It was just past dawn on August 23, 2010, when I walked out to my car in Cumming, Georgia, and the sky drew me in with a strange spectacle. Hovering silently was a disk-shaped object, unlike anything ordinary. What caught my eye were its lights — at one end, a green light flashed on and off; at the other, a red one did the same. Between them glowed clear, steady lights that seemed to anchor the eerie display.
For at least twenty minutes, this object remained almost motionless, its presence both unsettling and mesmerizing. The dawning light barely touched it as it shifted color, fading slowly. Then the whole shape shrank, becoming akin to a distant star. But even as it diminished, it pulsated — bright then dim in a hypnotic rhythm that kept me watching until it vanished.
The encounter left me with a haunting question: what secrets lurk just beyond our line of sight when the world sleeps? This silent visitor from the sky remains a vivid memory, an unexplained mystery etched forever in the quiet light of an early morning in Cumming.