As the night wrapped its velvet cloak over Lombard, Illinois, the sky so clear and dark seemed almost too perfect for the ordinary. My companions and I had been sky watching peacefully, our eyes tracing the familiar dance of satellites gliding around 45 degrees in the southern sky. But just as we prepared to retreat indoors, something extraordinary shattered the calm.
From the west, about 70 degrees above the horizon, a swift and mysterious craft hurtled across the night. White lights gleamed steadily, trailing an eerie orange pellet flame behind it, as though streaking through the void. We fumbled for our cameras, troubled and excited, and began capturing the strange apparition.
Suddenly, with what seemed impossible agility, the object executed a high-speed turn toward the north-northeast. In moments, it wasn’t just one but three distinct crafts locked in formation, their solid white lights contrasting sharply against the obsidian sky. We caught the ghostly orange trails they left behind—engine propellant streams, pulsating like fiery veins.
The spectacle intensified as the formation turned again, this time southward and ascending swiftly, shrinking gradually into the distance until it was but a pinprick, indistinguishable from the stars themselves. Examining the photos later confirmed our eyes’ surreal experience: three separate craft, dancing through the cosmos in a ballet of sheer speed and light.
That night, the skies over Lombard whispered secrets far beyond our understanding, weaving a tale of enigmatic visitors blazing past our mundane world. Such fleeting glimpses provoke awe and lingering questions, urging us to watch upward, forever curious about what lies beyond the stars.