Witness to the Unknown: The Night I Saw a UFO
A First-Hand Account of an Unexplained Encounter That Left More Questions Than Answers
In 2005, on a beautiful summer night in Southern California, I was on the roof deck of my friend’s house in Hermosa Beach, sipping a cocktail with my friend Anna while overlooking the Pacific Ocean. We were deep in conversation when the door flew open, and the quiet rooftop suddenly became filled with our friends' loud, excited voices, who were gearing up for a night out. The energy in the house was electric. For context, our friends had just sold their social media company for half a billion dollars, and we were all going out to celebrate. “THE DRIVERS ARE HERE. LET’S GOOOO - PARTY TIME!” one friend shouted. This night wasn’t our first night of celebrations, so Anna and I were content with the mellow rooftop vibes. We told our friends to go ahead, and that we’d join them once they settled on a spot—knowing them, they’d hop between countless bars before landing somewhere they liked.
There were a few hammocks on the roof deck, so after our friends left, Anna and I settled into separate hammocks, lying next to each other but facing opposite directions so we could talk to each other while gazing up at the sky. Midway through Anna’s story, I suddenly interrupted her, exclaiming, “LOOK, A SHOOTING STAR!” I didn’t think she’d be able to turn around in time to see it, but she did, and we both quickly stood up, captivated by the sight.
As we stood up, we realized it wasn’t just one shooting star but two, side by side. “Oh my gosh, I’ve never seen two shooting stars at the same time,” Anna said. “Me neither; this is unbelievable,” I replied. The stars were close together, identical in speed, brightness, and color, leaving a greenish trail as they zipped across the sky.
Having seen several shooting stars, I was used to them eventually flickering as they burned out, but these two didn’t flicker once. They blazed steadily, streaking across the night sky with an unwavering glow that seemed to last forever. “Wow, this is so crazy,” Anna said as we gazed up with our mouths and eyes wide open.
As we stood there, watching the stars streak across the night sky, they began heading toward the horizon, making me wonder what would happen next. Are they going to smash into the ocean? I thought. They were moving so fast and getting so low that a collision seemed inevitable. We watched in awe, our jaws practically on the ground, as the two lights descended dangerously close to the ocean. Then, suddenly, they stopped on a dime, hovering motionless just above the water, emitting a faint, golden glow that quickly faded within seconds.
Suddenly, the two objects turned on a bright white light, resembling the powerful floodlights used by commercial fishing ships to illuminate the water. “Wait, can shooting stars do that?” Anna asked, her voice filled with disbelief. “How did they just stop like that?” she added. I stood there, speechless, staring out over the ocean. “Holy shit, no, they can’t just stop like that. I don’t know what’s going on,” I finally replied, moving closer to the edge of the roof deck for a better view. My heart pounded as we stood in stunned silence, watching these two brilliant lights hover over the water. I kept muttering, “Holy shit,” over and over, unable to comprehend what we were witnessing or what might happen next.
Moments later, both objects suddenly went dark. Then, just seconds after that, they both shot across the sky in the same formation, only heading in a completely different direction, streaking across the entire night sky in 3-4 seconds. “What the fuck? I’ve never seen shooting stars change directions like that,” Anna said, her voice trembling with shock. “Those weren’t shooting stars,” I replied quickly, my mind racing. “Oh my god, what should we do?” she asked, her eyes wide with fear.
My phone rang—our friends from the bar were calling to ask where we were. Still in complete shock, I answered, hoping that sharing what we had just witnessed might calm my nerves. But I quickly realized that no words could capture the gravity of the situation. Further, trying to convey something terrifying to someone drinking at a noisy bar felt utterly impossible. I quickly ended the call, eager to process the shock with Anna, when I noticed the two objects hurtling back toward us at unbearable speed.
“LOOK,” I said to Anna, pointing at the sky. I had never felt so vulnerable in my entire life as I did with those two lights racing toward us. I felt so small and insignificant as we stared at them, but before I could even process what was happening, they had already blasted past us, vanishing into the night sky without a sound. We stood there in complete disbelief, not knowing what to say. The first thought that came to my mind was that I needed to report this to someone immediately, but my next thought was, who would even know what to do with this information?
I was once in a swaying high-rise building during an earthquake; that’s the only experience that left me feeling such vulnerability, but this experience was significantly more intense. I couldn’t imagine going out to a bar feeling so shaken up. After spending a few more minutes with Anna, I decided to skip the bar and head home. She quickly replied that she would do the same.
On the drive home, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I needed to report what I’d seen. Although it seemed like a homeland security issue, I decided to call the police since they were easily accessible. After I described the situation to the operator, she mentioned I wasn’t the only one who had reported it. She said she would inform her supervisor, but there wasn’t much they could do about it (obviously).
About a week later, a friend called to tell me she had seen a news story about “strange lights in the sky,” with an eyewitness describing precisely what Anna and I had witnessed. While I was confident in what I saw that night, knowing others had seen the same thing brought a small amount of comfort to an unsettling experience.
After witnessing this, I can’t help but chuckle when I hear scientists suggest that we’re the only life in the universe. I’m convinced there’s less than a one percent chance those two crafts were human-made; otherwise, someone would have already surpassed Elon Musk, flying supplies to Mars in seconds. Additionally, if this were human technology, I’d expect it to be deployed by the military already.
If you’re fascinated by the night sky, I highly encourage you to visit the Mojave Desert. I lived there for a couple of years, and it’s one of the best stargazing spots in the world. With its vast, open landscape and minimal light pollution, the night sky comes alive with countless stars and celestial events. While I haven’t seen anything quite like what I witnessed in California, there’s always something captivating happening under a clear, dark sky in the desert. The best time to visit is during the Perseid meteor shower, which peaks every year around August 10th. If you spend just a few minutes looking up, you’re almost guaranteed to see shooting stars—I’ve spotted as many as 20-30 in an hour. With all the satellites, the space station, and more, stargazing in the Mojave is truly a breathtaking experience.
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What an experience! I have never seen a UFO, but coincidentally, I was just yesterday sharing a memory with a friend, of a cross country drive during one August many years ago. We were driving across Nevada at night and were bedazzled by the Perseids, something I had never witnessed in all my years in central NYS. That was the highlight of the whole 6,000 mile round trip!
This an amazing incident! And rather terrifying! Thank you for sharing it.