Estimated reading time — 99 minutes

If you’ve spent any time looking into Mothman, or cryptids in general, you’re probably familiar with the so-called “Pellington Mothman film”. One of the most famous pieces of cryptid lost media, it was supposedly shot by paranormal researcher John Pellington in 1976, during the second wave of Mothman sightings in Point Pleasant. Sheriff Linda Johnson, one of the people claiming to have seen the film for herself. gave the following description on the Unsolved Mysteries episode ‘Mothman’: “What I saw on that film will be burned into my mind for the rest of my life. The film was black and white. It first showed a man, someone I happened to have known personally lying in the middle of the forest. I don’t know if he was dead, or just unconscious. He had a brown jacket that was all torn up, like it had huge claw marks on it and his head was covered by a large hat. Then out of the dark steps this, this thing. There were several people close to the camera, and they all shined their lights on it. It was shaped like a person, but it clearly wasn’t, it looked more like a huge bug of some kind. Its eyes were glowing, and it had these two large arms with claws, and then two smaller ones at its chest. On its head were long antennae and the mouth was just a whole bunch of parts that were all moving and smacking against each other. It stood there for a moment, then it leaned down to the body and grabbed it with all four of its arms. This is when one of the people, a woman raised up a rifle and it looked like she tried to fire at it. But it just folded out these huge wings, like moth wings and took off, taking the body with it.” Watching this episode, and the horrifying reenactment of this specific scene traumatized me as a kid. I still remember lying awake at night, looking out the window to the nearby forest for any signs of Mothman. As I grew older, this story continued to stick in the back of my mind as a dim childhood memory, until one day it bubbled up to the surface, leading to me asking myself “What the hell was that about?”. Tracing down the episode of Unsolved Mysteries wasn’t difficult (season 12 episode 6, it’s on YouTube), but it didn’t give much info on the film besides the one account and the reenactment. So, I decided to do some more digging. I found that, even though multiple people have attested to having watched this film, or even having been present while it was taken, the film itself has never surfaced. There also weren’t a lot of details about the circumstances in which it was taken, all I could find is that it happened during the filming of a Mothman centered documentary. Most disturbing yet intriguing, I found that Pellington himself was admitted to a mental hospital not long after announcing the filming of his documentary. Believers cite this as proof that he was in fact haunted by the Mothman, which caused him to go insane, while skeptics cite this as the origin of the ‘Pellington film urban legend’. But at this point my research hit a dead end. Mere online searching wouldn’t help me any further. But since I didn’t live that far away from Point Pleasant, West Virginia myself, one summer I made the decision to head over there myself and see if I could find something there, maybe by checking the town’s archives or looking for other witnesses who might have been involved. What I expected to be only a brief trip, turned into a months-long research project that led to me unearthing a number of documents that shed a lot of much needed light on this case. Most importantly, I was able to trace down the personal writings of investigative journalist Emily Sherwood, which provide a detailed firsthand account of the events leading up to the shooting of the film, as well as the aftermath. As I quickly found, the story doesn’t end with the film being taken, in fact it only keeps getting stranger and stranger. The following posts will present a timeline of the bizarre events that took place in that October of 1976, consisting primarily of the writings from Emily Sherwood’s notebook, transcripts she made of her own audio recording, as well as some other various bits of newspaper accounts, etc. I also included a few brief notes of my own for context. But still, the Pellington film itself continues to elude me. This is why I have decided to post what I was able to find so far, in hopes that someone might be able to provide further details. To anyone wanting to read through all of this, I will warn you that the further you go down this case, the more puzzling and disturbing it gets, which is also what makes it so fascinating.

The first document in this chronology is a newspaper article, published in the Point Pleasant Register on September 24th ,1976 and written by local journalist Woodrow Barker, who will continue to be an important figure during the entire case:

