For months leading up to that crystalline night in July, the skies of Vancouver held a secret that remained veiled until the 25th. I first noticed seven or eight dark, shadowy crafts, each outlined by faint yet unmistakable green lights, forming a perfect triangle slicing through the night sky. They moved subtly at first—almost eagerly avoiding attention—before their hypnotic dance captured my imagination.
These enigmatic crafts followed a precise figure-eight pattern, drifting from the eastern edge to the west park of Vancouver time and time again. As the minutes ticked by, their eerie, continuous presence was undeniable, each movement more mesmerizing than the last. Around them, a faint aura shimmered, as if the air itself was charged with an otherworldly glow.
After about eight minutes of this spectral ballet, every craft suddenly stilled, hovering silently, before projecting a fan-like laser beam that spread gracefully from right to left across the sky for two minutes. Then, as if on cue, they resumed their looping pattern, only to retreat eastward where another set would seamlessly take their place.
A neighbor confided to me that he had been witnessing these strange visitors since December of the previous year, making this more than a fleeting encounter — a continual visitation that shared the urban night with us quietly, yet unmistakably. The combination of their triangular form, the green light outlines, and the laser beams paints a picture that still haunts my nights. This is no ordinary skywatching.
Sharing this story feels like offering you a glimpse behind the curtain — a chance to wonder what, or who, dances silently above our everyday world in patterns too perfect to be mere coincidence. The Vancouver nights, with their concealed spectacle of light and shadow, might just be calling us to look up and listen carefully to the sky’s whispered secrets.