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First pages


Transcript of the introduction to the Lou Baldin interview by John Lear on

John Lear, son of William Lear, founder of Learjet corporation.

(Mel) Hello John, how are you?

(JL) Hi Mel how's it going? You know, a few years ago, I started reading a thread on ATS [] called Are Extraterrestrials real? As real as the nose on your face. When I got to page twenty, I instinctively knew that this information was real, and how did I know? Well to go back 25 years when I first started looking at this UFO question in 1985 after having read Budd Hopkin's Missing Time a book by Budd Hopkins that you could not put down because of the evidence that he presented. Then Whitley Strieber's Communion came out and added truth to Budd's book. I then fell into a whirlwind of nonstop investigation, and since we didn't have much of an internet in those days, it meant using snail mail and a lot of driving around for interviews. I drove throughout Arizona, Colorado and New Mexico meeting what were then big names in Ufology. Bill Steinman, Bill Hamilton, Paul Benowitz, Tom Adams, Linda Howe, Chris Lambright, Colonel Ernie Edwards, Clifford Stone and a curious fellow named Jim Spiezer who ran a forum called Paranet…Through Paranet I met Bill Cooper, and there were many others that I met and listened to and I can safely say, there weren't many UFO stories I hadn't heard. Then came the channelers like Ashtar Command, JZ Knight and Ramtha. Piles and piles of information accumulated until I had one, four-drawer legal size file cabinet completely full and filled with information. Then Bob Lazar came along and gave me a huge information dump. I thought that would be the end of any real secret information I would ever get. However, as I got to about page twenty on Are Extraterrestrials real? As real as the nose on your face, thread, read both of Lou's books A Day with an Extraterrestrial and in league with a UFO and then the follow-on thread on ATS, then Lou's forum Extraterrestrial Speak, I knew that this information was real. Now there are about 6.5 billion people on this planet who will never read or have this information and will stumble around, most of who don't even care what's going on, other than they have to feed themselves and their families. For the few that do care about what's going on, most will read Lou's stuff and dismiss it as baloney but the minuscule amount of people, I guess less than a thousand know instinctively, what Lou says is the truth. As one of those thousand, I think the information is exciting, mind-expanding, stimulating and absolutely without a doubt true. Secretly I think Lou brought this information just for me because of those thousand people that I mentioned; many don't understand the true nature of Lou's information and its implication that is, live your life with integrity, without envy hate or greed. The reason I say not many understand the true nature and implication is because I see so many questions to Lou that always start out "Well what about" or "what if I" or "Well does that mean" they're always trying to find a way around but there are no if's and's or but's. Live your life with integrity and without envy hate or greed. Now Lou didn't answer every question and many times was evasive, but this is because he knows the limit of what we should be told. Lou once said, and I quote "all humans have the capacity to know inside their soul. The first step to unlocking the information is believing it's possible, the only danger is that if you become too enlightened while on earth, you can also become an outcast because you still must live around people that are not, and people are uncomfortable around people that are different. Your true life is here also, what you do on this plane of existence is part of what you are, knowing the real truth is not essential, but it helps" but one of the best quotes I like that Lou said was "We are each unique individual souls forged in celestial furnaces by [the gods]".


My house shook so hard that I thought it was going to explode off the stone foundation. A fierce thunderstorm had whipped up out of nowhere that evening and pounded the house with phenomenal amounts of rain and golf ball size hail that left my green lawn covered with mounds of ice from the barrage. It was a warm July evening and only moments had passed after the sun had set that the storm hit. Flashes of lightning lit up the darkened sky and gave me glimpses of the shadowy and menacing monster-storm and clouds that created the near-hurricane like winds. The fierce winds blew the trees in my front yard nearly sideways and sheared leaves and small shoots off the tree branches and scattered them over my lawn and driveway.

