u/Vadafallon

For context, I did use AI to rewrite my story, I think it helps me flesh out some details and just makes it more interesting. I can post my original writings about it if you want, but everything in this story is true to the best of my memories. I do plan on drawing what I saw, its pretty much stuck in my memory and i remember my parents house like the back of my hand. I will sketch it out soon and update this. Also just some more details i forgot, this happened in Nash County NC. I had several other encounters which I will document soon as well. Ask any questions you like, thanks all.

Above the Tree Line

I was twenty-one or twenty-two when it happened. Even now, at fifty-one, I cannot remember the exact year, or why I had moved back into my parents’ house for a while. Certain parts of that time have faded into the general haze of early adulthood. Jobs, relationships, the restless uncertainty of being young—they have all blurred together.

But I remember that night.

I was sitting in my bedroom with my friend Jeremy, whom we called Germ. We were waiting for our friend Adam to arrive. The plan was nothing unusual. Adam was bringing some forty-ounce beers, and we were going to spend the night drinking and hanging out, as we often did back then. We were young Gen Xers with nowhere particular to be the next morning.

It was already after midnight. I remember that because my parents had gone to bed. Friends arriving at that hour was not unusual at our house, however, and I was not concerned about waking anyone.

My parents lived in a double-wide in the country. A long wooden porch ran across the front of the house, something my mother had built herself. She was good at that sort of thing. The driveway was gravel and curved around the house in a horseshoe. At night, you could always hear a car coming. The tires grinding over the stones would announce someone well before they reached the door.

That night, Adam’s car sounded louder than usual.

I noticed it, but only vaguely. There was nothing alarming about it at first. Germ and I heard the car pull in and continued waiting for Adam to come inside.

A moment later, he burst into my bedroom.

He looked shaken.

“Dude,” he said, “a UFO almost landed on my car.”

I laughed.

I thought he was messing with me. My friends knew I had seen strange things in the sky before, things I considered UFOs, and I assumed Adam was using that knowledge to give me a hard time.

But he did not laugh.

He was completely serious. Something had passed very close over his car as he drove toward the house, and he wanted us to come outside with him.

The three of us stepped onto the porch.

When I say it was dark, I do not mean suburban darkness. I mean country darkness. There were no streetlights. There were no nearby businesses or glowing parking lots. The few houses along the road were separated by wide stretches of land. Once the lights inside the house were behind you, the night seemed to become a physical thing.

The woods began perhaps three hundred feet behind the house. I cannot swear to the distance. Memory rearranges measurements over time. I only know that I could have walked from the porch to the tree line in less than a minute.

The woods stretched in both directions, forming a black wall against the sky.

Adam began describing what he had seen, but I was barely listening. I was searching the darkness above the trees.

Then I saw it.

It was off to the left, roughly three houses down. That was a considerable distance where we lived, because the houses were spread far apart.

At first, I thought it was a helicopter.

That was the only familiar object my mind could attach to it. It appeared to be hovering near the tree line, and from that distance its shape was difficult to understand.

“It’s just a helicopter,” I said.

Then it turned.

The moment it changed direction, the explanation fell apart.

It was not a helicopter.

I could see it clearly now. The main body was long and cigar-shaped. Around it were four glowing orbs, positioned as though they marked four sides of the object. I do not remember any windows, seams, markings or mechanical details. I do not remember a metallic surface. What remains in my memory is the shape and those four lights surrounding it.

It moved above the tree line.

There was no sound.

That silence is one of the things I remember most clearly. A helicopter close enough to see would have beaten the air apart. We would have heard engines, rotors or some mechanical vibration traveling across the fields.

There was nothing.

The object floated toward my parents’ house without making even the faintest noise. It did not move the way an airplane moves, and it did not seem to struggle against gravity. It simply advanced, slowly and deliberately, as though the air offered no resistance.

The three of us stood on the porch and watched it approach.

None of us spoke.

What had begun as curiosity became something else when it drew close. The distance between observing a strange light and realizing that the light is coming toward you is enormous. One moment, you are a spectator. The next, you feel as though you have been noticed.

It passed near the house and came to a stop behind us, hovering just above the trees.

It was very close.

I was terrified.

There is no dignified way to describe it. I was scared shitless. The object remained there for several seconds, silent and motionless, while we stood exposed on the porch beneath it.

I do not know whether it was watching us. I do not know whether the pause meant anything at all. But in that moment, it felt intentional.

Then it began to move again.

It floated directly away from us, continuing above the trees until the darkness swallowed it. There was no sudden burst of speed. No dramatic flash. No roar of engines. It simply traveled beyond our sight as quietly as it had arrived.

We stayed outside for a while, staring into the place where it had disappeared.

Nothing returned.

The night became ordinary again, but it did not feel ordinary.

Adam, Germ and I had not started drinking yet. None of us had taken drugs. We were sober when Adam arrived, sober when we walked onto the porch and sober when we watched that object move silently above the tree line.

Thirty years have passed.

Memory is not perfect. I know this. Some distances may have shifted. Certain details may have become sharper or less distinct with time. That is why I still ask Adam and Jeremy about it. Every so often, I bring up that night and compare what I remember with what they remember.

I want to make sure it really happened the way I think it did.

Their memories remain close enough to mine.

I still do not know what we saw.

I only know that it was there.

Love this guitar

This happened when i was 21ish behind my house

First patch…wow

What are your thoughts on them adding a lift to the passport?