve stared at the stars just a little differently—because I know someone, or something, is staring back.