The Proposition
This was early July, I believe, 2026. I write this now to be open and honest.
I had just locked up the dogs. The walk back in the cool summer air would take perhaps two minutes. Our little kennel lay on a short knoll in the back of the property, only a few acres, but hidden within the woods and hollows of Appalachia. Black woods surrounded our postage stamp of property like a nest. It was quite dark that night thanks to the tiny slice of moon available. A very clear night, but lit only by the thin sliver and the stars.
What a good night for stars, though. I took my time on the worn path back to our little single floor ranch and stood addressing my nightly moment of relaxation. I did that often, when appropriate, of course. Nothing serious, just a nice break at the end of the day, the chores finished, my wife and children getting ready for bed. If I wait for just the right moment I’ll see the living room light turn off as my wife ushers the the little boys towards their beds.
The sky was fantastic, clearer than usual. I’ve always enjoyed stargazing and unfortunately, in our buzzing electrical world, sometimes the act is lost among the reflections of parking lot lights and blinking air traffic. This night, however, I could just barely make out the billowing arm of the Milky Way as it lie frozen across the sky.
At first, I thought I spotted a satellite. When I was younger, my father had shown me how to look just a little harder and make out the moving stars. Sometimes they blinked, sometimes not. Back then, It was just the odd one here and there. These days the sky was constantly dotted with movement, manmade false stars slowly cutting across the night sky. Lately I had heard that people were calling in strange reports lines of lights moving in a train across the darkness, not realizing it was just a new cable company deploying lines of satellites for telecoms.
I watched this little light, as it moved across the sky, a tiny blue silver pinprick on my left, heading upwards over my head. It gathered my attention for only a few seconds, and then I gazed elsewhere. I always check in on my old friend Orion to my right, as he had been the first constellation I learned. Finding his three star studded belt, I continued my moment to find the tiny dot now crossing Orion.
Strange, I thought, it must be another satellite. I looked back to my left where the dot had been to realize I couldn’t find it anymore, it should have been just above me. Back at Orion, I searched, and found nothing, and quickly scanning the sky, I realized I couldn’t find any movement at all.
I stared in disbelief for a moment. Surely, I must have just lost sight of them both. The sky was still, save for a jetliner crossing the dark, blinking red, far off near the horizon. I took a moment to collect myself, rubbed my eyes, and looked back to the house to see the lights had gone out. In bed already, I missed it. I began to walk again and looked back to say goodnight to the old shield bearer, and I found myself transfixed the minute I saw it.
Four stars. Orion’s belt had four stars.
I waited. I looked. I rubbed my eyes and looked again, still four. At the moment when I began to doubt my sanity, the point at which I began to tell myself that perhaps there had been four my entire life, something happened. There was a pulse, a soundless blink, the world flashed like the bulb of a camera so quickly that I could not have been sure it happened. As I was transfixed on the sky, it seemed that the flash had come from the direction of Orion, but I could not be sure.
As I attempted to hold my wits, one of the lights of Orion’s belt began to move. A slow spiral, down and to the right. I will remember it as long as I live, the second star from the right on his belt. Ever so slowly, it rotated downward and grew in intensity. The air was still and no sound was on the night air. I watched, almost spellbound, as the light grew and slowly spiraled down and back up again, clockwise. The thought broke through in my confusion, that this thing was not far away in space, but coming down from the sky. My interest held me fast. There was no fear, only curiosity. The light continued. For some reason, I did not have a thought to move. In fact, I felt quite pleasant. Looking back, ruminating on this story again, I don’t know why I didn’t run, or get out of sight at the very least.
Again, there was flash, but this time, glaring light remained around the star. I looked down to see that myself and the ground around me had been Illuminated with a pale blue light, and in taking stock of the situation I could also see shadows shifting the the trees around the yard. The light was far closer than I had thought, and illuminating the entire hollow where our little farm sat.
How could no one else be seeing this? I wondered. My single neighbor in the hollow, perhaps? The houses down the road? Someone else somewhere had to have seen it. It was getting so bright. Never had I seen such intense light with such little sound. No sound, in fact.
At that moment I had a though. It entered my brain like an idea, but the idea was not my own.
“No one else can see. You are the only one.”
I toyed with this thought for a moment. Where did that come from? Did I think that?
“You did not. We speak in different terms.” I heard it now. A strange sensation. I could hear a voice, many voices, in fact, a cacophony of them. They were peaceful, soft. I could not make out one singular voice, though. Almost as if they were in some sort of blind spot, but for my ears. There was no recognition or comparison. I understood and heard simultaneously.
“We wish to confer with you.” The voices came again. The light was ahead of me now. Up over the trees bordering our neighbor’s yard, bright and white, pale blue hues, but not offensive in any way. I could look directly at it without my eyes feeling strain. Streaks of glare peeled off from the center towards me but mysteriously I could not tell how far away it the source was. The light was alive, like it had substance, it could have been ten feet from me or ten-thousand. The column of bright pale blue I stood in now was larger, a soft circle that enveloped me and my path and the little shrub a few feet away along the walk.
I thought for a moment, and strained to talk. I found myself curious, enthralled by the presence. “Ahh…” I began with a stutter. “Ahh, hello?”