Paranormal Expert to Visit Point Pleasant as Mothman Sightings Continue

It has been more than 10 years since two couples driving through the remote TNT area described their hair-rising encounter with a “man-sized bird… creature… something” that plunged our small town into a wave of terror for the next year. The elusive ‘Mothman’ which spooked so many of our residents is set to have been more than seven feet tall, shaped like a man with enormous black wings and piercing red eyes, described by one eyewitness as “red like you never saw red”. The creature was first reported on November 15th, 1966, and continued to terrorize Point Pleasant for over a year, with the most dramatic encounters describing it chasing after or landing on the witnesses’ car, or peering through the windows of one terrified family as it tried to enter their home. Then, on December 15th, 1967 tragedy struck, as the Silver Bridge that connected Point Pleasant to Gallipolis, Ohio collapsed, killing 46 people in the process. It was on that day, that sightings of the Mothman virtually stopped, leaving many to wonder if the presence of this strange being could have been an omen of some sort, perhaps a warning or even a curse that had befallen this town. In the following years, things started to quiet down again. Most outsiders who had heard of this string of sightings simply dismissed them as mass hysteria, a few rural townspeople that got scared by owls at night. But those who actually saw it, are still haunted by the terror they witnessed and insist that what they saw could not have been any ordinary bird. And whatever this terror is, it may have just made its second appearance. On August 13th, 1976, at around 10 pm, local resident Ace Dewitt was out hunting with his dog near the TNT area when he encountered what he first thought to be an owl sitting up in a tree. As he got nearer to it, he realized it was much too large, even larger than a person, still staring at him with enormous red eyes. At this point he became scared and fired his rifle towards it, to which it let out a deep howl and soared up into the night. He reported this sighting to county Sheriff Linda Johnson and after it hit the press, many others came forward with their own accounts, confirming that the Mothman, whatever it is, had indeed returned. Due to its frequent appearances near the abandoned munitions plant commonly known as the ‘TNT area’, many speculate now as they did 10 years ago that the Mothman was in reality created by our own government and is now haunting the ruins of the facility where it was once held captive. One of the most vehement proponents of this theory is paranormal investigator John Pellington, who cites accounts of eyewitnesses being intimidated by so called ‘Men in Black’ as evidence of a government cover up of the Mothman’s real nature. Only a few days ago, he announced his upcoming trip to Point Pleasant with the purpose of filming a documentary about the recent sightings, hoping to “reveal the reality of Mothman and expose the wrongdoing perpetrated by our own government”. He plans to set out into the TNT area with his camera crew to capture footage of our elusive local beast. Also said to appear in his documentary is notable Mothman skeptic Emily Sherwood, a long-term writer for the magazine Skeptical Inquirer, her purpose is to provide a more “rational perspective” during the course of Pellington’s documentary. She also plans to conduct her own separate investigation into the sightings, which will appear as an article in Skeptical Inquirer, with the likely goal to debunk the existence of Mothman. However, many remain curious as to what Pellington and his crew might be able to document in that remote area, whose curse never seems to fully lose its grip on our town.

Starting now are the personal notes made by Sherwood, which were meant as drafts for her Skeptical Enquirer article, that she never ended up writing:

October 9th, 1976
When I first heard that sightings of the old Mothman were making a comeback, I immediately suspected that Pellington couldn’t help himself but to resurrect his theories for the occasion. I thought he might write a new book or two, considering how well his first ‘non-fiction’ novel on the topic had performed and that I might write a quick article fact-checking his work. But all in all, I planned to stay out of the Mothman business this time, thinking I had done a well enough job debunking the sightings a number of years ago and that this new wave was nothing but a repeat of the same localized mass hysteria, leaving little for me to add to my original comments. But of course, life never does quite work out the way you plan it, so you can imagine my surprise when I received an invitation from John Pellington himself. Instead of just writing a book, he would take it a step further and film an entire documentary on these new sightings and wanted me to appear in it. ‘Wanted’ might be a strong word however, it was rather that the TV network demanded to have a ‘skeptical voice’ on the program to contrast his own position. This point also depleted my hope that, after all this time, Pellington might have finally taken on a more rational position on this subject. But no, just as his book did before, this new documentary will set out to prove not only the fact that Mothman exists, but that he is an escaped top secret experiment whose existence has been covered up by some vague, yet menacing government agency. Why the government would be working to create a giant bird or moth person, or why such an experiment would go into hiding for ten years reemerging only now to once again spook the local townspeople, I suppose only a keen investigative mind such as Pellington’s could have figured out. But in the end, I am always glad to be able to contribute my views on this subject, even if it is for a sensationalized program like this, so I agreed. I planned a trip over to Point Pleasant, West Virginia, quickly booking myself a hotel room and just like that, almost 6 years after I thought I wrote my last article on this subject, I was back in the Mothman business once again.

