One crisp evening in mid-September 2000, I found myself beneath the dark canopy of the Belleville, Ontario sky, telescope in hand, ready to chase stars. But the heavens had their own show in store.
To the left of my gaze, a hauntingly bright fireball emerged, a glowing orb moving deliberately slow, its light intense enough to command the night. It was draped in a subtle aura, a haze that seemed to whisper secrets of the cosmos. As I watched, this luminous wanderer began to accelerate, its brightness dimming like a fading ember until it vanished completely. Moments later, another fireball followed its path, mimicking its eerie dance before disappearing into the void.
What added an unsettling edge to this celestial spectacle was the presence of aircraft nearby, their engines perhaps in silent pursuit or mere coincidence—their lights flickering as if in conversation with the fireballs.
The entire encounter stretched for a mesmerizing thirty seconds, leaving me rooted in wonder and curiosity. I lingered longer outside that night, hoping for a reprise, but the sky had fallen silent once more. This encounter, mysterious and brief, etched itself indelibly into my memory—a surreal ballet of light and shadow under the Canadian stars.