Orville came to town when I was a first grader, which was where the whole Colorado mystery thing started for me.
Orville was a UFO that appeared most every night for a month or so. Or maybe it was a bright light that would crown a hill when someone was driving home at night. Or maybe it was a story the high school boys made up. I heard fresh stories every morning at school, and I hung on every description. My imagination was on fire.
Nobody seemed to know, and I sure didn’t, the truth about Orville. I was only six, and I opted for a UFO. That was much more exciting. Who chooses reasonable when you’re six?
Not The Data
Advance to my ninth-grade year, when I had to do a science project. With that beloved Orville story embossed in my brain, I opted for a UFO-focused display. It was all about the story for me. Definitely not the data.
I hauled my younger brother out to a nearby field where he flung garbage cans and old footballs in the air while I took photos with a shaky hand. Sure enough, those photos resembled UFOs. I even made a cardboard saucer spray painted silver with Christmas lights flashing inside. To impress the judges.
Don’t ask what my hypothesis was, except maybe to see if UFO photos could be duplicated. We had fun throwing things in the air, though.
None of this dazzled the judges. I was thinking blue ribbon. Champion. That sort of thing. I think the judges were looking for data and premise. Science stuff. So no blue ribbon for me.
The Next Puzzle
Fast forward. Now I’m out of college and curious about a new Colorado mystery. A whole spate of cattle mutilations were reported across the state. Once again, the puzzle deepened. Aliens stealing cow parts? Cults staging rituals? The FBI investigated – and blamed the deaths on common predators. Colorado ranchers differed.
You might think of Colorado as a state of rugged ski slopes or mountains thick with evergreen trees and elk. But I think it’s also known as an enigma. I say this as a Colorado native.
The oddities just keep coming.
A New Question Mark
A mysterious monolith popped up like a mushroom in northern Colorado last summer. A tall, rectangular, metal mushroom. I know mushrooms aren’t exactly metallic, but don’t get all analytical on me now. Remember, I’m the storyteller.
The landowner, who also owns the Howling Cow Cafe near the monument, doesn’t know who or what is behind this appearance.
She didn’t even to ask people about it. Just let the mystery continue. How she did that is another riddle to me. My questions would have been springing like popcorn.
Apparently, a similar monolith showed up near Las Vegas earlier this summer. Imagine finding a connection between Las Vegas and northern Colorado. Vegas, where high rollers match wits with glittering casinos. Northern Colorado, where cows and deer roam the grassland. The differences are minuscule.
Some of the Colorado locals say the metal mushroom reminds them of the monolith from 2001: A Space Odyssey, which spawns more ideas for me. Is this thing the alien? Or is it the space ship that delivered out aliens the size of ants or grasshoppers?
We did have an abundance of grasshoppers in northern Colorado this summer … But I digress.
An Unsolved Mystery
The Howling Cow Cafe first scored on sales of drinks like Beam Me Up, Crop Circle, and Radio Waves. Their monthly ice cream flavor was named Cow Abductions.
But after an onslaught of lookie-loos, the landowner sent out a forklift team to haul off the monolith. It’s now said to be in safe storage until the creator claims it.
Maybe I need to write something more. I mean, between Orville, flying garbage cans, dead cattle, and monoliths, I’m ideally equipped.
So, what’s your theory? Your ideas will absolutely, totally, never-ever show up in any story I write. Unless I change my mind.
I may be another Colorado mystery.