Even after all this time I spend writing about this town and its elusive cryptid, I have actually never been to Point Pleasant myself until now. For me, this presents an unprecedented opportunity to conduct my most thorough investigation yet. So far, I had to rely on the eyewitness testimony provided by Pellington and others, but now I could interview the firsthand witnesses myself, inspect the places in which the Mothman was supposedly seen and maybe be able to lay this entire debate to rest once and for all. During the last stretch of my drive, I happened to pass through the thick, forested landscape of the now famous TNT area. Even though I didn’t believe it, I couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy having read all the accounts myself. It was already getting dark, and despite it being the middle of October, there was enough foliage left in the trees to obscure any presence that might be lurking within. It was an easy area for the mind to play tricks on itself and I was glad to be able to leave it behind for now. Finally, I reached the small town of Point Pleasant. It really was your typical small town, none of the buildings were too big, they were square shaped and made from red cinder blocks. At this late hour, it almost seemed like a ghost town, only occasionally did another car or a pedestrian pass my view. The hotel I booked my room in also wasn’t the newest one and could have used a proper renovation, but for my time being here, it would have to do. When I entered and asked for my room, the man behind the counter simply looked up my name and then gave me the key without saying a word. I noticed that nearly all the keys were still present behind him. I had expected more tourists to be here trying to see the Mothman for themselves, but perhaps the novelty of the first sightings had already worn off. Less interruptions to my investigation, I thought and slowly walked up the creaking stairs into my room. It had a bed, a closet, a table with two chairs, and a single lamp that flickered slightly and created an irritating buzzing noise whenever it was turned on. I wouldn’t need it much anyway, as there was a large window next to the bed, from where the light of a nearby streetlight always illuminated the room. For now, I would try to get some sleep, because tomorrow I was going to meet with Pellington himself and my investigation would begin.

October 10th, 1976

Today was the day I would meet Pellington in person for the first time. The idea of being face to face with the man whose writing I have vehemently criticized for so long did make me a little nervous. I was sure that, in his head, he had already prepared rebuttals against every point I was going to make. At least I know that I had against his usual arguments. We agreed to meet at the Point Pleasant Riverfront Park and by the time I got there, he and his camera crew had already set up shop and were in the process of interviewing their first eyewitness. I recognized his face from the papers, it was the hunter Ace Dewitt, whose sighting was the catalyst for the recent Mothman reports. He was an older man, stern faced, with an unkempt beard. I already had my ideas as to what he actually saw, but was going to interview him for myself before reaching an official conclusion. I waited for Pellington to finish his interview, then started to approach him. “Hello, Mr. Pellington? You wanted me for your documentary?” He turned around and immediately stretched out his arm. “Well, if it isn’t Emily Sherwood, it’s an honor to finally meet you in person!” I shook his hand, somewhat surprised by his friendly demeanor. At first glance he seemed like a very average person, not the kind you’d expect to write wild theories about paranormal phenomena. He wore a clean brown suit, and his hair and beard were very well groomed. Still, his neat appearance and friendly introduction weren’t enough to cover an underlying hint of mistrust glaring in his eyes. “It’s an honor to see you too.” I responded. He continued: “I don’t suppose anything happened in the last few years that would have made you change your view on the things happening around here?” “If you mean Mothman, no. There still isn’t any evidence that anything unknown to science is behind these sightings, both the older, and the recent ones.” I said, to which he rebuked: “Not as long as people like you stay closed off to new possibilities.” I was about to respond with my own counter point, but he cut me off: “Let’s not get at each other’s throats already, save that for your article, alright? Let me introduce you around first.” He was right, I thought. If we wanted any kind of cooperation in this investigation, we shouldn’t immediately go off into pointless arguments. “Besides, a lot can happen in the next few weeks.” He turned around and led me up to a man who was currently tinkering with a large camera. “This is George Scarberry, my trusted cameraman. George, meet Emily Sherwood, she is the skeptic I told you about.” Scarberry, a balding man with a walrus mustache, looked up briefly and gave me a nod with an unintelligible grunt. Pellington pointed me to the next man, a young fellow with dark hair, who was scribbling something down in a small notebook. “And this is Woodrow Barker, a local journalist who is going to write his own story for the Point Pleasant Register.” “Nice to meet you.” I introduced myself. He looked up and greeted me with a friendly grin. “Ah yes, Miss Sherwood, the debunker. I cannot believe you came all the way out here just to call us all crazy.” His hostile response caught me off guard: “Of course not, I just don’t think-” “Nah, I’m just kidding.” he interrupted “I don’t really believe this whole thing myself, you know?” “But I read your article” I responded “and it seemed you were quite convinced, with all this talk of people knowing what they saw.” “Ah, you know, the newspapers always want us to play up these sorts of things. Whatever makes them sell more copies. But me personally? I’ll believe in Mothman the moment he crashes head first into my electric bug zapper.” I chuckled at his last comment, but I wasn’t sure if I should commend his skepticism or condemn his willingness to abandon it this easily. “Oh, he’s real alright. Just wait until you’ll see him yourself.” A hoarse voice interrupted our conversation. I turned around and reached my hand out to the rough looking man who now stood right behind us: “Ace Dewitt, I presume. Nice to meet you.” He grabbed my hand reluctantly as his eyes narrowed. “You city folk think you have it all figured out. But we all know he’s real.” “I don’t!” Barker couldn’t help but interject. “That’s just because you ain’t seen him yet, like I have. Sends the soul right out of your body, that sight.” he mumbled. “About that” I began to ask “I would like to interview you about your sighting. If that would be alright with you.” He thought for a moment “It would.” then he turned his head back to me “But you don’t change one word of what I said in your article.” “Of course I won’t, you’ll be able to read it yourself.” I reassured him. Now Pellington got his word back into the conversation: “Mr. Dewitt here kindly agreed to show us the location in which he sighted the creature tomorrow. I assume you would be interested in coming along as well?” he asked me. I most definitely was.

