DON'T TALK TO STRANGERS

From: Ed Komarek <edkomarek@yahoo.com
Subject: Another Good Contactee Case From Shirly Mclaine Website

UFO Stories: In Your Own Words Don't Talk to Strangers
By: Landi B. Mellas

I don't know exactly what time it was; it was the middle of the night when I awoke. I listened in the darkness. Was someone there? Without knowing why, I felt compelled to go downstairs and open the front door, as if someone, or something, was silently calling to me. Getting out of bed, I quietly made my way through the upstairs hallway and down the stairs. Throwing caution to the wind, I went straight for thefront door and unlocked it, opening it wide.

All I could do was stare at what confronted me. I should have been frightened, I suppose, but I was only amazed. There on the front porch stood an extremely tall, blond male being (categorized in ufology as a Nordic) and several little beings (possibly Grays) who I thought at the time to be children. They were to be my tour guides for a journey into what was to become for me the realm of The Other Sky.

We won't hurt you, came a telepathic voice in my head. It was coming from the tall Nordic. I turned to stare at him. It was hard to take my attention from the smaller ones; they seemed so out of place. They were all dressed up in outfits that didn't quite match, with some type of covering, like scarves, over their noses and mouths. Was I not supposed to see their lips? These little ones didn't speak, but somehow, just by looking into their very large eyes, I could tell who were males and who were females. Such strange children! I thought.

My attention returned to the tall Nordic, my eyes focusing on his very long arms connected to large hands and extremely long fingers. The tips of his fingers extended just below the knees of his one-piece silvery suit. I had never seen anybody with arms and hands that long. I could hear his thoughts again in my head. You always have free will to go with us or not. However, you only have a few minutes of your time to decide. We have many others to pick up this night.

Although a bit apprehensive, surprisingly I was not afraid. "Of course I'm going," I told them. Effortlessly, I seemed to "float" out onto the porch. This unearthly entourage then escorted me across the yard to a waiting craft. I didn't even tell Mom good-bye, I worried. Although I don't recall seeing the outside of the craft clearly, I do remember the interior in detail.

"How did you land this flying saucer in my yard?" I asked the Nordic as we floated toward the craft. We have ways of doing that, he replied. But before we go,I want you to look at the sky. He turned his eyes upward. The night sky hued into an ominous blood red as a vacuum of total silence engulfed me. Not a cricket sang, not a leaf rustled. My eyes were riveted to the heavens. An electrically charged atmosphere surrounded us, seemingly stretched to its limit, like a rubber band on the verge of snapping apart. I felt an uneasiness that at any second the sky would crackopen like a delicate egg. Although I was only seven, from the deepest recesses of my soul erupted a knowingness of a catastrophic future event for planet Earth. I knew time was running out. Urgency was upon us. The tall being's voice once again brought me back to the present. If you see the sky such as this, you will know we are coming. We must hurry. There are others to pick up. I hope to never see a sky like that again...

I entered what the non-terrestrials later called a transport scout ship, piloted by a being that I have nicknamed Driver, and we traveled to a time and place that was not of the Earth. Driver wore a dark uniform and sat at one end of the small ship's interior, methodically working several levers on a control panel. A conductor's hat perched atop his head; a dark matching scarf was tied around his neck and hung over one shoulder. His complexion was even paler than the tall Nordic's, making his black hair and dark, piercing eyes a deep contrast against pasty white skin.

The interior of the craft consisted of two rows of leather seats with an aisle up the middle. Hand straps were fastened to the ceiling and hung low enough for me to reach, very much like the Detroit street cars of the 1950's. (I believe the beings can disguise the unknown, making strange objects and situations appear familiar and comfortable). Other people whom I did not recognize apparently had been picked up before me and sat quietly on both sides of the aisle. Only a few vacant seats were left. I held on to the ceiling straps and worked my way several steps toward Driver. I did not want to sit down.

