The second incident I find even stranger in retrospect. I was again sleeping in my little cot. I awoke during the middle of the night to look across the rows of sleeping children. I saw pacing back and forth, about two feet in the air above the little girl asleep in her cot, a magnificent glowing angel. This angel was big. He had shiny, long brown hair, flowing white robes, and wings that arched above his shoulders and swept down to his feet. No halo. I was not frightened by this sight. The little girl was one of my only friends, a sweet little thing with a fairly severe facial deformity. I think I felt it was just someone watching over her. At that time, in 1952, I had never been to church, heard bible stories, seen a movie, or a TV show. Hard to imagine isn’t it? I point this out to show what lack of imagination I had at the time. It’s hard to imagine when you have nothing to base your imaginations on. I could imagine having a puppy, good food, someone to adopt me, but not an angel or aliens.

It took me many years to understand what I had seen that night. I thought about it often over the years, but the thought my night visitors might have been aliens didn’t enter my mind until Whitley Strieber’s book, Communion, was published. I saw the cover of that book, and knew immediately I had been visited by aliens. I still don’t know why I thought that, as the Gray alien on the cover did not match the memory of my night time encounter. Of course I bought the book, and proceeded over the next 25 years, to research everything about the UFO phenomenon that I could find.

In 1992 I witnessed an amazing thing while standing at my kitchen sink. It was just before dusk, and the widow above my sink faced the back yard, which sloped sharply away from the house, to the woods that lined our property. Thus, my kitchen window was about level with upper part of the trees, which were about fifty feet away. Coming through the trees, not touching any of the closely spaced branches, was a glowing, orange/red ball. It was about the size of an extra large beach ball. This thing was intelligently guided without a doubt. It flew to within twenty five feet of my window and paused for a moment. It then rose straight up and turned back to fly over the tree tops. It continued rising to make it over the hills a few blocks from us, and then it was out of sight.

While that ball hung there in the air, all sorts of things were screaming through my mind. Where is my camera, is someone else seeing this, I must call my neighbor. I couldn’t move though, as I was mesmerized by what I was seeing. I told my husband and daughter about it when they got home, and it didn’t make much of an impact on them. Two nights later, after dark, my husband and I drove to the store. We took a back road, which had no other traffic. Half way to the store, the glowing ball flew out of the woods and flew parallel to our car until we turned onto a major road leading to the store. That night my husband became a true believer.

I scoured the newspaper for days, listened to the radio and watched the news for any reports of this object. Nothing. Years later I googled for sightings of an orange orb in Cincinnati in 1992, and actually came up with a short article with a picture of the orb high in the sky. There was no explanation for what it was.

Those are my major stories. We have had a few other smaller experiences. One evening my daughter, husband and I were sitting in our bedroom when a glowing orange orb, golf ball size, came through the wall and flew through the room, with a slight bouncing motion. It was about a foot off the floor, and went through the wall to the outside of the house.

Twice, I have seen white orbs trailing closely behind, and then passing jets in the sky.

We are such ordinary people, leading ordinary lives, yet have these strange stories to tell. This makes me believe there are thousands of stories out there waiting to be told.

What is your story?

                                                                                                                                                                                     by  Peggy Shunning