Sherwood recorded all of her interviews as well as some field investigations with a handheld tape recorder. While the actual recordings have been lost as far as I know, the transcripts she made of them have survived. This one documents her first interview with Ace Dewitt:

Sherwood: Alright, let’s start off with some basic details. What’s your full name?

Dewitt: Ace Dewitt.

Sherwood: Your age?

Dewitt: 52

Sherwood: How long have you lived in Point Pleasant?

Dewitt: I’ve lived here my whole life. Point Pleasant has always been my home.

Sherwood: And how long have you been hunting here?

Dewitt: Ever since I was a young boy, my dad used to take me out in the woods, taught me how to shoot his rifle. Same rifle I use today.

Sherwood: What kind of animals do you usually hunt?

Dewitt: Anything that gets in my sight, but mostly owls. There’s a lot of ’em here, they nest in the old factory out there.

Sherwood: Did you ever see anything during the first Mothman sightings?

Dewitt: Yes, I thought I saw some strange bird like thing once. Could have been an owl, but from what I saw, it seemed a bit too large.

Sherwood: And when was this?

Dewitt: This was in 1966, in uh, let me think, no January ’67, it was very early that year.

Sherwood: So shortly after the first sightings were publicized.

Dewitt: Yes, I read about this bird thing in the newspaper and kept my eye out. Thought I could be the one to shoot it. It’d be one hell of a trophy.

Sherwood: Let’s get to your recent sighting. When was this again?

Dewitt: Just two months ago, August 13th.

Sherwood: And at what time of day?

Dewitt: It was already dark so, probably around 11pm.

Sherwood: Alright, just start telling me what happened.

Dewitt: So, I was out hunting in the TNT area, this was near one of the bunkers, with my dog Roger, he’s a very reliable dog. And..

Sherwood: Sorry to interrupt, but do you remember the exact spot where this took place?

Dewitt: Yeah, I always recognize this bunker with its broken door, every time you feel like someone is watching you from in there. I wanted to show the TV guy and the others, remember?

Sherwood: Of course, I’m sorry, please continue. What happened next?

Dewitt: I walked past the bunker and I thought I heard something fly just overhead. I looked around to see where it went, that’s when I saw these two huge red eyes, just staring down at me. I’ve seen all sorts of eyeshine over the years, but I never saw anything this bright or red. I’m still thinking, this is probably an owl. I wasn’t really looking for owls that night, but I wanted to give it a shot, so I got my rifle. That’s when I noticed, Roger was all quiet. I thought it was weird, because usually he gets pretty upset when he sees an owl, that’s why I leave him behind when I go look for them. But he was just staring at this thing, completely frozen. And that’s when I really saw it. I don’t know why, maybe the moon came up from behind the clouds, but something made it more visible than before. It was no owl, it was far bigger, maybe bigger than a person. And it just sat there and kept staring like it was gonna jump at me any moment. At that moment, I felt real fear, like I knew there was some predator, far stronger than me, so I shot at it before it could get me. Then it let out this deep howl, still makes me shudder to this day and it jumped in the air, and I saw its huge wings for just a second before it was gone. You can’t imagine how much my heart was racing at that moment.

Sherwood: Then what did you do?

Dewitt: I just grabbed Roger and went home as quick as possible. I didn’t wanna spend another moment in the woods while that thing was still out there. Even at home I thought it might come back.

Sherwood: And when did you report your sighting?

