As most of you who have read my submissions know, I've had a lot of experiences with the paranormal. I'm not saying that as a form of bragging or to impress, it's just a statement of fact. However, until recently, I thought I had not encountered the most commonly claimed; that of seeing orbs. Not in any picture I ever took, or any unexplained happening have I seen anything I'd term an orb.
At least, that's what I thought, until I read "Biblio At Warwick Castle" (https://www.yourghoststories.com/real-ghost-story.php?story=26429), and his description of an orb he witnessed.
This particular line, "I did not wear glasses at that point in time, so I know it wasn't a reflection; it looked like an electric dandelion seed, floating lazily about the room about five feet above the floor," had me sitting open mouthed, with the phrase Fairy Lights dancing across my mind, as I was catapulted back decades to when I was a child. Until I read his description I never, ever thought that perhaps they were orbs... Just wee bits of a magical realm I was allowed to see.
Back then, I was somewhat of a middle child; the twins (18 years my senior) were married, and my oldest brother was off to war. That left my two older brothers, two younger siblings and myself with our parents. Naturally being 4 and 5 years younger than the boys, and a GIRL to boot, my brothers would often ditch me unless I could be of some use to them. My remaining sister was 2 years younger, and baby brother was 5 years my junior; Mom was often too busy with them or sorting out the older ones to pay me much mind.
I was about 6 when I saw the lights the first time. We had just moved, yet again. This house had a very large yard, with a field running next to it. It was dusk, and we 'older' kids were almost dizzy with the freedom of being outside without a grown up. We had been shown the yard's perimeter and instructed to stay in it, but that didn't stop my brothers from giving me the dodge, so I was alone with our dog, Rebel, playing in the light that flowed from the house's windows.
When I saw the first light, I remember thinking, 'lightening bug', but then I noticed it didn't blink, the way they do. It was a steady glow, very soft, and a bit fuzzy at the edges. I watched as it floated about and was soon joined by another, and another. I remember thinking how pretty they were, as dozens of these miniature 'electric dandelion seeds', soon appeared, some coming quite close to me, before changing direction and rejoining the others. I glanced at Rebel, who had seated himself by my side. He gave no indication of anything being amiss, but seemed to be watching them too.
Being six, I decided that those lights could only be the lights of fairies off to some wondrous party. I watched them fade out of sight.
The lights were not a nightly thing, but then neither was being outdoors at dusk. I tried telling about them, but was only laughed at, told I was mistaken, and they were lightening bugs. After that, I kept my sightings to myself.
Flash forwards a few years. We've moved several times, and the fairy lights seem to be a thing of the past. It's winter, and I'm finally coming home from a short hospital stay. (Nothing dramatic, just a simple tonsil and adenoid removal.) There had been some complications and instead of being overnight, I had been kept nearly a week. I'm almost 12, and sit in the back seat being quiet, and looking out the window. My throat was still raw, making speech difficult, which was just as well; my father had already made it quite clear that he'd rather be doing anything else but bringing me home, while my Mom was quietly euphoric about it, reaching back to pat my hand now and then, or asking me if I was hungry. It wouldn't have surprised me if she'd had jello in her purse in case I said yes.
It's almost dark as we approach the big bridge going home. It's a very long bridge, something like 507 feet long. I gaze out, down into the water, and see tiny fairy lights dancing here and there. Mentally I sort them out from the reflected lights. I hear my dad ask what the hell am I looking at. Without thinking I croak, "the fairy lights." I hear him tell my mom that with an imagination like mine I'd never be lonely. Just then, one came up quite close to my window, and stayed even with us as we crossed the bridge's span. At the end it turned going through the girder. I didn't bother to even mention it. But, it's always been enough for me to know that no matter where I was there was always the possibility of fairy lights.