It was a very cool and clear night in the small Northern Michigan town of Roseland, a sleepy rural community of only a few thousand residents. Given that it was early springtime, the leaves remained hiding and slumbering from the trees, a fresh batch of frost began coating the ground, and a thirty-five degree chill permeating through the air in the cloudless skies.

Inside the cozy and comfortable confines of the Roseland Police Department, all was quiet on every front in the advancing hours of this Tuesday night, but then again this was a place where the action hardly picked up at all during the weekend.

Despite being far from a honey flowing, buzzing beehive of activity, this was a very suitable and enjoyable position of employment for Thurston Shaughnessy, a young and humble thirty-three year old police officer with wavy blonde hair and boyish looks that was well respected in the office and throughout the town for that matter. Standing a mere five feet ten inches, with a weight of somewhere in the neighborhood of one hundred and seventy pounds, and possessing an average build, Shaughnessy was lacking in the prototypical frame and physical attributes that one may envision as being commonplace at the academy. Yet as any man or woman in blue can attest to, looks can be deceiving and not everything can be measured in terms of size and strength.

“Tigers going to win the pennant this year?” asks an associate officer to Shaughnessy.

“Not if their Spring Training play has anything to do with it. Then again just how valuable is that time spent down in the fun and sun worth anyways?” asks Shaughnessy as the casual conversation is interrupted with the ringing of the telephone.

“Allow me,” offers Shaughnessy, reaching for the telephone as watches his associate reach for a deep sip of coffee in a not so subtle manner.

“Roseland Police Department,” declares Shaughnessy.

“Yeah, hello? I just done saw a ship of some kind flying over my yard, spacecraft or somethin’. A UFO, and I figured I best report it to yous,” explains the caller.

“State your name please sir,” orders Shaughnessy.

“This is Fred Jacobs, my address is 1245 Culligan Way,” answers the caller.

“Tell you what Mr. Jacobs, my shift here is about to end, I’ll come on by there and investigate the matter myself if you wish to file a proper report. Okay, see you soon,” declares Shaughnessy, hanging up the phone.

“Just when I thought the night was dragging on, we’ve got ourselves a UFO sighting,” cracks Shaughnessy.

“Let’s make a wager. If the aliens you find are green, white, silver, or grey, I win. Aside from that, I’ll give you the field,” jokes the associate.

“You better give me odds since you took all the best colors. Goodnight Ernie,” announces Shaughnessy, stepping out of the police station en route to investigate the sighting...

2: Prologue

The subject matter at hand tonight involves a concept that any aficionado of science fiction is undoubtedly familiar with, the idea of unidentified flying objects so numerous in written literature and film and prevalent in other pop culture mediums as to be reduced to the familiar delineation abbreviation of the UFO. The prospect that extraterrestrial guests have visited Earth is a notion that dates back thousands of years, although it was the Roswell incident of 1947 that unleashed a flurry of science fiction novels and stories, and alleged accounts of sightings that have persisted ever since.

From military testing to lapses in judgment regarding standard aircraft, ignorance regarding meteorological features to extraterrestrial spies watching from the skies, several theories have been littered about attempting to explain the phenomenon. For the first time ever, we are going to reveal to you the truth of the matter. So please put your critical thinking cap on underneath your tin foil hat, and stay tuned...

3: Chapter 2

Good evening sir, Thurston Shaughnessy, Fred Jacobs I presume?” asks the officer.

“Yes sir,” replies the man.

“Now what exactly happened this evening?” asks the officer.

“Come on over yonder, I was sittin’ right here on my back porch indulging in some sippin’ whiskey, when I see this UFO hovering over my field, right out here,” reports Jacobs.

“What kind of UFO was it sir?” asks the officer.

“It was very big, and bright, and green. A giant green pentagon, which began growing and sending off a brilliant green light, I thought I was transformed to the Vegas strip it was so full of neon,” describes Jacobs.

“How long was it here?” asks the officer.

“I would say about five long minutes. Wait, make that ten, no scratch that, it was upwards of fifteen minutes, it felt like much more though,” describes Jacobs.

“Anybody else see the flying craft?” asks Shaughnessy.

