One quiet August night in 2004, just past 2:30 a.m., my oldest son and I were engrossed in a movie when our peaceful evening turned into something out of a surreal nightmare. Outside our house in Belleville, Ontario, beyond a stretch of woods, an enormous shape appeared—a craft unlike anything I’d ever seen, defying all logic. It wasn’t an airplane, yet it had lights—the kind that flashed red, blue, green, and yellow in a hypnotic dance. The thing was huge, stationary at first, hovering silently in the cold night air.
As we stared, dumbfounded, the craft’s lights shifted in color, casting an eerie glow over the field behind our home. Our satellite television screen flickered and scrambled in sync with its presence—image and sound distorting with an unexplained electrical interference. We ran to the office upstairs for a better vantage point, but the bizarre spectacle only deepened. Suddenly, the object rose swiftly, hovered again for a brief moment, and then vanished northward at an impossible speed.
The strange occurrences weren’t over. About fifteen minutes later, a bright white light appeared farther in the distance. It held still for a moment, then began swaying side to side before rocketing upward into the sky. Our satellite went dead once more, plunging our house into static silence.
Haunted by what we’d seen and the strange effects on our electronics, I decided to return to the roof armed with a video camera. Intriguingly, two neighbors came forward, sharing similar sightings they hadn’t known were connected to ours. There’s an unnerving silence surrounding such encounters, but they leave an indelible mark on your soul. Whatever that craft was—its large size, multicolored flashing lights, elusive movements, and disruptive electromagnetic effects—it remains a relentless mystery etched into the dark August night over Belleville.