Next thing I know I’m viewing my house from up high above the treetops and from inside of the dark stormy clouds. My mind was awash with fear that overwhelmed me as adrenaline raced to every nerve in my body and panic began to mount in my mind. I thought that I must have been sucked up by a tornado that had barreled down and gobbled up my house and me along with it. Moments passed, and I’m still standing upright unfrazzled and unscathed and extremely calm, but confused about what was holding me up in the air over my house. I then find myself inside of a strange vehicle, a ship and looking through a porthole, and peering down at my house below, which was completely intact and firmly sitting on the rock foundation, with no apparent damage that I could tell from my bird’s eye view.

I’m in the clouds inside of a strange and blindingly bright ship straight out of a science fiction horror movie and stunned like a deer in the headlights of an oncoming car. The storm and my house are now the last things on my mind as I grapple with and try and make sense of what just happened to me. The thought in my head, grabbing all the attention was, “where the hell am I.” Profoundly lost in my whole thought processes, I nearly passed out from the sheer shock and mental whiplash created by the drama whirling around in my thoroughly confused mind. Moments of calm and then anxiety took turns at the helm of my whole being. The ordeal triggered rapid mood swings as I have never experienced in my life before, not even as a soldier in a combat situation as I have been during my military days.

Like most people on Earth, I was aware of the UFO phenomena and had heard the crazy, outlandish, and bizarre claims from UFO theorists and the UFO nut crowd that storm clouds sometimes shielded (hid) within them Alien craft, flying saucers, UFOs or top secret military vehicles mistaken as UFOs. But I was never interested or motivated in looking into the phenomena or doing any research on UFOs because it seemed a silly subject to engage. One of the farmers who lives nearby my house and that I did some work for told me he had seen strange lights in the sky one night, and asked me if I had seen the lights. I didn’t and didn’t pursue that UFO topic of conversation from utter lack of interest. Now I wished I had paid more attention about Alien beings from space.

I wasn’t over the shock from the storm that rattled my house and my nerves to the bone, which left me shaken and in panic mode. And now I had to deal with the fact that I was inside of a god-damned UFO, up up in the clouds over my house. I was almost pissed off about the ordeal that my mind was put through, and was desperate to make sense of my unfolding bizarre situation.

In my oddly gyrating and now calm state, I stood at the window of the UFO watching the storm that continued battering my poor house down below. I should’ve been shook-up and petrified rather than calm and serene, but I had become suddenly bipolar with my erratic emotions. I wasn’t sure if my transient tranquility on the heels of my adrenalin rush caused by the storm was due to the adrenaline receding out of my system or if it was a separate altogether psychotic reaction of my mind collapsing from simultaneous mind-altering events. The UFO and my apparent Alien abduction hadn’t completely sunk in yet, but it was certainly gnawing on the door of my fragile, exhausted and confounded mind.

I lived in the Midwest, where horrific thunder and lightning storms along with the risk of tornadoes were a common and constant concern during the spring and early summer season. However, throughout all the horrific storms I’ve been through I had never seen or experienced a tornado my whole life. That night in that wicked storm I fully expected that a tornado was about to rip my house and me to shreds and scatter the debris over countless acres of farmer’s fields from where my house stood.

My mind shifted back to the ship that I found myself inside of and that now held me, prisoner. My mind raced back and forth from the storm predicament to how did I get inside this alien flying machine? And where are my captors, the Aliens that abruptly and clearly abducted me? I wondered to myself, but in no way, did I want them to show themselves if they looked like and were anything like the Hollywood variety that I had seen at the movie theaters. I was bewildered but nonetheless, felt safe inside this strange hovering contraption veiled by the menacing storm clouds.

I was inside of a mysterious Alien ship that presumably, possibly, saved me from a thunderstorm? Had it been a tornado that Aliens saved me from that would make sense. I could then tell my friends and family, “I was saved by the gods, or by my guardian angels from a tornado that leveled my house. And by the way, guardian angels and or gods, have spaceships.” I’m sure that would go over well.

The more I thought about my irrational situation inside the UFO, the more I cringed. Nevertheless, where was the sheer panic that was missing? My mind-speak was trying to do just that, create panic in my mind with images of strange alien creatures come to Earth to suck my brains out and leave my brainless carcass a bumbling zombie mess.