Dewitt: The next day. I still remember 10 years ago, those teenagers told the sheriff about it, so that’s what I did. Thought if that thing was back, someone should better warn the people.

Sherwood: And you’re certain that what you saw really was Mothman? It couldn’t have been an unusually large owl?

Dewitt: Listen, I would have known if it was an owl. I know all kinds of owls in this area and that was nothing like them. Even Roger knew that’s not what it was.

Sherwood: Alright then, thank you for your time.

(end of recording)

To me, Dewitt seemed like a genuine witness to something he could not identify. That does not mean that what he saw something completely unexplainable. It’s very possible that he did get scared by an owl, an unusually large one, perhaps a species that doesn’t usually appear around this area. Still, I was intrigued to join Pellington’s little expedition, even if my hopes of finding any trace of the actual animal observed by Dewitt were exceedingly low, given the time that had already passed since his sighting.

This next transcribed recording was made on October 11th, during the first expedition to the bunker where Dewitt made his sighting:

Sherwood: 10:05 pm, we have reached the TNT area, and are about to enter into the forest, we’re only waiting for..

Pellington: There he is!

(sound of car approaching)

Barker: I didn’t miss Mothman, did I?

Pellington: No, we’re about to go in, George, is the camera ready?

Scarberry: Ready, boss.

Pellington: Then we’re ready to go. Mr. Dewitt, please go ahead, show us where you saw it.

Dewitt: Sure, it was this way.

(sounds of snapping twigs)

Sherwood: Jesus it’s dark, why did we have to go out here so late?

Barker: You scared already?

Sherwood: No, it’s just, how are we supposed to find evidence, if you can barely see what’s two feet ahead of you?

Pellington: Well, let me ask you, how do you plan on finding Mothman if you only come out here during the day? We all know he’s nocturnal.

Sherwood: Never mind.

Pellington: And you all have your flashlights, right? That should be enough.

Dewitt: You actually want to find him?

Pellington: Of course, why else would we be here?

Dewitt: You wouldn’t say that if you saw what I saw.

Barker: What was that?!

Pellington: What?

Barker: Just a bat or something.

Sherwood: Sure it wasn’t Mothman?

Barker: Well, if it was, I’m sorry to disappoint you all, he was a lot smaller than people said.

Dewitt: Let’s just keep going alright? I don’t need you all making a lot of noise.

Sherwood: 10:26 pm, we’re now deeper into the woods, but no sign of the old bunker and nothing unusual so far. It keeps getting darker, I seriously doubt we will find anything in these conditions.

Pellington (talking to the camera): … getting close to the exact spot where Ace Dewitt saw the creature himself. I suspect it lives in one of the bunkers, which is why it hasn’t been discovered so far. But now that it’s leaving its nest again, we might actually get a decent chance of finding it.

Sherwood: About that, I’ve been meaning to ask you, if this thing is really out here, how do you explain that the sightings just stopped one day and only spiked again recently?

Pellington: I believe it went into some kind of hibernation and is now coming out to feed again.

Sherwood: For ten years? What kind of creature hibernates this long?

Pellington: Cicadas do something similar, don’t they? They stay underground for up to seventeen years before they emerge. This might not even be the original Mothman, but it’s offspring that hatched only recently.

Sherwood: But if the original Mothman died, it’s body would surely have been discovered and analyzed by scientists

Pellington: Not if the government got it first. They put a lot of effort into keeping these sightings quiet, wouldn’t they do everything they could to secure the body? That way no one finds out they’re responsible. Maybe they even captured it alive.

Sherwood: Of course, the government. They must also be the reason why- Look!

Pellington: What?

Sherwood: Did you see that?

Pellington: Where?

Barker: I heard it!

Sherwood: Up there! Did you not hear that? That howl?

Barker: I did, what was that?

Pellington: I don’t know.

Dewitt: It’s here! It’s back!

Pellington: Put that gun down! Sherwood, what did you see?

Sherwood: There was… huge wings! Right up there! Did none of you see that?

Scarberry: I saw it.

Pellington: You did? Is it on camera?

Scarberry: Sorry, it was too fast.

Baker: That deep howl. Did you hear that?

Sherwood: Yes, I think I recorded it. Dewitt, did you hear it? Do owls sound like that here?

Dewitt: I’m not going in there.

Pellington: Which direction did it go?

Sherwood: There.

Pellington: Is that where the bunker is? Dewitt?

Dewitt: Yes.

Sherwood: Should we go on?

Pellington: I… I don’t know.

Baker: Isn’t that the whole reason you came here?

