In July of 1992, a witness, accompanied by his friend took part in a fishing tournament at Smith and Sayles Reservoir, a small lake in central Rhode Island surrounded by dense greenery, weathered cottages and a few very expensive houses. As the tournament wrapped up in the midsummer twilight, the fishing began to pick up. “Rob” convinced his friend to have few beers by their truck before going back out for a “night bite”. It was dark when they launched their small fishing craft from the sole public boat ramp on the reservoir, a crumbling slab of concrete at the edge of a spit of dirt and gravel that was the small parking lot.
Around 11 pm they had stopped their boat a few yards off of the rocky shore of a small grassy peninsula and fished in the darkness. There was a house at the base of the peninsula, dark and seemingly uninhabited, a small cottage devoid of any obvious signs of occupation whose nearest neighbors were dozens of yards away and obscured by tall trees and growth. Behind the house was a cove and a narrow bit of water leading to a dam. There were no lights on in any of the houses around the shore of the reservoir. The night was silent, still and black.
As the two fished they became aware of a light in the cove—at first a dim glow that rapidly brightened—and Rob’s first thought was that a helicopter was landing at or near the cove. Rob immediately felt ridiculous at the thought, there was no sound of an engine, no rushing of wind from rotors (they were that close), no bending of the trees and tall grasses that surrounded the reservoir. As they each acknowledged the light and agreed that there was curiously no obvious source for it, the light immediately dimmed and they assumed that a vehicle had come down the narrow dirt road which led to the cottage and then had immediately backed away although they had neither seen nor heard any wheels crunching their way up the dirt track.
They continued to fish and after a short while, they noticed lights in the small house. It looked like children playing with flashlights, frantically moving the beams of light around the main room and out of the windows. Rob and his friend had assumed someone had come home, maybe a family (although they had seen no vehicles come or go) and were possibly moving through a darkened house as if trying to find the lights or a breaker box. They fished for a moment more, and then things got very weird.
Although they had heard no one approach the house or the shore, they suddenly spotted a very tall person accompanied by someone—or something—much smaller at the water’s edge. They immediately recognized that the taller human-shaped figure was abnormally tall, well over seven feet, and it held what looked like a flashlight. The two figures appeared to be looking for something on the shore. At first, they seemed to be illuminated from the glow of the light, perhaps reflecting off of the surface of the shoreline, but as they continued to look, they saw that the humanoid figures were themselves illuminated, glowing pale blue as if from within. The two men silently shared a mutual, creeping fear as they saw that the shoreline was now crowded with fifteen to twenty human-shaped beings of vastly differing sizes, all glowing pale blue in the surrounding inky darkness. The inhuman shapes were now all silently facing the two men. The first figure they had seen—nearly eight feet tall and glowing eerily from within—was now shining its light directly at the two men.
Fear overtook the two fishermen. Rob’s partner shouted “Let’s get out of here!” but Rob was well ahead of him, pulling the choke and attempting to start up the small outboard motor of their fishing boat. Rob was desperately trying to get the engine to turn over keeping one eye on it, and one eye on their strange company on the shore. The men watched in horror as the small flashlight-shaped object was now traveling over the water and towards them, and as Rob finally managed to get the engine chugging and the small vessel facing away from that fearsome shoreline and moving from it at an excruciatingly slow pace, the light was now above them, some eight feet above their heads and encircling the boat in a small, dim cone. Rob opened the engine up and they were soon traveling as fast as they could across the black glass of the water. The light was no longer above them, and soon they were across the reservoir to the concrete boat launch, frantically pulling the small craft out of the water and into their truck. They stopped, sweating, and noticed a swelling chorus—dozens of dogs barking all along the perimeter of the lake which had been silent all night—before leaping in their truck and speeding up the dark dirt track and away from the reservoir as fast as possible.
Rob and his friend promised never to tell anyone what had happened to them that night, and it wasn’t until 2017 that Rob reported the event to MUFON, where this writer admittedly found it pretty difficult to investigate. For starters, there was no UFO or anomalous craft observed and despite the terrifying presence of glowing humanoid figures crowding the shoreline (and the small cottage) the encounter could have a decidedly more paranormal or ghostly explanation as if there ever is such an explanation surrounding a story like this. Rhode Island’s dark interior is rife with high weirdness, and the unwillingness of any of the reservoir’s locals to talk to me while investigating this encounter perfectly encapsulates the protective nature of these communities, especially when it comes to their secrets.