The freaky alien image was going berserk in the back of my mind as I cautiously walked around the circular craft not sure if I should instead be running and in a panic of sorts. However, outright terror, the number one thing in these sort of situations, from the little I have read, was missing, and so was my adrenalin, which should have been off the charts as it was during the thunderstorm. Something about the ship’s interior was soothing, intoxicating, relaxing, and kept me in a state of calmness. Perhaps it was the ship’s subtle way of luring me like an insect into a deadly embrace of an Alien version of a carnivorous Venus flytrap.

I continued walking with ever increasing curiosity, and fewer episodes of anxiety as my acceptance of the bizarre alien ship incrementally grew on me. Portholes appeared every so often as I made my way around the perimeter of the ship and then they disappeared, blinked out of sight when I passed by the highly mysterious windows. I could see the lightning flashes boiling over inside of the clouds from the portholes, with a view that is so much clearer than when I was inside my house and looking out the window up at the storm. I did not hear the loud thunderclaps as I did when I was inside my house, which shook the house as if lightning had hit the house or one of the nearby trees.

In sharp contrast to the way that the rain struck the windows of my house like a battering ram hammering against the windows. I heard no sounds in the ship up to that point. The ship didn’t rock back and forth like a boat on stormy seas lost in the waves washing over it. The ship was unaffected by the storm’s unyielding thrashing even as sheets of rain pelted it and the tenacious wind and rapid-fire bursts of lightning enveloped the ship in a cocoon of water and an electrified mesh made from the furious sparks of plasma.

The interior of the ship was strange and seemed to lack a solidified hard surface. It was like walking on cushy and colorful pavement in a strange land or a children’s playground at a park, rather than inside of a super advanced Alien spaceship. The feel was fresh and liberating, a feeling I would imagine if I were walking in a field of blooming and fragrant-rich flowers on a warm and slightly breezy sunny afternoon. There was no breeze or movement of air inside the ship, but the mysterious movement of something that remained hidden and elusive inside of the ship shivered my spine from the moment that I found myself on the ship. I ambled around the colorful corridor unhurried, and frequently, more times than I can remember; and at times appeared to have made little headway or progress as if I was walking in a loop where time stood still or time disappeared altogether.

Untroubled by my lack of progression through the ship, I managed to thoroughly enjoy my causal wondering and the embellished vistas that each passing moment ushered to me as if invisible beings showered me with gentle, subtle gifts for my senses; when in fact, I should have been scared out of my senses.

The inside of the ship was a winding circular corridor like a spiral of a seashell but lacking a definitive incline or the feel of a downward or upward motion as I occasionally hurry as if being pushed while I made my way around it and through the spiral. I wasn’t walking or running in circles (I didn’t think) but moving forward inside of a circular passageway that was a mass of contradictions to my human perceptions and overly excited and battered senses. Each step I took and made placed me deeper in the enticing innards, the guts, of the marvelous and wonderfully spooky Alien ship.

The ship’s bowels blazed and oozed various shades of colors of unimaginable brilliance that pricked like thundering hail at my nearly obliterated mind, body, and soul. Colors of multifaceted rainbows adorned with hues and pastels and so much more that I strain to describe the symphony of textures that overwhelmed me. Colors that I had never been aware of before while on Earth that perhaps I failed to notice because the colors on earth didn’t jump out at me and hit me in the gut, and grab me by the throat and then slap me around to seize my full undivided attention.

The frequencies and hues that dazzled were a form of silent communications like road signs that suggested that I had traveled to new panoramas within the ship and to prove that time had not stopped or at least that I was in motion and moving towards something. Like on a walking trail through a forest offers new vistas of trees and plants with differing landscapes serving as markers so that one can differentiate segments of the trail and judge progression through the forest.