Pellington: Are you sure that’s what you saw?

Sherwood: I don’t know what I saw. But if we want to know, we have to keep going.

Pellington: I suppose you’re right.

Dewitt: I’m not going.

Sherwood: But none of us know our way around here. Without you we’re all lost. And you have your gun. Last time you scared it off alone, remember? This time there’s five of us.

Dewitt: Fine. It’s this way.

(The next several minutes are only the sound of us moving through the woods. No one said a word, but I kept the tape recorder running the entire time.)

Dewitt: There it is.

Sherwood: We’ve reached the bunker. It almost looks like a small hill, but it has two rusted doors on the front. One of them looks like it was broken open. Let’s go in carefully.

(sounds of slow footsteps)

Pellington: Are you getting this?

Scarberry: Uh huh.

Pellington: Do you see anything inside?

Sherwood: It’s pitch black.

Dewitt: Hey, did anyone see, uh…

Sherwood: Oh my god, look at this!

Pellington: What?

Sherwood: On the door.

Pellington: Hey, get a good shot of this!

Scarberry: Are those?

Sherwood: Scratch marks. Were those here before?

Dewitt: No.

Sherwood: Be careful with that gun. What could have done that?

Pellington: They’re huge.

Sherwood: We should check inside, but careful. Dewitt, get your rifle ready.

Pellington: Look.

Sherwood: What?

Pellington: Shhhhhh. Eyes.

(several seconds of silence)

Sherwood (whispering, barely audible): What is that?

Pellington: It’s getting closer, shhhh!

(a repeated clicking sound is heard)

(silence)

(screams, several gunshots, then rapid footsteps)

(recording cuts out briefly)

Sherwood (out of breath): What was that?!

Pellington: Just get in the car!

Dewitt: I warned you!

Sherwood: Wait, where is Barker? Barker! Woodrow!

Barker: I’m here, just go!

(sounds of car doors closing)

(end of recording)

Sherwood wrote down the following later that same night:

Tonight, I saw something I cannot explain. My hands are still shaking. We went out into the woods, Pellington insisted we go at night, because he hoped to actually find Mothman. At first, I was frustrated with this decision, but then I was the first to see it. It flew right over the top of the trees, with its huge wings stretched out, and it let out this deep howling sound. I have never heard anything like that. It should be audible on the tape recording I made, but I’m still too shaken to even check it. We continued in the same direction as it flew and found the bunker Dewitt described. Like he said, one door looked like it was broken open by force and as we got closer, we saw three huge scratch marks in the rusted metal of the broken door. Dewitt said they were new. Then Pellington told me he saw a pair of eyes. I looked up, and there they were. Two red eyes, staring at us from behind the bunker. We all stood there in silence. This thing was slowly crawling towards us and made a strange, insect-like clicking sound. As it reached the top of the bunker, it stood up on its hind legs. Still, I couldn’t see many details in the dark. It was vaguely human shaped, but it appeared to have had a kind of thick exoskeleton. On its head, next to its huge red eyes, were two long antennas, barely visible. Also, I think it had more than two arms, but I’m not sure. We only saw it very briefly, because a few seconds after it stood up, it unfolded two huge wings and flew straight towards us. Dewitt started shooting at it and we all fled back to our cars and drove away. I think Pellington’s cameraman might have gotten a good shot of this thing but I’m not sure. Especially with how dark it was. I guess I will find out tomorrow. For now, I should try to go to bed, but I doubt I’ll get much sleep.

Apparently, this encounter was recorded by Pellington’s cameraman George Scarberry, but from the recollection of the event and later descriptions of the film itself, it’s clear that this is not the famous Pellington film but an entirely separate piece of footage. Trying to find this film didn’t yield any results either.

This next part was crossed out with a pen, but you can still read what it says:

It’s 3:38am, I just got up to get some water, when I looked out the window and saw a large dark figure with red eyes sitting on the streetlight across the street. Almost as soon as I saw it, it flew straight up into the night. My heart is pounding. Maybe this was just an owl, maybe my sleep deprived mind is playing tricks on me, but I could have sworn that I just saw the Mothman staring right into my hotel room. I’m too exhausted right now, I will figure out tomorrow what to do next.