“Greetings.” The reply was immediate, the voices quick to answer. “There is no cause for fear. We know you well. We wish only to communicate a proposition.”
“You… know me?” I only heard the first part.
“Yes, we observe many.”
My head began reeling, I couldn’t make the logical side of my brain come to terms with what I was interacting with. I didn’t know how to react, where to begin.
“We cannot provide you with the answers you seek, we only have a proposition.” They were in my head again. They knew I was asking questions already without verbalizing them.
“I don’t… I just want to know…” I managed to stammer the words out.
“We apologize. We cannot. We offer you one thing.” The reply was succinct.
Standing in my walk, illuminated. I looked back to my home to see it had not changed, lights were dark, I remember the pale blue flickering against the low roof. I turned back to answer. “… Okay?”
“You are different. Ahead of you in time are many problems you cannot solve, trials and stress greater than many others of your kind.” The voices began.
“What? We’re doing okay, I think. I…” I trailed off in thought. What on earth did that mean?
“We offer you this; We will provide you with solutions, you will have assistance that you cannot detect. You will want for very little.” They continued. “Is this something that you desire?”
Practically dumbfounded, I stood, my mind somersaulting. What were they offering, exactly? Money? A business plan? Health and happiness? “I don’t know what you mean. How will you help me?”
The answer was immediate. “You will not know. You cannot. Is this assistance something that you desire?” They finished, and as they did I began to think of all the things we wanted for, our meager bank accounts, the lack of support from our families. My wife’s health issues, the old windows in the house, they boy’s shoes were wearing thin. Even the dogs, food was getting more expensive for us and for them. The company I worked for had no more options for advancement. My wife did not work, and should she, how could we afford childcare?
“Yes.” The word came without hesitation. I almost couldn’t tell I had said it.
“Understood. We will provide. There is one stipulation that you must agree to, however.”
“Okay? Wh-… what is it?” The cynic in me suddenly awoke. Always a catch, what could it be? Servitude? A physical piece of myself? My everlasting soul even?
“We do not ask so much.” They replied, clearly seeing my thoughts again. “We ask that, under no circumstances, you tell others about this proposition or this interaction with us.”
They finished speaking and I thought for a moment. This seemed too simple.
“That’s all?” I asked. I don’t know why but for a moment I envisioned who I could tell and what I would say. I found myself looking down at my own hands, dry and chapped, covered in grit and feed from the kennel. What could compel me to tell anyone? That seems simple enough. I looked back over my shoulder towards the house again, dark. A tiny yellow band of my wife’s reading lamp shown on the ceiling through our bedroom window.
“No one, ever.”
I continued to think. There was no catch, so they said. No one could ever know.
“What we say is truth. Should you agree you will be assisted. You will never again have interaction with us after this moment.” They spoke again.
“Well…” I began, light still streaming all around me. “I accept, I guess.”
“Thankyou, Please confirm that you will never tell another about this proposition or interaction.” The words came more slowly, all the voices in unison, exceptionally measured.
“I won’t tell anyone, ever.” I repeated. The words didn’t feel strange, or special at all. I simply stated them.
“Thankyou for you time.” In full unison was the reply.
The light dimmed, and in the silence, faded. I watched it go and found that I had a brief desire to call out. To ask it to wait, to tell me more, tell me anything… but it was gone. My little hollow was quiet and dark, Orion’s belt was three tiny points of light as it always had been.
That was over fifty years ago. They, whoever they were, made good on their end of the deal.
Later that year the company opened a new division, one which my friend and manager thought I should be the head of. My children grew, and my wife and I lived happily as they did. When my children were in off to middle school, my wife’s doctor suggested a new medication trial in which she thought she would benefit, and her symptoms and pain resolved. With my new position, we were able to live comfortably, and by the time the boys were of college age we had a sizable sum saved for them. My oldest went on to start his own business, and my youngest, while his brother’s business thrived started his medical residency in thoracic surgery. My wife and I looked on proudly, aging in good health as our children grew and succeeded. Soon there were beautiful grandchildren, and family dinners and outings. Two years ago our first grandchild graduated from high school, an event we attended with flowers and banners.
I write this now, an old man. My wife lies in the daybed in the other room, reading. I have been told by my doctor that I have a very rare cancer, and even with treatment, at my advanced age I will not survive more than a few months. It has been a good life.
I have kept up my end of the bargain this long. I have decided to write this note so that when it is found others can know that I owe my life to the grace of those benefactors, and do not feel I can responsibly say that the success is all mine. This is a thankyou to them, for after I am gone one could say that I have finally lived honestly. Thank you. Whoever you may be.
This note entered into evidence 06/13/2026. Labeled exhibit 12a. Regarding the disappearance of FRANKFORD, JAMES A. and his wife and two children from their home on Valencia Dr. This note was found on Mr. FRANKFORD’s desk when officers entered the home for wellness check after the individual was reported missing from work. It is posted here in hope that circulation may lead to information about the missing family or their whereabouts. Should you or anyone you know have any information about this disappearance, please contact the Ellengheny County Sheriff’s department at 1(777)555-2354.