One crisp November evening, as my husband and I journeyed along Highway 401 near Prescott, Ontario, an inexplicable spectacle unfolded before us. High above the tree line, framed by a delicate mist, glowed two concentric rings of light, each rotating counterclockwise. The outer ring, roughly 50 feet across, sported a dozen bright white lights, while the inner ring, about 15 feet in diameter, carried five similar lights. Both rings spun at a mesmerising pace—about 60 revolutions per minute—casting a shimmering aura that pierced through the night’s haze.
As we drove, the uncanny object seemed to keep pace with our car, a silent companion in the night sky. I urged my husband to pull over, but the bustling traffic made stopping unsafe. Glancing back, he caught sight of the rings lingering momentarily before they slowly faded into the mist, their glowing aura lingering like a ghostly presence until we veered off the highway at an exit near Prescott.
The image remains etched in my mind: an eerie dance of lights suspended in the cold night air, their origin and purpose elusive. No earthly explanation seemed to fit. The mist, the light, the silence—all combined to create an unforgettable encounter with the unknown. Whether a trick of light or something far stranger, this mysterious phenomenon continues to haunt the edges of my thoughts.