October 12th, 1976
It has taken me a lot of coffee, but I have finally gotten myself awake enough to properly digest the events of last night and think about my next steps. The plan so far is to first go back to the scene of the sighting, this time at day and search for evidence. We will definitely be able to get better pictures of the scratch marks this way and hopefully discover some more evidence that this creature might have left behind. Secondly, I’m going to interview everyone who was there that night to get their sequence of events. Maybe someone spotted something that I have missed. I already asked Pellington about the film, he has sent it to be developed and assured me that his cameraman did his best to film the Mothman we saw. He also agreed, if somewhat reluctantly, to go back to the bunker with me. I also called Barker and Dewitt, Barker agreed to come along as well and actually took a photo of Mothman himself that is also currently in development. Dewitt meanwhile was so terrified of what he saw that he left town entirely to stay with his sister, at least until the sightings quiet down again, he told me. He did however, give me his sister’s phone number, so I call him to tell him “if we get it”. Can’t really blame him for leaving, I suppose, I thought about doing the same, but my curiosity ultimately won. If we can prove what we saw, it would be the scientific discovery of the century. And we already managed to collect some good evidence, especially if the film shot by Scarberry turns out good.

Transcript of Sherwood’s second expedition back to the bunker where Mothman was seen:

Sherwood: 10:34 am, we are back at the spot where we entered the woods last night. With me is John Pellington and his cameraman Scarberry.

Pellington: Is Mr. Dewitt going to come along as well?

Sherwood: Oh, sorry I didn’t tell you yet. Dewitt left Point Pleasant for now, that encounter was too much for him, I suppose. I already told Barker.

Pellington: Too bad, I was wanting to ask him some more questions about last night. Did you see if he actually hit Mothman with his rifle?

Sherwood: No I didn’t, but that’s a good thought, we might be able to find some blood.

Pellington: Should we go? I just hope we’re safe during the day.

Sherwood: Just wait a bit, Barker wanted to come along too, he’s late.

Pellington: Let’s just go, he’ll know where we are. Is the camera ready? Everything we find out there has to be properly documented.

Sherwood: I brought my own camera too.

Scarberry: Camera is ready to go.

Pellington: Good, let’s go.

(sounds of snapping twigs)

Sherwood: What are you gonna do with your documentary? I’m guessing you didn’t expect to get results this quickly.

Pellington: To be honest, I didn’t think I would find him at all. A lot of people already looked and none of them had any luck. Right now, I hope that by broadcasting the evidence we have, I’ll get the attention of the media and especially scientists, so they can study this thing properly. Of course, only if the government doesn’t shut it down first, which they’ll probably do.

Sherwood: We still don’t know if they’re actually behind this. I mean, couldn’t it just be some undiscovered species? There doesn’t need to be some big cover up.

Pellington: I wouldn’t be so sure. What about the article you’re writing? Would be pretty difficult to frame this whole thing as a hoax now, wouldn’t it?

Sherwood: It’s still possible, although I admit, it gets less likely by the minute. As I say, part of being a skeptic is having an open mind and if we get enough evidence, the Skeptical Inquirer might just have to publish its first article arguing in favor of Mothman’s existence.

Pellington: Wait, you still think, what we saw might have been someone in a Halloween costume?

Sherwood: As I said, less likely, but still possible. I suppose I have an open mind about that too.

Scarberry: Well, I saw it up close through the camera. That was no costume.

Sherwood: Let’s just see what we find today.

Sherwood: 10:59 am, we have reached the bunker with the busted door. I can see the scratch marks even more clearly.

Pellington: Get another shot of those.

Scarberry: Do you want me to film the inside too?

Pellington: Wait! What if it’s still in there?

Sherwood: I didn’t think about that.

Pellington: Should… Should we take a look?

Sherwood: I think so. But carefully. If it’s sleeping, we might startle it. Is there anything here we could use as a weapon? In case we need to defend ourselves.

Pellington: Look there in the bush, there’s a metal rod, or something.

Sherwood: Good, grab that.

Pellington: Got it.

Sherwood: Alright, I’m gonna open the door further, you Scarberry, are gonna stand there and film whatever is inside. Pellington, you’re gonna be next to him. Get ready to hit it, if it comes at you.

Pellington: Alright, I’ll try my best.

Sherwood: Good, on three. One. Two. Three.

(loud metal creaking sound)

Sherwood: And?

Pellington: Nothing, it’s empty.

Sherwood: Is there really nothing? No more marks or anything? No signs of a nest?

Pellington: Doesn’t look like it, no, just the four concrete walls.

Sherwood: My god, this thing is creepy. Very well, let’s keep looking. Check the top of the bunker where it was, maybe it dropped some blood. I will keep looking down here.

Pellington: On it.

(several footsteps)

Pellington: Look up here!

Sherwood: Did you find something?

Pellington: I sure did! George, get the camera!

