PART ONE

Growing up, I always assumed I was born into a typical military family. But as I got older, I began to realize that there was something more to my family’s history. The truth would eventually be revealed through my own determination.

From a young age, I had vivid memories of seeing flying crafts that didn’t seem to fit the technology of the 1960’s. In fact, the design of this particular aircraft wouldn’t be publicly known until the Secretary of Defence, Harold Brown, announced the Lockheed F-117 Nighthawk at a press conference in 1980. It was a stealth aircraft, a concept that was years ahead of its time. Yet, as a child of only five, I was already drawing a similar vehicle.

In my twenties, I was astonished to see the F-117 Nighthawk featured in the newspaper. When I compared it to the drawings I’d made over the years, I was amazed by the similarities. It was as if the United States Air Force had secretly designed a stealth aircraft based on my childhood visions.

That’s when I realized I was different.

I’ve always been fascinated by the Roswell UFO incident, feeling a deep connection to it, even though I couldn’t quite explain why. I firmly believed the U.S. military and government were concealing the truth, and the weather balloon explanation was merely a cover-up.

Whenever I heard about the “Grey” aliens, I would get shivers down my spine. I instinctively felt that these beings were my enemies, and perhaps they were even searching for me. As strange as it sounds, the fear was very real. It was at that point that I decided to investigate my birth certificate for any unusual details.

After years of research, I discovered that my parents weren’t my biological parents. DNA tests revealed a significant genetic mismatch. Soon after, two military officers arrived at my doorstep, requesting that I accompany them. Initially thinking it was a joke, I asked if my father was behind it. However, they didn’t laugh. I immediately felt like a prisoner.

They secretly transported me to Area 51, where I was subjected to rigorous interrogation and medical examinations. Without my consent, they extracted skin and blood samples for weeks. Then, unexpectedly, I found myself in a Caesars Palace hotel room in Las Vegas. Bewildered and disoriented, it took months to piece together my fragmented memories.

I soon realized that someone had implanted a tracking device beneath my skin. Despite the pain, I removed it. Determined to uncover my true identity, I decided to infiltrate Area 51 once again, this time undetected. I needed to understand what was happening.

Area 51 is notorious for its heavy security, including infrared surveillance. However, I had constructed a cloaking suit designed to evade detection. I seemed to possess advanced knowledge and abilities, almost as if I could access information directly from my brain.

I infiltrated Area 51 undetected, feeling like a modern-day James Bond. From the outside, the base appeared to be a typical airfield with rows of hangars. However, a hidden elevator led five stories underground to a vast, secret laboratory. Here, I discovered a damaged, circular spacecraft, often referred to as a “flying saucer.”

My mind immediately connected to the origin of this particular model. I knew it wasn’t from a friendly source, but rather from the malevolent “Grey” aliens. The military had apparently recovered injured and deceased “Greys” in the late 1940s. Fortunately for them, they hadn’t encountered the full brutality of these evil beings.

It still didn’t answer my questions of why I was so different from everyone else. All I knew was , that the fearful “Greys”, weren’t my ancestors, so I had to dig further. Evading personnel, I stumbled upon another underground hangar housing a test spacecraft resembling the Lockheed F-117 Nighthawk, but with a crucial difference: it had no windows and was twice the size . Intrigued, I touched the hull, and the cockpit opened, revealing a spacious four-seater interior designed for astronauts. It was clear that this craft was intended for space exploration.

Shaking my head, I couldn’t believe the U.S. government was withholding such vital information from its citizens. The standard excuse, ‘classified military information,’ was a blatant lie. They claimed it was for our safety, but this spacecraft was far more significant. It seemed like the government was collaborating with an extraterrestrial intelligence. It was impossible for the military to possess such advanced technology on their own. As the saying goes, if it walks like a duck, talks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, it probably is a duck. In this case, the U.S. government appeared to have received assistance from an otherworldly source.

I needed to learn more about this extraterrestrial source. Could they be my ancestors? Perhaps I was a hybrid, a combination of human and alien DNA that only my ancestors knew about. Why else would the military be so interested in me? I suspect the U.S. government may have confronted their alien allies, and that’s why they tried to discard me in Las Vegas, believing they had erased my memory. They underestimated my resilience.

CONTINUED…

Bari Marcus Anthony