“Well isn’t it your job to find that out for yourself? I’m just one witness, and let me tell you I’m a darn good one, even testified in court a few years back when I was in a car accident with the truck here. What do you think this is?” asks Jacobs.

“Well without digging too deeply yet into this ongoing investigation it is very difficult to say. There are a lot of low flying planes flying through these skies,” explains Shaughnessy.

“This ain’t no plane, friend of mine by the name of Barney served in the United States Air Force and I know a jet from a UFO, and that you can set your watch to!” explains Jacobs.

“Sir, how many beverages did you happen to drink this evening, indulge in, as you said?” asks Shaughnessy.

“Well let’s see now, I had me a six pack starting at six o’clock this evenin’ after I got home from Greasers, where I work as a fry cook, and I’ve had...oh gosh about three quarters of this here pint. Don’t get the wrong idea though, I’m a man that can hold my alcohol with the best of them, and I never drink and drive, that’s why I’ve got the old woman inside to drive me around when I need a lift!” explains Jacobs.

“I’ll keep you posted on what we find here,” remarks Shaughnessy, skeptical at the account of the man after admitting that he has been drinking alcoholic beverages the entire evening. “Probably just a meteor burning up in the atmosphere, you know those suckers can get pretty bright in the night sky”, declares Shaughnessy in a snarky tone, leaving the home of Fred Jacobs.

4: Chapter 3

“So were they green or silver or what?” asks Ernie the associate officer the following evening at the police station.

“Let me tell you something, do you believe in the possibility of intoxication via second hand alcohol consumption? If so I should write myself a ticket for driving under the influence, our so-called ‘witness’ had an aroma of whisky on his breath so strong that it burned my nostrils and gave me a buzz on my drive home,” explains Shaughnessy.

“What about this spacecraft of his?” asks Ernie.

“I’m going to write the incident off as a drunken mistake of a plane of some sort, the guy could barely stand, and he was stumbling over his vocabulary like a bull in a china shop,” explains Shaughnessy as the phone rings.

“Roseland Police Department,” answers Shaughnessy.

“Yes, good evening, this is Mrs. Edna Moses, I would like to report a strange sight that I just witnessed on my street,” explains an elderly woman on the extension.

“Go ahead ma’am,” replies Shaughnessy, intrigued about receiving a similar phone call as he did the previous night.

“Could you please send an officer to my home, I am a bit frightened, my address is 435 Aster Boulevard,” she explains.

“We may have another sighting. I want you to learn all that you can about this Edna Moses that lives at 435 Aster Boulevard,” orders Shaughnessy.

“Will do. Maybe your whisky sipping friend isn’t so crazy after all,” laughs Ernie, as Thurston Shaughnessy departs just like before.

“Good evening ma’am, my name is officer Shaughnessy,” announces the investigator.

“Thank you for coming so quickly, my husband passed away and I am so frightened. Come in, come in, would you care for some tea?” asks Edna Moses.

“Why yes, a glass would warm me right up on this cold evening, thank you,” acknowledges the officer in a polite manner. “Now what precisely did you see earlier this evening?”

“I was on my way home from the library. I am retired now, but I do spend some of my free time volunteering there. I got to Poplar Street just as it was turning dark, and I saw a ship flying overhead my car. Unable to shake it in my wake, it followed me home! Just as I arrived in my driveway, I ran into my home as quickly as possible, Why, I’m not even sure that I put my car in park!” she explains.

“What did this ship look like, what shape, colors, any details that you can recall would be of great help in our investigation,” explains Shaughnessy.

“Let me see now, it was very bright, and blue, like the lake, blue like the lake when the sun is shining brightly down upon it. Can’t quite recall the shape of the ship or how big it was, but it was right overhead, God forbid I thought it was going to land on my car and crush me to death. It shone a light towards me as I got out of my car, I felt blinded, and although my vision is quite poor and is barely adequate to drive, I couldn’t see a thing, my eyes were covered in a sea of blue light. Luckily I could feel the granite steps underneath me here, but oh the buzzing was loud, it hurt my ears, my ears of which are hard of hearing as it is,” describes old lady Moses, rambling on.

