John Predovan
In the late night and early morning hours of July 14th and 15th of 2001, over one hundred people throughout the New York and New Jersey area witnessed a tremendous object moving slowly at a very low altitude. The triangular or diamond-shaped object, as described by several eyewitnesses, bore fifteen to as many as thirty glowing orange balls of light forming somewhat of a V pattern. The object made no sounds of any kind as it hovered in silence over neighboring towns. Some called the event amazing while others called it peaceful and beautiful. It wasn’t a group of planes flying in formation or even the aurora borealis. What was it, then? No one seems to have the answer, but someone out there might.
It was just another ordinary Saturday night when John was driving home from the shore. Little did he know that it would be a night that he wouldn’t soon forget. Within the first year of the incident, John was periodically being tormented by eerie images and visions. For months and months he lost countless hours of sleep from these disturbing dreams. Some of them would last only for a few moments while others would last for several days. John kept silent, telling no one about these accounts as he jotted them down on paper whenever they occurred.
Over the course of a couple of years, John has been trying to piece together one of the greatest mysteries that continues to elude him. As the pages were coming together, he realized that stories started slowly unfolding before his eyes. These mind-boggling events would overwhelm his soul daily the more he wrote and read about them. John relentlessly pursues the issue with the result of either taking one step forward closer to the answer or two steps backwards farther away from the truth. This is the first of the chronicles of mystery, death, trust, intrigue, and deceit. John continues to write about the images and visions as long as they appear to him in hopes of one day solving the mystery of the lights over New Jersey.
John Predovan was born in Baltimore, Maryland, where he and his family resided for a few years before moving to New Jersey. During his youth, John enjoyed being a kid while having silly adventures with his lifelong friends. In his spare time when they weren’t out gallivanting on one of their quests, John would hide out in his room and create his own. At a young age, John penned away short stories as well as poems during the late-night hours while his family slept. Although John enjoyed being a kid, he always had a passion for writing and to one day become an author.
Throughout grade school, middle school, and most of high school, John wrote several poems and short stories. He only shared his work with teachers at the time, knowing that he would receive critical and accurate feedback from them. When John decided that he wanted to pursue a career in writing, tragedy struck his family. His beloved grandfather passed away after courageously battling cancer for over two years. This sent John spiraling into an emotional roller coaster for years. John’s passion for writing and becoming an author had been extinguished and was replaced by grief and loneliness.
The years passed and John finally came to terms with the passing of his grandfather. His passion for writing had been slowly rekindled by unique and personal events from his own life. John’s friends and family greatly encouraged him to write again and that’s when he decided to pursue his long-lost dream of becoming an author. While penning away for a few more years, John continued to receive tremendous support from his friends and family. Then, one day, John’s dream became a reality when he found a publisher who would put his writings into print.
Currently, John is working on several projects ranging from animation to screenplays. Most of all, John is very grateful that his long-lost dream of becoming an author has finally come true.
The sounds of helicopters roared above the building as the screaming and yelling commenced again. The building shook frequently as I gripped the nightstand, leaving my handprint on the dust-ridden tarp. I glanced down at the box as I clutched it in my hand. The box didn’t have any hinges or locks on it as I inspected it further. I gripped the box with both hands and pulled. The box separated in half as it quickly opened up. An object fell out of the box and fell to the floor. There was nothing else in the box so I bent down to pick up the fallen object.
It was sphere shaped and about the size of a cue ball. I held it in my hand as I glanced at the inside of the box. It was layered in red felt and the outside of the box had no markings. I placed the open box back on the nightstand and glanced down at the floor. There was a small smudge on the ground from where the sphere landed. I picked up the sphere and brought it closer to my face, staring at it in awe.
The sphere weighed at least one pound and it was clear as glass. As I rolled it around in my hand I felt slight imperfections on the sphere itself. It was either made of solid glass or crystal, except for the center. The center of the sphere was hollow and contained a red dime-sized object. It wasn’t perfectly symmetrical, as it had visual imperfections. There were raised dots all over the dime-sized object, as well as thin little dark-colored prongs no bigger than an eyelash along the outside of it.
“What the fuck is this?” I asked as I stared all around the sphere.
The building shook again and again and everything in the room toppled over. I jumped from the bed as the large lamps fell off the nightstands. They broke immediately upon impact, along with several other items. The portrait on the wall shifted from side to side as I tripped and fell on my ass. I quickly stumbled back to my feet and looked around. The agonizing screams of the people outside kept growing louder. I clutched the sphere in my hand as I gazed upon the portrait of my grandparents. “I love you,” I said as I ran out of the bedroom and into the hallway.
As I ran down the hallway back into my bedroom, everything in my path had been knocked over. I looked around my room and found my beige flannel jacket hanging behind my door. The building shook again as I reached out and grabbed it off the door. I quickly put my jacket on and ran over towards the window. There were countless people running everywhere, screaming out in fear. The people carried whatever they could as they ran and trampled over everything. I heard children wailing in the streets as family and friends searched for one another. I zipped up my jacket, shoved the sphere in my coat pocket, and bolted out of my room.
I ran back down the hall towards the door of the apartment. As I reached the door, I was just about to leave when I glanced over to my right. The portrait of my grandparents hung on the wall with the dust scattered everywhere. The tremors continued as things were breaking all around me. I held on to the doorknob so that I wouldn’t fall. After a few moments, I decided to let go of the door to the apartment and walked over to my grandma’s bedroom door. I reached for the doorknob and pulled the door shut. The cross that hung on the door had fallen to the ground. I grabbed the cross and hung it back on the door. With my right hand, I kissed my fingertips and touched the cross.
“Heaven help us,” I said as I walked away from the door.
