The storm outside the Peterson home was just beginning to brew and the freshly mown grass glistened under the moonlight as it bathed in the sprinkle of summer rain. Seven-year-old Angela cowered deep into her covers as the first distant thunder announced its presence. Sleep would not come to her this night.

As she lay in the comfort of her bed, safe from all evil, she felt a bump under her mattress. Then she heard a thump at her window.

She whispered, “Oh mommy, who’s there?”

She curled up and pulled the blankets about her shoulders and over her head, like a clam burrowing into its shell for protection.

“Please go away,” she whimpered quietly to herself. The distant thunder clapped louder and the flash of lightning lit up her window.

Angela screamed.

The flash of lightning didn’t go away. But a purple light beamed into the window of her bedroom, emitting small crystal-like particles that spun about. Together they quietly formed a hole in the window.

Angela began moving toward the window. Her legs never touched the floor, but the blankets fell away as she was lifted into the air. She floated across her bedroom toward the window like a magnet being drawn by solid steel.

“What is that light and why am I moving toward it?” she said, but the words never formed.

As she reached the window, she saw a saucer-like vessel hovering about the lawn. The purple beam formed a large eclectic hand that gently wrapped itself about her small frame and whisked her out the window and up into the confines of the vessel.

The vessel warped into the night and a paper note flitted into the air and landed onto the empty pillow.

A whisper was heard, “Goodbye, mommy.”