I was standing by my north-facing window when a sudden vibration shattered every dish in my kitchen. A blinding light appeared outside—too intense to look at directly. Behind me, someone was present, but when I raised my rifle—intended for bears—the rounds passed straight through the figure. I fought with my fists, but it was as if I was hitting nothing but air. The entity told me Anchorage would become a stronghold before everything went dark.
I woke up naked in the snow three days later, though my watch stubbornly displayed the same day and time as before. The experience left a lingering distortion not only in time but in the behavior of my once-trusting cats. These were my babies, companions raised from kittens, but now they hiss and claw whenever I come near. Their aggression was unlike anything I had seen before, paralleling the strange and unseen forces that had visited me.
The object had lights and landed near my home, accompanied by eerie electrical or magnetic effects. Even animals reacted to the event. This encounter remains etched in my memory—a haunting episode where the boundaries between reality and the unknown blurred, leaving me with more questions than answers. Anchorage, in that moment, was no longer just a city—it became a nexus of the inexplicable.