It was the kind of night that seemed almost timeless. The house was quiet, the only sound coming from the rhythmic breathing of my wife, who lay peacefully asleep beside me. Outside, the world was still, wrapped in the dense hush that comes in the early hours between 2 and 4 a.m. Throughout my entire life, I’ve woken up in the middle of the night frequently. Almost every night, I wake up at least once. And once again, I found myself wide awake, staring into the darkness.
It was then that I noticed it.
At first, I assumed it was just a trick of light—maybe a reflection from a car passing by or a stray beam of moonlight. But as my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I realized that this was something different. The orb was small, about the size of a marble, and faintly glowing. It wasn’t a glaring brightness, more like the soft radiance of a firefly, but steady and unwavering. It floated, seemingly aimless, in the corner of the room, moving without any discernible pattern.
I watched it intently, my mind racing to find a rational explanation. Dust? Light reflection? Maybe even a dream? But as I blinked and refocused my eyes, it was still there, bobbing gently in the air as though it were alive. Despite my logical inclinations, there was no immediate explanation that fit. The orb hovered there, defying the rules I thought I understood about the world.
Curiously, I wasn’t scared, at least not in the way one would expect when confronted with the inexplicable. Nervous? Yes. Intrigued? Definitely. But fear never truly set in. It was as if some primal part of me recognized the orb as strange but not malevolent. There was no sense of danger, just a quiet unease. I was more concerned about waking my wife than anything else; she’s never been one to handle the unusual with ease, and I knew that if she saw this, there would be no peace in our home for a long time.
The orb continued its slow, erratic path across the room, weaving through the air as if it were exploring. It moved closer to the bed at one point, then drifted away, always maintaining a certain distance. I found myself hesitant to disturb it, unsure of what might happen if I revealed that I was awake and aware of its presence. But the more I watched, the more I wanted to understand it, to interact with it somehow.
After a few minutes of silent observation, I decided to make my move. I didn’t want to startle it—whatever it was—but my curiosity outweighed my caution. Slowly, I began to shift in bed, careful to make my movements look natural, like someone just rolling over in their sleep. But the moment I moved, the orb reacted. It zipped toward the window with a suddenness that caught me off guard. I froze, pretending to settle back down, and the orb seemed to hesitate. It hovered near the window for a moment, as if deciding what to do next, before resuming its random pattern of motion.
This time, I didn’t wait. I sat up quickly and reached out toward it, hoping to make contact, to feel what it was made of, if it was even tangible at all. But the orb was faster than I anticipated. In an instant, it shot past me, a blur of light, and vanished through the closed window as if the glass wasn’t even there. It was gone, leaving me staring at the spot where it had disappeared, hand still outstretched.
I sat there for a long while, trying to process what I had just experienced. My rational mind wanted to dismiss it as a hallucination, a trick of the light, something that could be easily explained away by science or sleep deprivation. But deep down, I knew what I had seen. It was real, as real as anything I’d ever encountered, and yet utterly beyond explanation.
In a haze of disbelief, I grabbed my phone from the nightstand. There was no way I could keep this to myself. If I waited until morning, I might convince myself it was all a dream. I opened a text message to my brother—he was the only person I could think of who might believe me, or at least humor my account without immediate skepticism.
My fingers hovered over the keys as I struggled to put the experience into words. What do you say about something that defies logic, that challenges your understanding of reality? After a few moments, I typed out a brief, shaky message: *”You won’t believe what I just saw.”* Then I hesitated before adding more details. *”There was an orb in my room, floating around. It was fast—moved like it was aware of me. Then it disappeared through the window. I know how crazy this sounds, but I’m not making it up.”*
I sent the message and placed the phone back on the nightstand, feeling a mix of relief and trepidation. The house was quiet again, the kind of quiet that feels too thick, too heavy. I lay back down, listening to my wife’s steady breathing, trying to find that same peace. But sleep didn’t come easily. My thoughts were too loud, replaying the event over and over, each time trying to piece together something that made sense.
Morning arrived with the usual routine—breakfast for the kids, sunlight filtering through the kitchen windows, and the hum of the day beginning. My wife went about her morning as usual, oblivious to the strange encounter I’d had just hours before. I considered telling her, but what would I say? How could I explain it without sounding ridiculous, without planting a seed of fear that might never go away? In the end, I chose to keep it to myself, at least for now.
But as the day went on, the memory of the orb refused to fade. It stayed with me, lurking in the back of my mind, a persistent reminder that not everything can be explained away with logic and reason. I thought about the possibilities—was it some kind of energy? A spirit? A visitor from another dimension? I had no answers, only more questions.
That night, when I climbed back into bed, I found myself glancing at the window, half-expecting to see the orb again. But the room was empty, just as it should be. Still, the memory lingered, and with it, the unsettling realization that there’s more to this world than we can see, more than we can understand. We live in a reality full of mysteries, some that we’re better off not solving.
In the weeks that followed, I kept an eye out for anything unusual, both in my home and in my own mind. I checked the news for any similar reports, combed through online forums where people shared their paranormal experiences, hoping to find someone else who had seen what I saw. But nothing matched my encounter—not exactly, anyway. There were stories of orbs, sure, but they were always slightly different—different colors, different behaviors, different outcomes. Mine felt unique, personal, as if it was meant for me alone.
My brother, to his credit, didn’t dismiss my account outright. He asked questions, suggested possible explanations, but ultimately, he admitted that he didn’t know what to make of it either. It wasn’t the kind of thing that fit neatly into a category or could be filed away under “weird but explainable.” It just was—a single, strange event that defied understanding.
Over time, I began to accept that I might never have a clear answer. The orb had come and gone, leaving me with nothing but a memory and a story that I rarely told. But that was okay. Not everything needs to be explained, and some mysteries are better left unsolved. Sometimes, it’s enough to simply acknowledge that there are things out there that we don’t understand—things that remind us of how small we are in the grand scheme of the universe.
As I lay in bed each night, I couldn’t help but glance at the window, wondering if the orb might return. It never did, but that didn’t mean it was gone for good. The world is full of strange, unexplained phenomena, and who’s to say that one night, it won’t come back, curious to see if I’m still watching, still waiting.
Until then, I’ll keep my eyes open, my mind curious, and my heart ready for whatever mysteries the night might bring. After all, life is nothing without a little wonder, without the occasional reminder that we don’t know as much as we think we do.
Hayden Coombs 