Day 2

The midnight air was thick with the dry heat that permeated the afternoon. Still the tourists lingered, their hats on their heads to protect them from a sun that was no longer in the sky. The cameras flashed into the night, trying to capture the miracle in the fields far away. I quietly observed this from my perch. A smooth rock above the parking alcove for guests. From here I could watch all the men and woman gape, the town below, and of course the magic.

That's what it was. Magic. Some actually thought it was an alien wonder planted on earth for us mere humans. The Marfa Lights, they called them. Orbs of light drifting across the smooth sand of Texas. Flying, but always hovering in the same place.

They were beautiful. 

The tourists even dedicated a festival to them. They aren't aliens. I've watched each night and the stars move towards them. Slowly. But I saw them creep closer. 

The lights are beacons. Like light houses calling to ships on a sea's tempests. 

Some believed the connection was aliens, not me. I believed it was magic. Magic flowing through the skies and tying it seamlessly to the lights. 

Lights that glow blue and purple and magenta. 

Like pixie dust.