Every once in a while the postman delivers a letter that is deeply
disturbing. This is one such letter.
The problem that is presented by letters that are deeply disturbing
is obvious. Is it best to publish such letters or is it best to shelve
them silently? They are difficult to write; they are depressing to
read. Yet they are quite often fascinating documents in their own
right. Are private interests and public interests at odds when it comes
W.A., who is a resident of Thunder Bay, Ont., sent me the following
letter. It arrived in the mail on 8 June 1990, and it was addressed to
me in response to my request, carried by The Thunder Bay
Chronicle-Journal and by other weekly papers across the country, for
first-person accounts of "extraordinary experiences."
The letter was actually typed on 26 Jan. 1989, so it was written well
before my open letters began to appear in Canadian newspapers. W.A.
originally addressed the letter to Harold Wilkinson, the well-known
English author of Flying Saucers Uncensored and other books on world
mysteries. Wilkinson is now deceased. The letter was posted to
Wilkinson but returned to W.A. by the Royal Mail. W.A. kept it and
readdressed it to me.
Here it is in its entirety, only slightly copy edited for ease of
reading. I have withheld nothing but the name of the correspondent,
reproducing only her initials.
In 1966, June 30th, my husband aged 55, my son aged 13, and I myself
aged 45, went fishing 20 miles from home at Onion Lake -- a very remote
lake with a gravel pit which is kind of hard to get to because of a poor
road. We had a reliable truck, a half-ton, with a camper on back -- a
1940 truck. My son was a smart, excellent student, with a winning
personality -- high I.Q. and a perfect person.
The sky was clear as we started out at 11:00 p.m. hoping to sleep in
the camper and then spend the morning fishing. The sky was clear all
We arrived at the spot and we decided to spend the night in
the gravel pit. No one else was there -- we had the whole lake to
ourselves. We were just about to climb into the back camper when we
were engulfed in a total, complete darkness and stillness. Not a tree
rustled -- nothing except a grinding noise that was intermittent. I was
scared stiff -- I had never had such an experience.
There was a strange
smell like that of carborundum rubbing on steel -- I had never smelled
that before or since. Then all of a sudden my son completely
disappeared -- no sound of him walking away. I called and called and
tried to look and my husband did the same, but everything was so black
-- couldn't even see any sky at all -- just like we were in a bowl of
blackness. It seemed like years but I guess it was about 15 minutes --
all of a sudden my son appeared as if out of nowhere again -- very
He said he had seen a plane, saucer-shaped with red-and-blue
lights, and went over toward it, and doesen't remember anything else.
We tried to start the truck and there was no spark -- the first time the
battery was ever dead in all the ten years we had owned it and there was
no reason for it to be dead, because we didn't have a radio, heater or
But my son was never the same -- he had lost his mind!
He has been in a mental hospital ever since and is still there -- so
ill that even with the mass exodus of patients from mental hospitals
during the last few years he has to remain. He has a round mark on his
left leg near his ankle about the size of a dime like a vaccination mark
which came that night and the scar is still there.
My son had all the great potential of being prime minister or someone
great because he was well read, very obedient, very intelligent. Now
he's a complete vegetable, unable to speak or hear. My sorrow has been
great, as people blame me -- I won't go near Onion Lake again.
I feel that you will tell me if you know of anyone else who has had
similar sad experiences. I've cried and cried for 23 years. My son is
now 36 years old. His whole life is ruined, and mine and my husband's
also. I can't tell this story to anyone but you and it's so true. What
an expensive fishing trip.
UFOs OVER CANADA,
R. J. Colombo