Four UFO and alien stories were retrieved from Archives and Special Collections at Western Illinois University in Macomb, Illinois. Thanks to Dr. Michael Lorenzen, University Archivist and Professor as well as to Bill Cook, Senior Library Specialist for their assistance in finding and using these stories.
Fulton County, Robert Dawson
I never wanted any attention from this, which is why I kept quiet all these years. My name’s Robert Dawson, and I’ve been farming the same land my grandfather worked in Fulton County, just outside Canton. Back in ’83, I was 32, recently divorced, and spent most nights in my barn workshop tinkering with equipment.
October 12th changed everything. I was closing up around 11 PM when my dogs started raising hell. Not their usual barking at coyotes – this was different. They were whining, cowering under the John Deere. The air felt heavy, like before a storm, but the sky was clear. That’s when the humming started.
At first, I thought it was transformer trouble, but it was coming from everywhere and nowhere at once. My skin tingled like I was standing too close to an electric fence. Then the lights came – three bluish-white beams sweeping across my cornfield like searchlights, but moving too smooth, too precise.
The craft – I don’t know what else to call it – emerged from behind my grain silo. Triangle-shaped, dark as pitch except for those lights underneath, bigger than my house but dead silent now. It hovered there, maybe 200 feet up, rotating slowly. The corn below it was swaying without any wind, like underwater plants in a current.
What happened next still haunts me. A beam, different from the others – more like liquid moonlight – shot down and touched the ground. The corn in that spot just… disappeared. Not bent or broken, just gone, leaving a perfect circle about 30 feet across. I stood there, frozen, watching that light pulse for maybe five minutes, though it felt like hours.
Then it just… left. Shot straight up faster than anything I’ve ever seen, leaving behind that circle of missing corn and this strange, metallic smell like ozone and copper.
The next morning, that circle was still there. Nothing would grow there for three years. I took soil samples to the extension office, but they just said it was normal soil compaction. But I know what I saw.
I kept quiet until ’86 when I read about similar sightings near Macomb. Now I’m speaking up because people need to know – something’s out there, studying our farms, our crops. Over the years, I’ve heard whispers from other farmers about strange lights, dead spots in their fields, and that same metallic smell.
The experience changed me. I started keeping detailed journals of everything unusual – weather patterns, crop yields, animal behavior. Started noticing things I’d overlooked before. There’s a pattern here in west central Illinois, something bigger than just random sightings. Sometimes, late at night, I still hear that humming, and my dogs still get nervous when the sky’s clear and the moon is full.
McDonough County, Marcus Reeves
Growing up in law enforcement, you learn to trust your gut. I’m Marcus Reeves, retired state trooper, 27 years on the force. Back in ’95, I was working the night shift, patrolling the stretch between Macomb and Colchester. Nothing ever happened out there except the occasional drunk driver or distressed motorist. That changed on September 15th.
I was parked in my usual spot, just off Route 136 near Tennessee, Illinois, finishing up paperwork around 11:30 PM. The night was clear, cool for September. My radio started picking up interference – just static at first, then this weird pulsing sound. Dispatch couldn’t hear me, and my car’s electrical system went haywire.
That’s when I saw it in my rearview – a light so bright it lit up the whole field behind me like daylight. But it wasn’t steady; it moved like oil on water, shifting colors from white to blue to something I don’t even have a word for. I stepped out of my cruiser, weapon drawn (fat lot of good that would’ve done), and witnessed something that challenged everything I thought I knew about our world.
This… craft was hovering about 300 feet up, shaped like a perfect black diamond. No sound, no wind, just this feeling of pressure in my ears like being deep underwater. Then I noticed something that really got to me – three smaller objects, like glowing orbs, emerged from underneath it. They moved in perfect synchronization, making patterns in the sky that defied physics.
I reached for my disposable camera (we kept them in the cruiser for accident scenes), but my hands were shaking so bad, I dropped it. By the time I picked it up, the objects had shifted position, now directly over a farmer’s field about a quarter-mile away. What happened next still shows up in my nightmares.
The three smaller orbs shot beams down into the field, forming a triangle. Inside that triangle, the corn… it was like it was being studied. Each stalk lit up from within, glowing like fiber optics. This lasted maybe two minutes, then everything just… vanished. Straight up into the sky, faster than any aircraft I’ve ever seen.
The next day, I filed my report. My supervisor suggested “weather balloons” or “military exercises,” but I knew better. A week later, I heard about similar patterns found in fields near Canton, matching what a farmer reported back in ’83. Over the years, I kept a personal file of similar incidents across west central Illinois – more than anyone would believe.
I retired in 2008, but I still drive out to that spot sometimes. Local farmers tell me their soil samples show strange mineral compositions in certain areas, and there’s this persistent story about a metallic smell that shows up on clear nights. The strangest part? Every few years, like clockwork, similar sightings pop up in a triangle pattern between Macomb, Canton, and Carthage.
Carthage, Illinois – Tom Wheeler
They call me Tom Wheeler down at the truck stop in Carthage. Been driving semis for thirty-two years, mostly grain and livestock runs across Illinois. Former Navy man, did six years on submarines before taking to the roads. You spend enough time on these rural highways at night, you see things. Most can be explained. What happened that April morning in 2007 can’t.
I was hauling corn from Carthage to the river terminals in Keokuk, taking Route 136 west around 3 AM. Clear night, quarter moon. Radio was playing some old Johnny Cash when the static hit. Not normal static – this had a pattern to it, like Morse code but different. Then my truck started losing power.
