While walking along the riverbank in Jalostotitlan, Jalisco, I had an unforgettable experience that has left its mark on me ever since. At around 11:00 in the morning, over a span of a couple of weeks, I encountered a mysterious small craft unlike anything I had ever seen before.
The first time, it was just a fleeting glimpse—an object, silent and blue, flying off silently over the river. But the second time was far more intense. I saw the craft parked quietly by the water’s edge. Then, suddenly, it took off again, gliding over where I stood. Fear consumed me, and instinctively, I yelled at the craft.
In response, the craft turned toward me, revealing an array of blinking antennas—around forty of them—lining its sides, with some sort of reflective panel catching the sunlight. Then, a strange smoke sprayed from the side of the craft, partly blinding me. Afterward, it disappeared into the nearby canyon.
The town buzzed with this story afterwards, but few believed me as I detailed what I saw. The craft was small, about the size of a small boat, painted blue with multiple blinking lights. Inside, I glimpsed eight beings, roughly three feet tall. They had dark skin and wore white suits accented with brown stripes and goggles that covered their eyes. Their sounds were unlike anything human—more like frog-like croaks that echoed eerily from the craft.
This encounter by the river remains etched in my memory, a chilling reminder of how close and real the unknown can be right at our doorstep.