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From the deteriorating mind of Captain Thomas Mantel (1948) while in pursuit of an alleged UFO:

.it looks like a gigantic celestial jellyfish hanging from the sky! It is taunting me. I do not feel threatened at this point. I feel extremely compelled to go to its mystifying beauty. It appears to be floating like an angel beckoning me to come home. I just passed 22,000' and still climbing without any laboring of the engine. I feel completely relaxed gazing at this serene river of flowing metal. Its skin is of metallic nature with the soothing color of Grandma Mantel's grey hair. This thing is much too big to be one of those Foo Fighters we saw over cold Normandy skies in 1944. This is amazing. I cannot tell if I am gaining on it or if it is descending on me, but the object is massive and is growing. It has a smooth wavy texture and looks like silk drapes confidently blowing in the wind. It would appear to be breathing, something I am struggling to do at this altitude. But something tells me not to worry.

Ethereal intoxication must be causing me to fabricate this thing impeding my better judgment. I know I should terminate this pursuit, as I do not have supplemental oxygen to sustain consciousness at this altitude. But I have lost control of my actions. I am paralyzed by its splendor.I must define this thing. I must conclude. Closure. Logic is submitting to stubborn confusion as I am suspended here like an unpicked ripened tomato in a confidential garden.

I feel so cold and completely stoic. My watch has frozen in time. 15:18. I can no longer hear the sound of the propellers anymore, yet I am still climbing, the altimeter is pinned at 33,000' and I am now approaching the object at an impossible 90-degree vector. The airspeed indicator is static at a curious zero knots. It would appear as though I am getting pulled toward the object by some unknown force. I can now see a warped reflection of my P51 in the under belly of the object. I have a sensation of being completely weightless or like I am in free fall. There is no sound. Silence has crept in my head and deafened my ears. I have a strong urge to reach out and stroke the strange metal fabric. The only description that comes to mind is muted transparent aluminum foil

There appears to be obscure yet, familiar memories forming in the metal curtains. I recognize something or someone. I can see reflections in the minds of my deceased ancestors.Chilled electricity now permeates the cockpit and a low frequency hum shakes my bones. This is tremendous. Esoteric. Oh my God there are people aboard that thing

Learn more about this author, Marc Melville.
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