I knew not how long I strolled or how long I was on the alien ship. Time itself seemed absent and an absolute illusion, which accounted for my blissful and contradicting confusion. If time existed on the ship, it might have morphed into something far more mysterious than what my mere human senses grasped about the paradox of what time is. My watch had stopped working and remained frozen on the exact moment of time I entered the ship. Therefore, time as I understood it, had stopped and become null and void to my normal way of thinking of what time is or was. That was an indication or confirmation that “something else” was in the mix of my new emerging reality.

That sense of a different flow of reality that kept me from bunching up and running into myself as if in some bizarre, warped dimension. Intrigued I was, but not as much as if such a thing had happened to be on Earth. I felt more energized than I ever felt in my entire life and wasn’t sure if I could attribute that to the skewed time factor or something else in the Alien ship. Nevertheless, my primary focus was now on my new-found vigor that had no physical or mental bounds!

The raw dynamism that radiated out of my pores like electrified sparks flitting off plasma filled me with wild expectations of what was to come inside the amazing ship. I was in my thirties and had plenty of energy and vigor but nothing like the surge that enraptured and enveloped my whole being soon after my capture by the Alien ship. My mind and body profoundly merged while going through enormous yet subtle changes during my casual stroll down, in, and around mystery lane.

Continuously, from the serene, colorful and vibrant reality emerged vistas brand new, which added more flavors to titillate the already gorged senses of body and mind. My walk, stride, and glide, around the ship’s colorful passageway, gave way and merged with abstract symbols and confusing patterns embedded into the curved walls, yet, in my face and swathed with geometric and scrambled holographic motifs of living breathing monsters hiding in the cracks and crevices of the ship.

The parade of strangeness floated and bobbed as if on ocean waves and currents and visible radio waves silently engulfed the air and space that escorted me to God knows where. They were things, designs and weird shapes that made no sense but added pleasurable aspects to my ever increasing and expanding experiences as I traveled placidly and wantonly down the tube-like channel of a hallway.

I continued in my awkward gait in the Alien version of Alice in Wonderland, the uncanny and positively peculiarity it became the deeper into the odd places of cosmic foreplay I slid forever into. I perceived a change inside of my aura when my skin glowed and sparked, covered in colorful electrical waves1 of plasma that left my whole body no longer in the dark. Auras on the ship are far more mysterious than the little I’ve heard about them in the past back on Earth. Up until now, I was entirely unsure that such biological magic existed, and wouldn’t have believed it existed without seeing it for myself. I had heard and seen a demonstration on a television show that I once watched, briefly, that all living things, plants, and animals exude auras and now I know that to be true. My whole body glowed a colorful perplexing ambient array of aura and a flashlight in the dark spaces on the ship my body became.


While spiraling along in mind body and soul, 1I noticed from looking out of the opulent and ever-present and palpating porthole that the ship was no longer inside of the storm clouds. The ship wasn’t perched over my house as it was only moments earlier but was now traveling at a frenzied and fantastically dizzying speed towards some unknown “object” somewhere in deep space. I knew not what that “object” was that the ship scrambled with all its might to reach, I only knew, somehow, that the ship was heading towards a mysteriously large object with apparent and fervent urgency.

That should have concerned me, being that I was whisked away, taken far from my family, my home, my planet and the only life of my awareness from the first day of my birth. I was not the least bit concerned or worried or traumatized by my abduction and about the fact that my past and everything about who or what I was, was vanishing before my eyes. Instead, I peered out the large eye-shaped porthole, which kept changing shape, and enthusiastically and symbolically waved goodbye and good riddance to planet Earth and my now former human life and existence.


On Earth, I lived alone, and the life of a fool clouded in mind and body in my absurd Darwinian beliefs that humans are the progeny of scum that originated by accident in some ancient primordial cesspool. And furthermore, could most probably be, per the leading scientific minds, the only intelligent life form that came out of the abyss of nothingness in the whole of the universe and us humans were most likely all there was. It is excruciatingly and abundantly clear to me now that such notions are blatantly false and patently idiotic.