Where are we going?" I asked. I leaned around, still holding the strap, trying hard to get a good look at Driver's face. I was fascinated by the tiny slit that was his mouth. Too small to eat food, I thought. Driver tried to avoid my curiosity by quickly turning the back of his head to me. Still holding the ceiling strap, I leaned even closer in order to get another quick glance at his face. His telepathic thoughts came through loud and clear. Another child. And a curious one at that! "Where are we going?" I asked again. "MARS!" said Driver, as if he thought that was the answer every Earth kid would expect to hear, and one that would shut them up!

His strict attitude did not curb my curiosity. "I didn't think there was any life on Mars," I stated.There was no response. "What are you doing?" I asked this strange being who seemed annoyed with my incessant questioning. I'm driving the ship! Hence, the nickname, "Driver."

Thick windows were situated just above the seats all around the small craft. There was blackness outside, and although I could feel very little movement, I knew we were traveling through the vastness of space. Time seemed to have little meaning, and then the blackness became daylight through the windows. I was still standing in the aisle as the craft made a quarter turn and slowly descended, hovering now close to theground.

"Look out the windows to your right", came a voice. I hadn't seen the tall Nordic or the little ones since I first entered the craft, and I couldn't see who was speaking to me now, but I did as I was told. There was brown earth, and bushes with a greenish-blue hue; beautiful, see-through colors; lighter, more shimmering than any colors that were in my box of crayons at home. Far off in the distance, green, rolling hills came into view.

"Hey! There's a dinosaur way over there on that hill!" I said in amazement. "I didn't think there were any dinosaurs left. Don't they hurt people?"

"There are many things from the Earth here", came the voice. The dinosaurs stay on their part of the planet, and we stay on ours. Now look out the left side of theship.

I moved to the opposite side of the craft and peered through the row of windows. A single metal track, similar to a railroad track, stretched as far as I could see in front of us. Situated at approximately thirty-foot intervals on either side of the track were pairs of very tall, red and white criss-crossed poles. Each set of poles was spinning at a tremendously fast rate of speed, giving off a reddish-white blur and making a low humming noise. They reminded me of spinning barber poles. Look down, the voice then directed. You will see that the craft is hovering a few inches above the track. The energy created from the spinning poles propels the craft along the track on a cushion of air. The track is used only as a directional mechanism.

Why was I being shown all this propulsion stuff? I wondered. It was pretty complicated for a seven-year-old. But they seemed adamant that I remember everything they were telling me. The craft began to move in a forward direction along the track. (Note: There was no way I could have known about the theory of ground effect, either magnetic or electrical, since magnetic levitation or monorail ground effect systems were not in use in 1951. Therefore, I may have been shown this futuristic system to confirm the authenticity of the encounter itself).

"Where are you taking us?" I asked the voice that had spoken to me.

"We are in the process of building temporary housing", came the reply. "There may come a time when it will be necessary to remove some of the population from Earth.This is where you will stay until it is safe to return. We are showing you this now, so that if these circumstances should come to pass, you will have had time to decide during your lifetime whether you will come with us or stay on Earth. You always have a choice. We will never force you. If conditions require that we do return to remove some of your population, there will be no time for deciding then. You will either immediately come with us, or you will not. Therefore, think carefully on this."

"I will stay with you now," I said, somewhat surprised at my own lack of hesitation.

"That is not possible. You must return home. You have a higher purpose", spoke the voice.

And so it was that I was returned from a world that I was told may eventually become for some of us our temporary home. I have often wondered over the years just where this "temporary" home might be. Is it somewhere in our three-dimensional universe? Or through the veil of a parallel dimension? It all seemed very solid, like our own reality, except for the more delicate colors of the natural surroundings, like the bushes and the green rolling hills off in the distance. But more importantly, why would it even be necessary for some of our population to inhabit a temporary world? What kind of calamity might occur to our planet that would force the beings to evacuate a portion of our population until it was safe to return? Could it have something to do with a man-made catastrophe or natural cataclysm? If so, could this catastrophe be averted?

Whatever reason the beings had for showing me this possible future for mankind would become much clearer in the coming decades. But for now, all I could do was remember this night, and know that this incredible, prophetic encounter with non-earthly beings had just turned my ordinary seven-year-old world upside-down. And I knew, even then, that my days would never be the same, ever.