Member-only story
The Silent Visitor
It was the kind of October night where the wind seemed to whisper your name through the trees, and the moon hung low and yellow like an eye that never blinks. We were deep in the woods, huddled around the campfire — my cousin Darren and our friend Alina. Phones off, no signal anyway, just the firelight flickering on our faces and the forest pressing in around us.
Alina was telling a ghost story when the fire dimmed — not flickered, dimmed. Like someone had turned the brightness knob down, we all noticed. Darren tossed on another log, but it barely caught flame. That’s when we heard it.
It’s not a noise, exactly. It’s more like a lack of noise. There is no wind, no crickets, just total, perfect silence.
Then we saw the light.
A soft blue glow appeared through the trees, moving slowly and low like it was searching for something. Or someone. It wasn’t a flashlight unless flashlights had figured out how to float and shimmer like fog. It passed above us, maybe fifty feet up, silent as a shadow. Rectangular. Long. With rows of glowing lights under it, pulsing, almost breathing.
We didn’t move. I couldn’t move. My legs felt like they were underwater — heavy and numb. Alina was gripping my arm so tight I still had faint marks. The thing hovered for a few minutes… then drifted away, disappearing behind the ridge.