I lived some distance from a major metropolitan city out in what people refer to as the sticks, boonies or boondocks. Surrounding my property are miles of dense timberland but also cattle ranches, bean fields and boundless acres of corn fields—parcels of farmland that interrupted the continuity of the forestland. The country air was sweet and unpolluted, and the sounds of nature are soothing to my restless soul. I fell in love with that country feeling when out for a drive one day and noticed a for-sale sign on the house that I now own. The house had sat vacant and on the market for two years, and I was able to buy the house at a price that I could not walk away from. I negotiated an owner finance with ten percent down, signed the contract and locked it up that same day. I moved into my house two weeks later.

I loved the seclusion and tranquility away from the city lights, and away from the noise and the trash-talk of urban living. Country life far away from the burgeoning crowds afforded me a serenity that was unknown to me while I was growing up in a large metropolitan area and densely populated inner-city neighborhood next to a part of town that is now bludgeoned, decimated, and bloodied by gangs and gang graffiti.

My house in the sticks was less than an hour away from a major city and only a few minutes from a small suburban bedroom community, where I did my shopping and congregating a few times a week for groceries and light entertainment when I took in a movie at the only cinema they had in town. I socialized in the town with a few army buddies at the local VFW (veterans of foreign wars) and occasionally involved myself with the functions the VFW provided. I was not a regular at the VFW as most of the members were, and sometimes weeks if not months passed between my participation in the activities and meetings. Working for a living to pay the bills consumed much of my time.

I was single and dated off and on some of the girls living in the small town. Nothing ever cemented between any of them and me, which made me wonder if something was wrong with me. I’m not a stud, but I am a little above average in the looks department and had no shortage of dates with women.

I served in the Army four years, saw a little combat action in a war zone in the Middle East, not much, but it was enough to start me taking life a bit more seriously than I had up to that point. A borderline care-free lifestyle was my aim, and I had made some progress in achieving that means of living, stashing away funds rather than frittering my money on mindless activities at the bar and pool hall. I witnessed things in that war that woke me from my sheltered life as an over-indulged American boy growing up in a well to do family, from an upper-middle-class atmosphere in a well-kept and meticulously manicured part of town. However, by the time I finished by military contract and returned to civilian life my old hood had lost some of its luster, when surrounding neighborhoods deteriorated, and property values tanked.

I joined the army for the promise to see the world and see it I did. The ravaged and horrific underbelly of human despair that prevailed in the places the army deployed me. Countries and people’s lives tormented by endless wars did a lot to make me realize and appreciate the comforts and the true miracles that peace, freedom, and prosperity provided to those people that cherished it. The things my generation and I, and generations before have taken for granted and for some, have lost.

In the army, I specialized in intelligence gathering and was not so much involved in the fighting. I was not an officer but could have been had I followed in my father’s footsteps, and taken his advice and joined the academy of his alma mater. I had no desire for a lengthy military career as an officer and settled for joining as an enlisted man instead. I did become a non-commissioned officer, a sergeant during my abbreviated military career.

Four years in the army matured me considerably, and for that, I was grateful for the opportunity to serve my country; not to mention the generous benefits the Army provided me after my honorable discharge. I used some of that education money to learn a trade suitable for re-engaging back into civilian life. I considered going to college on the GI bill, but I didn’t want to spend four years in school.

As a civilian, I earned my living doing construction work in the town near where I lived. I was handy with a hammer and loved working outdoors; making repairs and building new decks and other types of projects. I learned my carpentry skills at a trade school in the city, and the practical hands-on, trial and error, while doing small jobs here and there around town wherever I could find work. I started out doing small jobs with people I knew in town and odds and ends for some of the farmers near where I lived. I’m a jack-of-all-trades and master of none, as the saying goes, but I did master a few things, enough to keep me busy and people calling me back with additional construction projects they wanted me to do for them. I never worked for a company and was self-employed my entire life, which I consider a blessing even though the paychecks were not steady or reliable.