“When I reached my doorstep, the loud buzzing sound hurting my ears and the bright lights hurting my eyes disappeared, and the ship was gone. I locked the door and called you immediately,” she describes.

“Have you ever witnessed anything like this before?” asks Shaughnessy.

“Well, similar sights here and there through the years, yes, thanks to my, well, condition that I am on medication for, Schizophrenia,” explains Moses.

“Are you taking your medication as scheduled ma’am?” asks Shaughnessy.

“Well, not at the moment, I was doing better and it tends to make me drowsy,” she explains.

“Both myself and your doctors would like you to take your medication from here on out ma’am, so that we can avoid these incidents,” orders Shaughnessy.

“Well I don’t think it was from an absence of taking my prescription that I saw those lights!” cries Moses.

“Ma’am that may very well be true. I am going to do everything in my power to find out. In the meantime you resume taking your medication. Goodnight Mrs. Moses,” acknowledges Shaughnessy with the tip of his cap.

“What have you got for me?” Shaughnessy asks his associate upon his return to the police station.

“You’re going to love this. Upon investigation, this Edna Moses is on a heavy prescription for Schizophrenia. While vacationing last summer, she made similar claims to the Alpena police department, citing a light from a ship following her around. They found nothing, and nobody else reported anything,” explains Ernie.

“Two night ago I would have written the whole thing off, but there does exist the Jacobs account from last night,” explains Shaughnessy.

“What do you think, that the two incidents are related? Thurston, nobody else witnessed anything. If an alien craft were following this woman in her car, somebody else would have noticed it, even in a town as small as this one. You said for yourself that Jacobs was a drunkard and it’s been established that Grandma Moses here has endured psychotic episodes before, this is not her first rodeo,” explains Ernie.

“Still, just to be safe we had better do our service and investigate the manner, we should be able to clear things up within the next several hours. Turn off the ballgame, it will be on tape delay anyways,” orders Shaughnessy, shutting off the television set as the two get to work making phone calls.

Reaching out to other authorities in order to determine whether there is indeed a correlation, the two inquire with the armed forces to see if there was military activity being conducted, finding not a trace of any experimentation or operation within hundreds of miles. Checking in with emergency crews, homeland security and other government agencies to ascertain whether any helicopters were hovering nearby or planes ascending, descending or even crashing, they find nothing. The National Weather Service and NOAA inform the offices that there are no weather balloons in the vicinity, and the forecast does not call for any meteor showers that night or anytime soon.

“That’s it Thurston, nothing is going on. There is no spacecraft or helicopters hovering about, no planes, trains and automobiles shaped like green pentagons and flashing blue lights on unsuspecting motorists. Above all else, we have not received one more phone call alleging a similar sighting,” explains Ernie.

“You’re right. If they did see anything, I assume it was a satellite or maybe a shooting star. Those have been known to slice their way through the heavens even when it’s not falling stars in the atmosphere. What we most likely have is a drunken fool and a foolish old woman putting other people at risk by not consuming her medication. The next call we’re liable to here is from an accident at her hands. The only conclusion to draw at this moment is that the events are a coincidence, and are simply unrelated.

5: Chapter 4

The prevailing winds have seemingly painted a picture as clear as the calm nighttime skies overhead, although those winds would soon change, as the wind often does.

The following night, Thursday evening around 10:15 p.m., while driving his truck along a dirt road located along the outskirts of the town, a middle-aged man with a thick beard and moustache tosses his cigarette outside of his window, as he notices a huge ship hovering above his vehicle.

“The hell is this?” he asks himself, slowing down his car and applying the firm pressure of his foot on the brakes as he slowly removes his red cap.

Mesmerized by the aqua blue-green hue emanating from the ship and radiating throughout the contours of the one hundred foot tall floating aircraft, the eyes of the man focus in on the dazzling spectacle before him, reducing him to a trance like state of being. Suddenly the ship begins shooting magnificent beams of light down upon him and his vehicle, blue and green beads raining upon his vehicle and splattering an array of light residue throughout his car as well as the dirt road and the tall grass in the fields nearby.

