As a child of nine, the night outside Orlando, Florida, in the summer of 1977, etched itself vividly into my memory. It was a warm evening, the kind that invites families on lazy drives, and we were headed towards the glowing lights of Disneyworld. Suddenly, my mother caught sight of something unusual in the darkened sky — a silently hovering saucer-shaped craft. We pulled over to the side of the highway, across from a towering building several stories high.
The object loomed larger than the building’s circumference, casting a surreal shadow. At its base, lights of varying colors traced the bottom of the craft, rhythmically changing like some unearthly beacon. Around it, a small plane circled, seemingly dwarfed but unafraid. The night’s stillness was punctuated not by sound from the craft — it was utterly silent — but by strange interference crackling over our car’s CB radio each time the craft neared.
For about fifteen spellbinding minutes, we watched this haunting vision, caught between awe and a creeping unease. Was the aircraft chasing it, or merely investigating? The electrical effects hinted at a power beyond our understanding, an enigmatic intrusion into a routine summer evening. Eventually, we moved on, the craft fading from view, leaving a trace of mystery that lingers even decades later.
This encounter is not merely a tale of sighting but an invitation to consider the unknown forces that might be near yet just out of reach. The convergence of light, silence, and subtle electromagnetic disturbance invites a chilling, almost surreal atmosphere — a hallmark of true UFO experiences that beckon us to look up and question what lurks beyond the veil of our everyday world.