I flipped houses when the remodeling jobs slowed down. I purchased homes in need of repairs and fixed them up, then sold them or rented them if I couldn’t sell them quick enough, which made me a landlord for a time. I reluctantly gave rentals a try but being a landlord was not my forte, my style, I soon learned the hard way. I didn’t possess the mandatory skills of a landlord the brutal temperament required to survive in the rental business. When my renters didn’t make their rent payments and gave me the sob story instead, I often buckled and let them off the hook and gave them more time (more time to come up with more excuses). That ended up costing me my good credit when I, in turn, was unable to make payments on the rental property to the bank. I tried everything in my power to make it work, but I ended up walking away from two of my rentals and let them go back to the lender. That destroyed my credit rating and my willingness to ever engage in the brutally unpredictable rental home business.

I was as busy as I wanted to be with my construction jobs and sometimes did just enough to get by (enough to pay the bills). I grew some of my vegetables on my five acres of land that my house sat on. Most of my land was in trees. One day when I had nothing better to do, I cleared out a patch of trees and brush and turned a portion of my land into a vegetable garden and planted tomatoes, squash, green peppers, cucumbers, and my favorite, sweet corn. I planned on having fresh eggs and constructed a chicken coop and bought a few chickens. Somehow, a fox, raccoon or some other critter got in the hastily built chicken house and ate my chickens. I gave up on that idea and bought my fresh eggs from a farmer not far from my house.

I heated my house during the winter months mostly with the dead wood I collected from fallen trees, cut them up with my chainsaw and split them with a log-splitter that I had acquired through a barter exchange for a job I did for a neighbor farmer friend. I had a pile of firewood stacked high up against the side of my barn with enough logs to last me through the winter months. Burning firewood put a substantial dent in my propane gas bills and gave me something cozy to look at while warming up my home on dreary cold days.

I hunted some of my food, turkeys, and deer when they were in season and sometimes when they weren’t but happened onto my property. I froze the meat so that it lasted me through the year and that dropped my food expenses significantly. Fishing in a nearby lake provided me with fish to eat and an enjoyable and free venue for entertainment. Enthusiasm for most sports I didn’t have and applied that energy to the challenge and the fight put up by the fish in their futile attempts to avoid my dinner plate.

The life I chose to live was not a lifestyle suited for most city folk and was probably one of the reasons I remained unhitched. I cherished my independence with a vengeance, and would never have settled for anything less, and that too figured into why I hadn’t pursued the marriage route with any passion. However, I had a deep down and veiled desire of someday finding a wife and raising a family. Now that I’m on some Alien spaceship and being whisked away to some other planet I’m not sure what I’m in for in the marriage and family scenario.

No one will miss me back on Earth, at least not for a while, because I was mostly on my own and had no close friends and few associates that had any significant contact with me. My parents are both alive and live in a large city in another state and remain incommunicado (we don’t talk much). I didn’t get along with my mom or dad very well during my teenage years, and then life got in the way, I joined the army, and after being discharged, I was too busy with other things to try and mend my differences with them. My mother called me occasionally, to see if I was still alive and to wish me well. Other than that, we had little meaningful conversations. My father was as stubborn as I was and didn’t find the time or make the time to reach out to me. Now the time and opportunity for making amends has passed, and I have my regrets.

Siblings consisted of one brother, younger than me by two years, and a sister three years older than me. They are both married and busy with their lives and taking care of my two nephews, sons of my sister, and one niece, the daughter of my younger brother. Whom keep their grandparents (my parents) proud and occupied. And that makes me glad. I got along with both of my siblings but didn’t stay in contact after I moved out of state. They have their lives, and I have mine. And now I have my regrets with them also about not making more of an effort at keeping in touch and participating in their lives more often than I did.

My whole family lived in the same city, the one I moved away from before joining the army. And after my military tour ended, I didn’t go back home and try to mend the fences with my parents. I was the black sheep of the family due mostly to being young and naive. My family did send me Hallmark cards during my birthdays and greeting cards during the holidays, to keep me up-to-speed about family events and gatherings that I missed. I had hoped to make amends one day but that day never came, and now I might never have the chance to reach out to my parents, my siblings, nephews, and niece.