“They’re attacking me!” the man shouts, attempting to fire up his engine but frustrated as the car that has grown dead is refusing to start. Ducking for cover as a large beam of blue light pours itself over the front windshield, the man abandons his vehicle, racing into the fields and doing all that he can to avoid the laser beams coming at him from above, streams of light that are clearly intent on striking the man.

“Help me! Help me!” he cries aloud, screaming in agony as one of the streams of green land upon his left arm, blanketing his extremity and coating it in an oozing substance that slightly burns his flesh.

Reaching a nearby home, the man pounds on the door, screaming for help as the frightened residents call the police to report an attempted burglary.

Arriving ten minutes later is Thurston Shaughnessy, expecting to find the scene of an attempted breaking and entering, instead finding the man cowering in a storm drain at the side of a house.

“Officer! Thank goodness you’re here. I was driving along the road over there, when this thing came from out of nowhere, some UFO thingy floating high in the sky. My car wouldn’t start and they were attacking me! They were shooting lasers at me, green and blue beams of light and one touched me, landing on my arm here, and it burns!” the man cries, rambling on in his unofficial report.

“Slow down sir. You’re telling me that you saw a flying aircraft hovering over your car, a brilliant, bright light floating above you, serenading bursts of energy of some sort down upon you?” asks Shaughnessy.

“The man is crazy as a bat!” shouts the husband of the home as the couple stands nearby.

“Sir, were you under the influence of any alcoholic beverage or intoxicating substance, medication, anything along those lines?” asks Shaughnessy.

“Okay fine, yes I had a few drinks, maybe one too many. I have been on medication for the past six months for depression, anti-depressants, but they don’t always do the trick and I wanted to engage in some fun with the boys at the bar. I’m a janitor, I never get to have as much fun as I used to, so I had a few drinks, but this was no trip or hallucination, I can assure you that! Take me in if you will, just please help me!” cries the man, rubbing his painful left arm as Thurston Shaughnessy investigates, finding nothing.

“You better come with me sir,” Shaughnessy declares, leading the man towards his squad car. “Rest assured sir, I believe you. There have been other reports of some flying aircraft in the area, two sightings in the past two nights to be precise. Whether it is some military testing craft or what it is, I cannot be certain,” describes Shaughnessy, as the man steps into the backseat of the car.

“Aliens sir, these were aliens. I may not be the brightest man around but dangit I ain’t never seen a ship like that one,” reports the witness as Shaughnessy begins to drive back towards the station, attempting to wrap his mind around just what is happening in Roseland, given yet another similar incident being reported.

6: Chapter 5

Back at the station, the man files a complete report, and is sent for medical testing, but regarding his psychological state of being as well as his physical health in the wake of this alleged attack.

“We’ve got a problem on our hands Ernie, these people are seeing something. You may be familiar with the term ‘once is a fluke, twice is a trend, three times a habit?’ That’s what we’ve got here on our hands,” describes Thurston Shaughnessy.

“The part that grinds my gears is how this man is related to the other two. Fred Jacobs was drunk as a mule, Edna Moses may have believed herself to be one, given her lack of medication, and now we have this fellow, a man that quit his anti-depressants and consumed a rather copious amount of alcohol himself this evening. In all my years at this station, I don’t remember seeing this many incidents, in fact I don’t remember any such incidents of any UFO sightings, and now we receive three in consecutive nights?” asks Ernie.

“These events must be related. What leaves me stunned is how we are only receiving one phone call per incident, why are there not more people seeing what is occurring. It gets very dark here at night; from the hills of our fair town you can see the horizon stretch on for miles. Two incidents involved the road, where surely others cars or pedestrians or witnesses would have experienced something,” explains Shaughnessy.

“So what is your new theory in light of this latest sample of evidence? Some rogue top-secret military experiment? FBI, CIA seeking somebody down covertly, KGB maybe? At this point we might as well throw every option down on the table,” explains Ernie.

“From the sounds of each of our distinguished panel of witnesses, all three were frightened by whatever it was they saw. Two of them claimed they were attacked, and they were no doubt terrified. Isn’t it funny how the people that report aliens and UFOs always happen to go by the name of Billy Jo Bob and live out in the sticks? It’s never Professor Smith from Ivy League University. It’s always some uneducated hick clamoring for attention, somebody with as tenuous a grasp on the English language as probably any alien does on any ship in the atmosphere. They’re always of similar temperament as well, under the influence of alcohol, drugs, medication, or lack of medication, psychological issues, emotional stress,” explains Shaughnessy.

