The concept that we are being scrutinized and looked over at this present moment is gripping, fascinating.
There is a notion that one is never really alone. In private corners, buried within the basement of a home, is there a method of maintaining complete and utter peace?
How long can we go before finding the truth?
When I was in 6th grade, I would’ve been about 12 years, I was at school when my dad happened to see what he could only describe as a UFO. He told me of two objects he saw in the sky moving erratically, yet with strategy. With purpose. These objects appeared to be spacecrafts. He took some photos and a video of them with his phone before “zooming away faster than humanly possible.” I got the text when I was at school and became ecstatic to see the footage.
I never got to see it.
Sometime between when my dad took the pictures and when I came home, the video and the pictures were deleted off of his phone. He didn’t do this, of course, and his phone has a lock on it. My mom (who does know the passcode) wouldn’t have deleted those kinds of pictures. No one else was, at the time, home.
We checked his recently deleted, nothing there. My dad knows for a fact that he actually took the pictures and the video and he didn’t just accidentally forget to press the buttons because he showed my mom the footage after capturing it all.
I do not understand what could have happened. No one does. Pictures and videos don’t randomly decide to self-immobilize, someone or something has to make that decision through a basic, noticeable process.
None of the footage has ever resurfaced.