Yes, hello?, I was flying cargo routes between the islands back in 1991. Small plane, twin-engine Cessna, nothing fancy. Mostly medical supplies, mail, whatever needed moving between São Tomé and Príncipe. I'd been doing it for maybe three years at that point. This was an evening flight, around six thirty, sun getting low. I was maybe 15 minutes out from Príncipe Airport when my co-pilot tapped my shoulder. He pointed out the right side window and said something in Portuguese I didn't catch. But I looked. There was something flying alongside us. Maybe 200 feet off our starboard side, keeping perfect pace with the plane.
At first I thought it was some kind of debris caught in a thermal or something. But it wasn't drifting. It was moving deliberately, and here's the thing, it was moving wrong. The thing looked like a bundle of sticks, maybe six or seven feet long, all knotted together. Dark brown, almost black. But instead of flying smooth, it was jerking through the air. You know when you throw bacon on a hot pan and it curls and jumps? That exact motion. Sizzling. That's the only word for it. Quick little spasms, twitching movements, but somehow staying level with us. My co-pilot was Catholic, very religious guy, and he started praying. I could hear him muttering under his breath. I kept watching the thing. We were cruising at about 140 knots, and this bundle of sticks or whatever it was matched our speed perfectly. Every twitch, every jerk, it stayed right there off our wing.
I reduced our airspeed a bit, just to test it. Dropped down to maybe 120 knots. The thing slowed with us. Still doing that sizzling movement, but it adjusted its speed like it knew exactly what we were doing. Then I saw what might have been a head. Or maybe just a thicker part at one end of the bundle. It rotated toward the cockpit, and I swear I saw something that looked like an eye. Just one. Perfectly round, reflecting the sunlight. Yellow or gold, I couldn't tell which. My co-pilot grabbed my arm. He wanted me to bank away, get some distance. to change course - Nick' But I was locked in. Couldn't stop staring at this thing. It was alive. I knew it was alive. The way it moved, the way it tracked us, that wasn't wind or physics. That was intent.
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