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Authors: Ardy Sixkiller Clarke
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A broad smile crossed his face. “I tell you the truth, Señora. You can do with my story what you like. He moved forward and kissed me on the cheek. He smelled of sweat and overripe bananas. I kissed his cheek in return. “Travel safe, daughter,” he said as he turned and walked to his fruit stand. When I climbed in the van, I looked in his direction one more time. He waved to me.
I
never saw Gabriel again even though I looked for him on my return trips to Belize. One thing is for sure: I will never forget him. He held in his hands evidence that giants from space existed and once walked the planet Earth. Not only that, they were giants of the blue kind
.
Chapter 6
The Insect Man
“M
issing time” is a phenomenon that is often reported in connection with UFO encounters. It refers to a gap in conscious memory and can last for several hours with no recall of what occurred during that time period. The memory of what happened during the missing time reported is often recovered through hypnosis
.
In this chapter, you will hear the story of Enrique, a hotel worker in Belize, who encountered a UFO on his way to purchase supplies for his employer. Returning four hours late with no explanation other than the encounter with the UFO, the event had caused him personal problems at home
.
“I hear you like stories about UFOs,” the waiter said as he set a bowl of tortillas in front of me.
“Yes, I collect stories about UFOs.”
“I have a story. I get off in forty-five minutes. If you would like to hear my story, I will meet you in the bar.” I agreed to meet him later in the hotel lounge. I watched him move to the side of the room, where he kept an eye on all of the patrons in the restaurant. He had introduced himself earlier in the week as Enrique, the head waiter. A short, stout man with coarse, black hair plastered down with hair oil, he ruled the dining room with an iron hand. In the several days I stayed at the hotel, I observed his meticulous attention to detail. He spoke to the other waiters in the local Mayan dialect, and yet he appeared fluent in Spanish, English, and French.
When I arrived at the bar about forty-five minutes later, he stood as I approached. He had chosen two wicker chairs in a corner for privacy. “Tell me, Doctora. Will you make me famous if I tell you my story?” he asked, smiling.
“That depends on whether you want people to know who you are,” I replied. “People are skeptics. They will know if you speak the truth.”
“I am a devout Catholic. I always speak the truth,” he replied. After ordering the local sangria for both of us, he began his story. “I am K’iche’ Maya. I have worked twenty years at this hotel. I make more money than all the men combined in my village. Yet, sometimes, I think the village men are richer than me. But because of my loyalty to the hotel, I am a trusted employee. I often go to the city to run errands for the hotel restaurant when the owner is too busy to go. I saw a UFO on such a trip.”
“When did the event occur?” I asked.
“Last month. It was very early morning. I left my home about 6 a.m. I wanted to get to the city when the shops opened so I could return to the restaurant before dinnertime. The drive is monotonous. I became sleepy and decided to pull off the side of the road, walk around, and smoke a cigarette. My drive had been uneventful, and I was ahead of schedule.” He paused, fished a cigarette out of a pack in his front shirt pocket, lit it, and took a long drag, releasing the smoke slowly. “The sun was coming up, the air was still, and it was cool.” He paused, sipped from the glass of sangria, and inhaled his cigarette. “I was standing just in front of the van looking toward the south when I saw something out of the corner of my eye. At first I thought it was an airplane and I became frightened. It was very low, and I thought it was going to crash. When it came my way, I realized there were no wings. It was like a big
I
never saw Gabriel again even though I looked for him on my return trips to Belize. One thing is for sure: I will never forget him. He held in his hands evidence that giants from space existed and once walked the planet Earth. Not only that, they were giants of the blue kind
.
Chapter 6
The Insect Man
“M
issing time” is a phenomenon that is often reported in connection with UFO encounters. It refers to a gap in conscious memory and can last for several hours with no recall of what occurred during that time period. The memory of what happened during the missing time reported is often recovered through hypnosis
.
In this chapter, you will hear the story of Enrique, a hotel worker in Belize, who encountered a UFO on his way to purchase supplies for his employer. Returning four hours late with no explanation other than the encounter with the UFO, the event had caused him personal problems at home
.
“I hear you like stories about UFOs,” the waiter said as he set a bowl of tortillas in front of me.
“Yes, I collect stories about UFOs.”
“I have a story. I get off in forty-five minutes. If you would like to hear my story, I will meet you in the bar.” I agreed to meet him later in the hotel lounge. I watched him move to the side of the room, where he kept an eye on all of the patrons in the restaurant. He had introduced himself earlier in the week as Enrique, the head waiter. A short, stout man with coarse, black hair plastered down with hair oil, he ruled the dining room with an iron hand. In the several days I stayed at the hotel, I observed his meticulous attention to detail. He spoke to the other waiters in the local Mayan dialect, and yet he appeared fluent in Spanish, English, and French.
When I arrived at the bar about forty-five minutes later, he stood as I approached. He had chosen two wicker chairs in a corner for privacy. “Tell me, Doctora. Will you make me famous if I tell you my story?” he asked, smiling.
“That depends on whether you want people to know who you are,” I replied. “People are skeptics. They will know if you speak the truth.”
“I am a devout Catholic. I always speak the truth,” he replied. After ordering the local sangria for both of us, he began his story. “I am K’iche’ Maya. I have worked twenty years at this hotel. I make more money than all the men combined in my village. Yet, sometimes, I think the village men are richer than me. But because of my loyalty to the hotel, I am a trusted employee. I often go to the city to run errands for the hotel restaurant when the owner is too busy to go. I saw a UFO on such a trip.”
“When did the event occur?” I asked.
“Last month. It was very early morning. I left my home about 6 a.m. I wanted to get to the city when the shops opened so I could return to the restaurant before dinnertime. The drive is monotonous. I became sleepy and decided to pull off the side of the road, walk around, and smoke a cigarette. My drive had been uneventful, and I was ahead of schedule.” He paused, fished a cigarette out of a pack in his front shirt pocket, lit it, and took a long drag, releasing the smoke slowly. “The sun was coming up, the air was still, and it was cool.” He paused, sipped from the glass of sangria, and inhaled his cigarette. “I was standing just in front of the van looking toward the south when I saw something out of the corner of my eye. At first I thought it was an airplane and I became frightened. It was very low, and I thought it was going to crash. When it came my way, I realized there were no wings. It was like a big
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