The Strangest Thing Happened Last Thursday
Let me start by saying I’m not one to believe in conspiracy theories or paranormal activity. But last week, something so bizarre happened that I’ve been replaying it in my head nonstop. I just need to share it with someone—because if I don’t, I might convince myself it was all a dream.
It was a typical Thursday afternoon. I’d just finished grocery shopping and was walking back to my apartment when I noticed a small crowd gathered around a tree in the park. Curiosity got the better of me, so I wandered over. A woman in a bright yellow raincoat (odd, since it wasn’t raining) stood under the branches, pointing at something above her. “Look!” she kept saying. “It’s right there!”
I craned my neck and squinted. At first, I saw nothing but leaves. Then, tucked between two branches, I spotted it: a perfectly round, glowing orange orb, about the size of a grapefruit. It pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat. No wires, no strings—just this… thing. Floating.
“Is this some kind of art installation?” someone asked. The woman in the raincoat shook her head. “It wasn’t here yesterday,” she said. “I walk through this park every day. That tree was normal this morning.”
A teenager pulled out their phone to take a video. The orb flickered, then vanished. Poof. Gone. Everyone gasped. The teenager lowered their phone, looking stunned. “Did I… did I do that?”
We all stood there, awkwardly silent, until someone laughed nervously. “Must’ve been a drone,” another person suggested. But drones don’t disappear into thin air. And they certainly don’t glow like radioactive pumpkins.
Here’s where it gets weirder. Later that evening, I was unpacking groceries when I realized my keys were missing. I retraced my steps to the park, hoping I’d dropped them near the tree. The sun had set, and the park was eerily quiet. As I approached the tree, I heard a faint humming sound. The orb was back—but this time, it was hovering just above the grass.
Before I could react, it zipped toward me. I froze. It circled my head twice, then darted away into the bushes. I swear it felt… intentional. Like it wanted me to follow. Against my better judgment, I did.
The orb led me to a rusty old gate at the edge of the park—one I’d never noticed before. It creaked open on its own. Behind it was a narrow alley lined with mismatched doors, each painted a different color. The orb hovered in front of a bright blue door, then dissolved into sparkles.
At this point, I should’ve turned back. But curiosity is a dangerous thing. I knocked. No answer. I tried the handle, and the door swung open to reveal a tiny room filled with clocks. Not ordinary clocks—these were melting, backward, upside-down, some with too many hands. A man sat at a desk in the center, tinkering with a pocket watch. He didn’t look up.
“You’re late,” he said.
“Late for what?” I asked.
He finally glanced at me. “Not you. The orb. It’s supposed to guide people here by 6:15. You arrived at 6:17.” He sighed. “Third time this week. I’ll have to recalibrate it.”
I blinked. “What is this place?”
“Temporary fixes,” he said, gesturing to the clocks. “Ever have a day that felt too short? Or a boring meeting that dragged on forever? That’s my department. We adjust time leaks.” He said it so casually, like he was explaining a plumbing job.
I laughed. “You’re joking, right?”
He handed me the pocket watch. Instead of numbers, the face had symbols: a coffee cup, a traffic light, a crescent moon. “Try it,” he said. “Turn the hands to the moon.”
I did. Instantly, the room darkened. Moonlight streamed through a window that hadn’t been there a second ago. Outside, the park was silent and bathed in silver. My breath caught. “How…?”
“Temporary fix,” he repeated. “We nudge time here and there. Makes life less… wobbly.” He took the watch back. “But don’t tell anyone. Most humans can’t handle knowing.”
“Why show me, then?”
He grinned. “You followed the orb. That means you’re either very brave or very nosy. Either way, you’ll forget most of this by tomorrow. Side effect of the calibration.”
And just like that, he ushered me out. The blue door slammed shut, and the alley vanished. I stood alone in the park, my keys in hand. When I checked my phone, it was 6:19 p.m.
Now, here’s the kicker: The next morning, I couldn’t remember the man’s face or what the room looked like. The details faded like a dream. But I still have this nagging sense that time isn’t as solid as we think. And every time I pass that tree, I glance up—just in case.
So, am I crazy? Maybe. But if you ever see a glowing orange orb in the park… well, you know what to do. Follow it. And whatever you do, don’t be late.
Please indicate: Thinking In Educating » The Strangest Thing Happened Last Thursday