Feb 22nd, 2024.

I have never been so terrified in my entire life, and I’ve been through a pretty messy divorce. I went back to the forest about an hour ago to check out the light I saw last night and seriously wish I bloody hadn’t. The genie is out of the bottle, Pandora’s box is empty and the cat is well and truly out of the bag. 

I’m so glad I started this blog because otherwise, I’d have nowhere to share this discovery without being carted off to the nearest mental hospital. Most of my co-workers already think I’m a bit of a nutcase so they’d probably turn me in, my ex-wife even more so. I’m even a bit worried about sharing it here, just in case the government sees it or something and sends some guys in suits to take me away.

Sod it, I need to tell somebody, I’m gonna explode if I don’t. It’s not like I have any actual followers on the blog anyway; so here goes. 

I was up in the woods after work again with Alfie, and we headed in the vague direction where I saw the light hit the trees yesterday. As we got closer to the general location, my ears started to pop like when you’re on airplane, and a kind of static hum from an old tv started to tickle my skin giving me the weirdest goosebumps. Alfie was barking like mad, so I had to pick him up and carry him the rest of the way, nothing else was calming him down, good job he’s only a Jack Russell.

The static stopped all of a sudden. It was the opposite of loud, like an anti-noise sort of thing, it felt like we were in a bubble, I couldn’t even hear the usual low rumbling of the nearby motorway. No birds, just nothing. 

That’s when I saw it. 

Kind of metallic, iridescent, like an abalone shell. I’ve seen enough films over the years to know exactly what it was. 

It looked abandoned, not crash-landed, just gently parked in a clearing amongst the pine and oak, glowing with a faint yellow, the colour of fireflies on a summer night. It seemed almost like it was breathing, which is ridiculous I know, but that’s what it felt like.

I was probably just being paranoid but I could feel someone or something was watching us the whole time. Was it the owner of the ship looking from a distance, or was it the ship itself? 

I panicked, understandable I think given the circumstances, and fled the scene. The thrum of the motorway exploded back into existence, the sound reverberating in my stomach, a group of lost seagulls screeched and cawed nearby, scraping at my very bones.

I don’t do drugs, I very rarely drink and when I do, it’s a cheeky beer with dinner, nothing more. Either my loneliness has reached new, unexplored depths of severity and is creating imaginary beings to help me cope with my social isolation, or I have in fact stumbled upon the greatest discovery of humankind ever recorded. 

A crazy person wouldn’t know that they’re crazy, right? 

Alan Lean.

Poetic Catharsis.