That's something not of this Earth
An explosion, far in the distance.
The military was already there, staking out campsites 7 miles away. No one wanted any closer. They preferred their binoculars, their robots, their satellites.
30 minutes go by. The soldiers creep closer, praying amongst themselves. They don’t want this to be the death of them, they want to go home. But orders are orders. The circle of armed forces tightens.
The craft is sleek, jet-black with chrome highlights. It is teardrop-shaped, except for strange items hanging from the sides, seeming to defy gravity. They float, as if not bound by simple rules of physics.
A daring move is made. It is five hours later. No radios, no waves of any kind are coming out. The army is moving in.
When they get within 100 yards, the bottom of the craft pops off, falling into the sand and shooting straight down, creating cracks in the ground.
One soldier nervously remarks to another, “What is that thing?”
The older man looks directly at the craft.
“That’s something not of this Earth.”