Sprites, Blue Jets, and Elves: The Ghostly Lightshows Above the Storm

Above the chaos of thunder, past the crackle of lightning and the rumble that shakes windows and bones, something stranger dances.
Not lightning exactly…but ghostlight.
Ethereal. Fleeting. Often missed, even by those who chase storms for a living.

They have names that sound like folklore: sprites, blue jets, and elves. But these aren’t fairy tales. They’re real atmospheric phenomena that science is only beginning to understand…silent streaks and shimmering halos that light up the sky above the storm, far beyond what we normally see.

So what are they? Why do they appear? And what are they trying to tell us about the wild, electric orchestra playing above our heads?

Let’s climb into the upper atmosphere and meet the spirits of the storm.

The Secret Sky Above the Storm

Most of us think of thunderstorms as downward shows.
Lightning bolts pierce the sky, traveling from clouds to ground or cloud to cloud in explosive, jagged flashes.
But above the storm (higher than commercial airplanes, lower than satellites) is a space rarely explored by the human eye.

It’s here, in the mesosphere and stratosphere, that something otherworldly happens.

These upper-atmosphere light events weren’t even confirmed until the late 20th century. Pilots spoke of strange blue tendrils stretching toward space. Astronauts reported red flashes shooting upward. And in 1989, researchers at the University of Minnesota accidentally captured the first visual evidence of sprites…while studying regular lightning.

Since then, scientists have uncovered an entire gallery of exotic atmospheric phenomena, glowing and vanishing in milliseconds, like whispers of a deeper sky.

What Are Sprites?

Sprites are tall, reddish-orange flashes of light that appear above large thunderstorms. They shoot upward from the tops of clouds into the mesosphere, often branching out like jellyfish or columns of electricity.

But don’t confuse them with lightning…they’re different beasts.

Key facts:

  • Sprites occur between 50–90 kilometers (30–55 miles) above the Earth.

  • They’re triggered by positive lightning; a rare and powerful form of lightning that flows from the top of a thundercloud.

  • They last less than 1/1000th of a second but can stretch up to 30 miles in height.

They don’t roar. They don’t crack. They simply flash…and vanish.

And yet, they’re massive. So why do we almost never see them?

Because sprites are shy. They’re faint, fast, and often hidden by the storm clouds below them. You have to be above the storm, or far away on a clear night, to catch them. Some storm chasers head to mountaintops just for the chance.

Blue Jets: Lightning’s Skyward Cousin

Now imagine a beam of blue light shooting up from the storm’s heart into the stratosphere like a spear.

That’s a blue jet…the lightning that goes the wrong way.

Fast facts:

  • Blue jets shoot upward from the top of thunderclouds.

  • They travel up to 50 kilometers high, fading as they approach the edge of space.

  • Their blue color comes from the ionization of nitrogen in the upper atmosphere.

  • They move at incredible speeds…sometimes at 100 km per second!

Unlike sprites, blue jets come from within the storm. They’re triggered by electrical discharges inside the cloud that find an escape hatch toward space, instead of the ground.

They don’t just look like lightning bolts…they are. But inverted.

And they, too, are nearly impossible to see from the ground.

Elves: The Flashy Halos of the Ionosphere

Then there are the elves…an acronym, not a woodland creature (sadly!). ELVES stands for:

Emissions of Light and Very Low Frequency Perturbations due to Electromagnetic Pulse Sources

Yes, it’s a mouthful. But the phenomenon is just as enchanting.

Elves appear as huge, expanding halos…circles of red or green light, up to 400 kilometers wide, forming for just a millisecond above storms.

They occur at the very edge of space, in the ionosphere, when a strong lightning bolt creates an electromagnetic pulse. That pulse travels up and energizes the thin upper atmosphere, causing it to glow in a ring.

You can’t see elves unless you’re extremely lucky...or in space.

They’re huge. But they’re ghosts. Silent and gone in the blink of an eye.

How They’re Captured

Catching these phenomena is an art and a science. Regular lightning is easy: point and shoot. But sprites and friends? They need:

  • High-speed cameras

  • Special low-light sensors

  • Dark skies far from city lights

  • A storm big enough to roar skyward

Often, they’re captured accidentally. The International Space Station has been a surprising window into them. So have meteorological balloons, specialized cameras mounted on aircraft, and even amateur skywatchers with fast reflexes and long exposure settings.

In fact, some of the best images have come from people who were just…watching. With a little curiosity and a lot of patience.

What They Reveal About Our Atmosphere

These ghost lights are more than beautiful oddities. They tell us that lightning isn’t just a ground event, it affects the entire atmospheric column!

Sprites, blue jets, and elves:

  • Show us how electric energy travels upward toward space.

  • Help us understand electromagnetic fields and plasma physics.

  • May even affect satellite signals and radio wave propagation.

Some scientists believe that frequent sprites may even have a role in the chemistry of our atmosphere, impacting the ozone layer or the balance of nitrogen compounds.

They’re sky symptoms (like bruises on the atmosphere) telling us that massive electric events are sending ripple effects far beyond what we see or feel on the ground.

Can You See Them?

Yes…but you need luck, timing, and altitude.

To increase your chances:

  • Look during big thunderstorm systems, especially at night.

  • Be far away from the storm, ideally on a high hill or mountain.

  • Look above the lightning flashes…not where the bolt hits, but higher.

  • Use a fast-frame camera or slow-exposure video.

Sprites are the easiest of the three to see, if you’re persistent.

Blue jets and elves? They’re more often spotted from aircraft or space.

Want to try your luck capturing a sprite? A good low-light camera for skywatchers can help you chase those elusive flashes…especially if you’re heading to a mountaintop on a stormy night.

Nature’s Hidden Lightshow

There’s something humbling about the fact that we’ve lived under these storms for millennia and only just realized there’s a symphony above them.

These flashes don’t come for applause. They’re not for us. They’re for the sky itself. Silent performers in the theatre of thunder.

Maybe that’s what makes them so mesmerizing.

Why We’re Just Beginning to Understand

The upper atmosphere is notoriously difficult to study. It’s too high for planes, too low for satellites, and too chaotic for weather balloons to linger long.

That’s why these lights remained hidden for so long. Even with all our science, we’re only now starting to piece together what they are and why they happen.

We still don’t fully understand:

  • Why some storms produce them and others don’t.

  • How frequently they happen on Earth.

  • Whether they’re increasing with climate shifts and warmer storms.

But each sighting adds to the growing map of high-altitude electricity—an unseen world just above our heads.

Earth Isn’t the Only Stage

What’s even more incredible? We’ve now seen sprites and blue jets on other planets.

  • Jupiter and Saturn, with their massive storms, are believed to have their own versions of these atmospheric flashes.

  • NASA’s Juno mission even captured sprites on Jupiter…flashes that may occur in hydrogen-rich skies.

Electric storms aren’t just an Earth thing. They’re a universal song, sung in different octaves depending on the planet. Our sprites are just the first verse.

Sprites, Jets, Elves, and Awe

There’s a word for what they leave us with: awe. That quiet astonishment that pulls your heart toward the stars.

They remind us that Earth is still full of mystery. That the sky still holds secrets. That the storm doesn’t end at the clouds, it climbs.

We’ve mapped the oceans. We’ve roamed the deserts. But we’re still finding fairytales in the sky.

Real ones. Electric ones. Glowing and gone before you can whisper their names.

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