It was New Year’s Eve in 2009, a night like no other in Puerto Escondido, Oaxaca. The city’s usual celebration buzz faded under an uncanny spectacle. While dining with friends, our revelry abruptly stalled as an intense orange sphere drifted serenely eastward above us. The fireworks were done, but nature or something beyond had its own spectacle prepared.
The orb was a few meters in diameter, suspended noiselessly about 4,000 feet above ground. Its fuzzy aura flickered with a plasma-like radiance that held us transfixed. Others around remarked on a similar phenomenon last year, a silent witness to an obscure pattern we had yet to understand.
After the sphere disappeared from view, curiosity pulled me onto my rooftop to scan darkened horizons. The night gifted me more enigmas: another orange sphere appeared from the north, slowly descending flightpaths over the ocean to the south. Moments later, a third orb slid by, then two more — these, a shade deeper, a brilliant red — perfectly spaced like notes in a cryptic, celestial melody.
Each orb traced a nearly identical path north to south, moving with purposeful grace, their silent procession painting an unseen grid against the night sky. Together, these orbs lingered overhead for 30 to 35 minutes, haunting the darkness with a strange, mesmerizing light.
This night remains etched in memory — a profound reminder of the mysteries quietly drifting above us, unnoticed and unexplained, but impossible to ignore once witnessed. For those who watch the skies, such moments fuel wonder and speculation, echoing the timeless allure of the unknown.