Now, I drove a 2006 Peterbilt, maintained it myself. Never had electrical problems. But there I was, watching my gauges go crazy while the engine chugged like it was running on fumes, even though I had three-quarters of a tank. I managed to pull over just past the Durham junction, right where that old barn sits back from the road.
That’s when the CB radio crackled to life. No voices, just this high-pitched tone that made my fillings hurt. Through my windshield, I watched three lights drop down from the clouds, moving like nothing I’ve ever seen. Underwater, that’s what it reminded me of – like watching divers’ lights through murky water.
These lights, they formed a triangle, maybe half a mile across. Then this bigger shape emerged above them – looked like a giant manta ray, black against the stars. Had to be at least 300 feet wide. The way it moved… in the Navy, we tracked Russian subs. Nothing moves that smooth in air or water.
The lights started doing something to my cargo. I could feel the trailer vibrating, not like road shake – this was different. Climbed out of the cab (stupid, I know) and saw this pale green glow seeping through the seams of my trailer. Opened the back doors and nearly fell over. My entire load of corn was floating, suspended in this green light, spinning like it was being studied.
This went on for maybe ten minutes. Then everything just stopped. The lights shot straight up, followed by that big shadow. My truck started right up like nothing happened. But my cargo? Every kernel of corn was dead – looked freeze-dried, like something had sucked the life right out of it.
Called my dispatcher, of course. They sent someone out to test the grain. Results came back “inconclusive.” But here’s the thing – two weeks later, I met this retired cop at the Carthage truck stop. He told me about similar incidents going back years. Showed me a map with all the sightings plotted out. They formed a pattern, centered around this triangle between Carthage, Macomb, and Canton.
I started keeping a journal after that night. Talked to other drivers, farmers, locals. There’s more going on than people want to admit. Every few months, someone reports those same lights, that same triangle pattern. Always around agricultural areas, always involving crops somehow.
The military runs drills out of Burlington sometimes, but this wasn’t that. I spent enough time around military hardware to know the difference. Whatever’s studying our farms isn’t from around here, and they’re interested in more than just our corn.
Schuyler County, 2019 – Sarah Chen
Recording this on my phone because honestly, who’d believe my Medium blog anyway? (Note: The WIU Archives version is printed out and not in audio). I’m Sarah Chen, agricultural data analyst for a major seed company. Was. Still processing whether to use past or present tense for my job after what happened last summer. I analyze crop yield data, soil compositions, and growth patterns – or at least that’s what I did until August 23rd, 2019.
I’d been tracking some weird anomalies in our test fields near Rushville. The data showed these perfect triangular patterns of altered crop genetics – subtle changes that shouldn’t happen naturally. My supervisor wrote it off as measurement errors, but I knew better. I’d been mapping similar patterns across west central Illinois for months, correlating them with historical data going back decades.
That night, I decided to do some field research myself. Set up my equipment – spectral analysis cameras, soil testing kits, the works – in a field where our sensors had detected abnormal activity. Clear night, perfect for data collection. I had four tablets running different monitoring programs, two drones ready for aerial surveillance, and enough coffee to keep me going till dawn.
Around 2 AM, my equipment went nuts. EMF readings spiked, tablets crashed, drones lost connection. The air felt charged, like before a thunderstorm, but with this weird metallic taste. Then my phone started playing this series of tones through its speaker – didn’t recognize the pattern, but it felt… intentional.
That’s when I saw them. Three lights, arranging themselves in this perfect triangle above the field. Made me think of those crop reports I’d been analyzing – same triangular pattern. My cameras were dead, but I managed to get my phone recording. The footage came out weirdly distorted, like something was interfering with the sensor.
Then it appeared – this massive craft, silent as death, materializing above the lights. It looked almost organic, like liquid metal flowing through the air. A beam shot down from each light, forming this triangle on the ground. Inside that triangle, something impossible happened: I watched real-time genetic manipulation happening before my eyes. The corn was changing, evolving, its DNA restructuring. I know how that sounds, but I’ve got the samples to prove it.
The whole thing lasted maybe fifteen minutes. When it ended, everything just vanished, leaving behind this perfect triangle of altered crops. The really weird part? The changes matched patterns I’d found in historical data from Canton (1983), Macomb (1995), and Carthage (2007). Same genetic markers, same triangular formation.
I started digging deeper after that night. Found reports from a farmer, a state trooper, and a truck driver – all describing similar encounters. Connected with some online communities tracking these phenomena. There’s a pattern here, something systematic. These aren’t random events; they’re coordinated studies of our agriculture.
Lost my job after trying to publish my findings. Company claimed I violated NDAs, but I know they’re just scared of what I discovered. I’ve been freelancing since then, collecting data, building a network of witnesses. Something bigger is happening in west central Illinois. These beings, whoever they are, they’re not just observing anymore – they’re experimenting, making changes to our crops, maybe preparing for something. Sometimes, on clear nights, I’ll get calls about those lights, always in that same triangle formation. And always, without fail, the soil samples show those same inexplicable changes.
I’m still monitoring the area, working with other witnesses, building a database of encounters. I have found a few written accounts at the Western Illinois University Archives and Special Collection. The University Archivist there (Dr. Lorenzen) is knowledgeable and can find things as a lot of their stuff is not cataloged.
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