“Are you turning back with your analysis then? Believing the three to be separate and random incidents of chaos unfolding before us?” asks Ernie.

“Well, going by the laws of probability and logic, there must be a correlation. Whatever triggered this response was no shooting star, satellite or weather balloon. Is it possible that some helicopter was shining down a spotlight on them in hopes of discerning a fugitive, and through their diminished capacities they were unable to separate the truth about these UFOs from fiction? Perhaps. Still, none of the three recognized a familiar sight or sound with regards to the aircraft, only recognizing colors and lights and noises, most of which were generally vague in their explanations. Secret military aircraft testing civilians, or alien craft targeting them, until we receive further evidence, I’m afraid that we’ll just have to continue to wonder. We may never find out the answers to this case, or many others just like these...” ponders Shaughnessy in frustration.

At roughly the same time, on the other side of town, a college professor is driving home with his wife, when he notices a spectacular green ship hovering high above the road.

“Honey, what is that?” asks the wife, as the professor slows the car down, pulling over to the side of the road.

“Why it almost looks like, a spaceship of some sort, although that sounds too unlikely, there must be some other explanation, possibly a military aircraft or experimental device. We are out in the middle of nowhere,” he explains.

“But the town is so close to us!” whispers the wife, as the professor’s eyes remain locked on the ship floating effortlessly one hundred feet above in the atmosphere, much like a boat wading and riding along the waves of a smooth sea. As the ship appears to shift gears, stabilizing into position, the aesthetics of the ship appear to follow suit, unleashing a magnificent and colorful array of light bands flashing about. Sending beams of light to the ground below, the couple watches as the aircraft distributes a fluorescent glowing collection of rainbows, splashing all around them.

“Whatever it is, I can tell you I have never encountered anything like this before in my life. It is so fantastic that it reminds me an unidentified flying object from out of the science fiction stories I used to read as a child, the magazines that are locked in the trunk upstairs in the attic. This sight before us is like something out of a cinema,” explains the professor, as the UFO abruptly disappears, fading into the night as the two look on in astonishment.

“Did you see that?” asks the wife.

“Yes I did, it vanished as if cloaked in invisibility, as if they didn’t want us to see it. They may have saw us, we had better get out of here,” explains the professor, attempting to start the engine and failing just as the janitor had done earlier.

“Honey, let’s go!” shouts his wife.

“I’m trying! It won’t start!” he cries. “Hopefully the energy from that ship didn’t short out the car, whether it be from some type of electrical current, or worse some sort of radiation or other unknown form of energy,” declares the professor, abstaining from flooding the engine, before the car finally starts up, just as the ship returns, hovering merely feet off of the ground, directly in front of the car, as the professor and his wife begin to scream in horror. Blinded in the stunning light of the ship invading their senses and surroundings, a feeling of weightlessness takes over as the car begins floating off of the ground, rising ever so steadily as if the vehicle is being drawn into the ship. Approximately fifteen feet or so off of the ground the light disappears, fading away into obscurity as gravity retains its grip on the car, which comes crashing back down to the road below, startling the couple still in shock as they brace for impact, fending off the inertia and avoiding whiplash.

Fearful that the wheels or axles may be damaged is no match for the fear of remaining within the vicinity of the unknown flying craft. Placing the car into reverse and slamming on the gas, the professor wastes little time in detecting his surroundings to ensure that there are no cars located behind him. Turning the car around and shifting gears, he slams on the gas once more and hightails it out of the area.

“Honey, what on Earth was that?” asks the wife, as the couple drives home.

“All I know is that was no science experiment, or weather balloon, rogue sampling of aurora borealis or other miscellaneous atmospheric phenomena at play. That ship was too pristine, quiet and brilliant in structure and maneuverability to not belong to the military, of either our government, or another government...or from another world,” explains the professor, questioning aloud what it could have been. “Either way, we were not supposed to stumble upon that secret, whatever it was, from whoever it was. We cannot tell anybody about this, no family or friends, co-workers, colleagues, and certainly not the papers.”

