My apologies to my followers. Bad health has hit me once again, this may be my last post for the coming weeks. I hope you have a good laugh at this post. Remember this is just my weird imagination at work. Another weird post is in the pipe line, but first I need to get back on my feet. Thank you for reading my previous posts and those still to come.
“Please note: This story is a work of fiction inspired by the events surrounding the Roswell Incident in 1947. It contains fictional elements and characters.” It is for entertainment only.
The flickering lamplight dances across my hands, mapping the lines of age and weariness. My bones ache – not just with years, but with the weight of something more. They creak like an old house settling into its grave… a fitting metaphor, perhaps. My name is inconsequential. What matters is the other one I carry – a name spoken only in hushed family tones, bound to a truth so profound, so unsettling, it could freeze the blood in your veins if you dared believe it.
The Night the Sky Fell Silent (1947)
Most remember 1947 as the year a weather balloon crashed near Roswell, New Mexico. A simple explanation for a curious event. An attempt to soothe public anxieties. But that’s not what happened. My family knows what happened. We were there. And we weren’t just bystanders – farmers gazing at an oddity in their fields. We were guardians. Keepers of a secret capable of shattering the foundations of reality itself.
That night, under a vast and indifferent sky, something descended – not metal and rubber, but light and grace, a craft defying everything we understood about physics and engineering. It wasn’t an accident; it was a visitation.
First Contact And A Heavy Burden
My father, a man of science tempered with quiet resolve, was among the first to reach the downed craft. He spoke – rarely, and always in hushed tones – of beings composed of pure energy, their eyes burning with an ancient, unsettling wisdom. Technology beyond our wildest imaginings filled the vessel. They came seeking knowledge, he insisted, not conquest. But they also brought a burden: a truth too immense, too dangerous for humanity to comprehend.
We swore an oath that night – a vow sealed in blood and tears – to protect this knowledge from those who would exploit it. We were promised safety, protection… promises easily made, rarely kept in the world of secrets.
The Price of Silence
The world moves on, oblivious to the currents swirling beneath its surface. But silence comes at a cost. My siblings… they vanished. One by one. Each death conveniently labeled an accident, a heart attack, a tragic misfortune. But I knew better. They were silenced. Their voices extinguished before they could utter the truth.
Whispers circulated – “the elite” had discovered our secret. A chilling realization: those we believed would protect us were now our enemies. The guardians became the hunted. It’s a terrifying thought, isn’t it? To realize you are standing against forces far more powerful than yourself.
Reverse Engineering Reality
Decades have passed. I’ve watched the world spin on its axis, a carefully constructed illusion masking a darker reality. I’ve seen the evidence – hushed meetings in smoke-filled rooms, clandestine deals struck with figures operating beyond the reach of law. They are reverse engineering the technology recovered from that night, twisting it to serve their own agendas while keeping humanity deliberately uninformed.
An uneasy alliance has been forged. A pact between those who govern us and those who arrived from among the stars. Resources – our precious minerals, even our bodies – are exchanged for knowledge, all conducted under layers of secrecy. What price will we ultimately pay for this silent bargain?
A Dying Whisper
My time is dwindling. My body betrays me, my mind clouded by years and the weight of unspeakable truths. But I refuse to carry this burden into oblivion. The world deserves to know. They deserve to understand the silent pact made in shadows, the forces manipulating our destiny.
I don’t expect to be believed. My story will likely be dismissed as the ramblings of an old woman lost in her memories. But that doesn’t matter anymore. The truth has a way of surfacing, even if it takes centuries. For now, my legacy will be this: a whisper on the wind, a flicker of light in the darkness – a reminder that what we see is rarely the whole story.
Note:
In truth, years later in 1994 the air force admitted that the recovered material was from a U.S. spy balloon – part of Project Mogul, an attempt to monitor anticipated nuclear tests by the Soviet Union. To obscure the purpose and source of the debris, the army initially reported it as a conventional weather balloon. Their retraction sparked numerous conspiracy theories which have evolved over time. (Shahdaroba 2025)