It seemed at times as if I was alone on the tiny and cramped Alien ship. Tiny because it appeared small with only a winding passage (corridor) with little elbow room to stretch out. I was unaware of other humans or alien entities other than the occasional darting shadows of something that I couldn't make out. I wondered where or how anything other than me could fit if they or it were on the ship with me.

The ship was closing in on me. But there had to be more ship somewhere in the bizarre Alien craft to make it practical. I hadn’t seen anyone or anything besides the shadow, which could have been my own shadow. The available space on the ship excluded room to hid and almost too tight for an Alien or goblin to fit in there with me. I didn’t feel alone in my small capsule. There was an overpowering inexplicable energy in the air of the kind one feels at large gatherings and wild parties; whatever it was, remained out of my comprehensive field of view and awareness.

Some creature or thing, human or otherwise pulled me out of my house during the storm and placed me inside of the Alien ship. That was a forgone conclusion in my mind since I certainly didn’t fly up to the ship on my accord. I didn’t even know that there was an Alien ship parked above my house. And had I seen a UFO parked above my house I would have totally freaked out. For some god-only-knows reason, something plucked me from my home and placed me inside this sardine can. I kept telling myself that I should be in a panic. I’m inside of a fucking Alien ship abducted by god damn incognito and invisible freaking Space Aliens!

Meandering endlessly, since I found myself on the ship, I knew I had to be nearing something revelatory about my situation. I stopped walking and peered out of one of the peculiar apertures, orifices, portholes or whatever they are that blinked into existence whenever I stopped or moved forward as a kind of obscure incentive to keep me moving forward, I presumed. When I retraced my steps or tried to move backward, the portholes hid out of my sight and became nonexistent. When that happened, it was like I was in a small dark closet. Lights dimmed and then went out completely if I persisted in backing up to return to where I first found myself on the ship. I tried more than once to go back, and the brutal darkness that ensued sent shivers and chills up and down my spine. I was so afraid that I’m sure my hair stood straight up all over my head and neck like the quills of a porcupine. It was creepy and eerie as hell. I’ve never experienced such horrid fear in my life, not even when bullets were coming in my direction and crackling around me during my army days. It was freaky and unnerving that the ship had me moving forward and further into the abyss with no way of turning back.

Looking out the windows that periodically changed shape and size when they blinked into view I could tell that the ship was traveling through space at enormous speed. Space particles the size of grains of sand outside the ship lit up as they shot passed the ship. I saw the blue hue of Earth in full retreat as the planet continued to shrink and left in the cosmic dust as the ship sped further and further away. Small objects, particles of space matter, dust, rocks, asteroids or other strange cosmic material flared up, fired up and did strange things as the ship moved furiously faster and created a wormhole through the space it shot through. The numerous sparks flying all over the place around the outer skin of the ship reminded me of a massive barrage of tracer rounds from a holocaust of machine gun fire from one of the battles during my deployment days. It was quite the cosmic show both inside and outside of that magical/horrific mystery tour of the Alien ship!


About me

I write fiction and nonfiction books about the things I know and have experienced during my life on planet Earth. I mostly write about the paranormal and extraterrestrial influences that reach into this world and change people's lives. Born in Verona, Italy, in 1952. My family moved to America in 1957. We lived on the East Coast a few years then to the Midwest. I'm married with children and grandchildren. Served in the US army during the Vietnam war; stationed on the island of Okinawa.

Q. Where can readers find out more about you?
On Kindle books. I have written several books: In League with a UFO, A Day with an Extraterrestrial, Orphans of Aquarius (Vietnam), UFOs in the year of the Dragon, Mars and the lost planet Man, Graduation into the Cosmos, and others.
Q. What draws you to this genre?
Personal experiences from my childhood playing with other children on a UFO. As I became older my experiences changed and became subtle. While in the US Army they reemerged and I had contact with military people also involved with extraterrestrials on this planet.
Q. When did you decide to become a writer?
A year after my father passed away, in 1992. I had a strong urge to write down many of the things he told me about concerning his life as a boy growing up in Italy before WW2. And then his horrific experiences in that war as a young soldier when Italy succumbed to relentless bombardments.

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