7: Chapter 6

Back on the lonely stretch of road is the brilliant ship, still hovering over the ground, before releasing its suspended momentum and ascending into the atmosphere with the rapid pace that is far beyond the technological capability of any military aircraft from this planet.

Inside the command center, two pilots are seated that look identical to two human teenagers, emitting a noise that sounds awfully similar to what we humans would identify as laughter. Speaking to each other in an unknown language characteristic of a gentle persistence of humming tones and vibrations, subtitles providing for an English translation will be displayed at this time.

“I haven’t had this much fun in months,” hums one to another.

“Absolutely! These aliens here on this planet sure are dimwitted, too stupid to even retrieve as pets!” replies the other one with a soft buzz.

“This is true, but they would make great pet food for our friends back home, I wonder what our superiors are going to do with this species?” asks the first extraterrestrial.

“Who cares, this isn’t our planet, and this isn’t our problem. No big loss either way. We have more important things to worry about, like getting more Badroxyate, the night is young!” replies the second, referring to their drink of choice, a beverage similar to intoxicating and inebriating qualities as alcohol.

“Indeed, nothing beats getting drunk on Badroxyate and flying around here, purposely inducing fear in Earthlings with our little toys,” laughs the first pilot.

“Juvenile, but fun!” replies the second.

The adolescent hijinks of the two teenage equivalents hit a snag as a third being appears on a screen in front of the two, a figure that appears to be most enraged.

“Jeiruladlkjgh! What are you doing! You pledged that you would be scouting some desirable locations in this galaxy and I find you ‘spotlighting’ Earthlings? Worst of all, you broke the rules. If you’re going to spotlight the Earthling race, you need to only choose to do so towards those that are acceptable, much like only keeping the big goonishes when we go fishes. For the last time, we only spotlight Earthlings with the requisite low intelligence quotient levels, or the requisite high blood alcohol levels in their system. You can substitute alcohol for drugs or psychotic disorders!” the being explains.

“I know dad, we’re sorry,” explains the first teenage pilot.

“Son, just remember, if the two of you are going to joyride, be safe and only bother isolated Earthlings with low I.Q. levels who have been consuming alcohol, in order for the Earth authorities to doubt authenticity of documented sightings, and allow us to continue to go undetected, while myself and other adults continue our Earthly operation. I don’t wish to get in trouble for you actions! Did not believe I needed to repeat all of this to you yet again, but your actions left me little choice,” explains the father.

“One last thing. You really should not drink Badroxyate and fly, I don’t know how many times I need to tell you,” remarks the father, as the two begrudgingly accept the orders.

“Teenagers!” declares the father aloud in frustration, shaking his head before the screen shuts off.

“Old people, like they were never young once? Come on, let’s go home,” insists the second pilot, as the ship shoots high into the atmosphere before lying off into space.

Driving down below on a dark and lonely road towards home, officer Thurston Shaughnessy steps out of his car, glancing up at the heavens. “Did I just see what I think I saw?” he asks aloud into the now empty nighttime sky. “Nah, it must have been a satellite,” he declares, getting back into the car and driving home...

8: Epilogue

Provided with a king sized slice of a potpourri of paranoia propagating extraterrestrial paraphernalia, remember that like most anything else in this universe, what you make of the evidence and the theories at your disposal, as well as something as insignificant as this story remains up to your better judgment.

For the myriad of reports of unidentified flying objects coming in all shapes and sizes and colors and whizzing about our atmosphere covertly all across our world as well as time and space, it does beg the question, in fact the countless eyewitness accounts throughout the ages supply the ammunition and ingredients to foster a breeding ground worth of questions.

So, just what is there to make of it? Nothing more than meteors and shooting stars? Very solid explanation. A plane, satellite or weather balloon mistaken for an alien ship? Highly probable. Top-secret military aircraft or weaponry testing? Unlikely, but not improbable. Alien craft surveying our species or “spotlight” us while on a joyride? Highly unlikely but far from impossible. The limits are what you make of them, and the possibilities, as unlikely as they may sometimes seem, are no more than a set of mathematical statistics, leaving most anything to chance...