I'm still not sure what to make of this. I'm not really the kind of person that believes in this sort of stuff. I was working night shift at the time, and had been doing so for about half a year. People say that going nocturnal can increase one's potential for hallucinations, but I hadn't been experiencing any negative side effects from the schedule change at the time. My usual routine involved waking up at 11:00PM or so, dragging myself out the door at fifteen minutes to midnight, and biking down S Grand Ave to the Safeway at the south edge of town. For a good portion of that ride, I'd be right on the border of the expansive, shallow hills that surround Pullman. The night sky would stretch out wide, and the tall grass on the closest ridge would whisper quietly in the wind. It was a beautiful sight, and I enjoyed being one of the only people to see it so regularly. One night, however, I saw something I found completely inexplicable. It was mid-winter, but the snowfall had melted away enough for me to be able to ride my bike. I set off and puffed along the empty street, my breaths condensing into thick clouds as I pulled out of the neighborhoods. I was late, and midnight was approaching fast. I was nearly there, waiting in the left turn lane along the edge of those rolling fields, when I froze. To the south of me, something in the sky was glowing orange. It looked like a series of streetlights, arranged in a rectangular pattern. If there was a mass of something underneath it, I couldn't tell. It was suspended in the air, unmoving, maybe 40 or 50 feet up. It appeared to be no more than 200 yards away. As I looked on, shocked, the lights towards the bottom of the supposed object began to move: a second layer tilted down from the first, as if a hatch was opening, facing forwards. The lights began to shine more intensely as this happened, as if the object was lit up from inside with a paler, yellow hue. I didn't know what to think. Curiosity told me to ditch work and run out into the fields to try and find out for certain what was happening, but a pit in my stomach began to form. What would happen if I saw something I shouldn't? Should I even be seeing what I already am? Apprehension crept over me, and my mind began to spin. The light turned green then. Instinctively, I made my left turn. Feeling as though I was being watched, something told me the safest thing to do would be move along like I hadn't seen anything. I got to work, put it out of my mind, and began mindlessly stocking shelves again. I rolled home a couple hours after sunrise uneventfully, as the rest of the town began to stir and the rumble of cars filled the street again. Sometimes I wish I hadn't turned away, having never had another experience like this since. The curiosity does still kill me. I wonder what would've happened if I had been braver at the time.