Sherwood: Where is it?

Pellington: Down here.

Sherwood: Are those footprints?

Pellington: They sure look like it.

Sherwood: This is exactly where it stood, let me take some pictures. Definitely not a normal animal or a human. I hardly want to say it, but they look like they were made by a huge insect. Look at these claws!

Pellington: Now that is some solid evidence.

Sherwood: They continue over here through the trees, I’m going to see where they lead.

Pellington: George, are you getting all of this?

Scarberry: I am, boss, I am.

Sherwood: They’re getting a bit weaker now, but it looks like they’re going… I can see them again. There’s a bunch of them over here and, oh my god. I knew it! Pellington, get over here!

Pellington: What is it?

Sherwood: Look at these!

Pellington: What am I looking at? Aren’t those just normal shoe prints?

Sherwood: Exactly! Now look over here.

Pellington: Now those look more interesting. George?

Scarberry: Don’t you see? These shoe prints, they end in the same spot where the Mothman prints begin!

Pellington: What are you saying?

Sherwood: I’m saying, someone hid a costume out here, then when we arrived, they quickly put it on and jumped at us. The whole thing was nothing but a prank.

Pellington: You can’t be serious. These footprints are probably completely unrelated to the Mothman prints.

Sherwood: They look like they were made at the same time, probably by the same person.

Pellington: No, that’s not what it-

Sherwood: Look, these shoe prints come from over here, then they stop and the Mothman prints continue in the same direction! Someone probably had the costume right here in this bush. Maybe a piece of clothing got ripped off, I’m gonna look.

Pellington: I cannot believe that after what we saw last night, you can seriously buy that explanation yourself! I mean-

Scarberry: Can you stop for a moment, I think I heard footsteps.

Sherwood: That’s probably Barker, you can wave him up here, it’ll make for one hell of a news story.

Pellington: I mean, that thing flew right at us. Do you know any costume that can do that?

Scarberry: That’s not Barker.

Sherwood: What? Who is it?

Pellington: Mr. Dewitt?! I thought you left.

Dewitt: I couldn’t. I felt like a coward leaving my town behind. Now I’m ready to face it.

Sherwood: There’s no need, look here. The thing was a fake, at least the one from yesterday.

Dewitt: It was?

Sherwood: Look here. Look at these shoe prints, they go over here, there they stop, which is where the prints left by our Mothman begin. Someone was up here last night and just put on a costume.

Dewitt: I see.

Pellington: Come on, please back me up here. You saw that thing yesterday, that wasn’t a costume. You fired at it. And how do you explain what flew above us, Sherwood? You’re the one who saw that.

Scarberry: He’s right. That couldn’t have been a costume.

Sherwood: Well maybe that was an owl. Or something else. But that doesn’t change the footprints right here.

Dewitt: Well Miss Sherwood, I don’t know what to think. I know what I saw in August, that was real. But this. I mean I saw that. And it didn’t look like a costume, but with these prints. I just don’t know.

Pellington: We still have the film shot by George, remember? That’ll prove what it actually was. There’s a chance it’s been developed already.

Sherwood: You’re right. That will be the ultimate proof.

Dewitt: Don’t you wanna go get that film and see?

Sherwood: Yes, I’m just looking if there’s any piece of the costume here. Doesn’t look like it. Alright, we can go.

(end of recording)

It has only been a few days since this investigation began, and we have already encountered our first hoax. An examination of the site on which we saw the ‘Mothman’, revealed the culprit was in fact a man, but he was no more moth than any of us. They were just wearing a convincing costume. So convincing in fact, that for a brief moment, even I was fooled. But whoever they were, they didn’t do a great job covering their tracks. Right above the bunker we discovered a series of fresh footprints that clearly mark the spot in which someone changed into the Mothman costume they had probably hidden during the day. Now it would be easy for me to write this off as just some local prankster, hoping to have his stunt featured on television, there were enough similar incidents during the first wave after all. But something makes me think that there is more to this. No one except for us knew we would be there that night, as far as I know, the exact location of Dewitt’s sighting was not even publicly known. I suppose it is possible that someone might have been eavesdropping while we were at the park, if that was the case we would have to be more careful in the future not to discuss our filming locations in public. But then there is the fact that Pellington continues to be adamant that our encounter was genuine, despite the evidence that was quite literally in front of his eyes. He hopes that the footage taken by his cameraman George will prove this point and, as far as I can gather, still plans to make it the focal point of his documentary. As of now, the film has yet to be fully developed, but Pellington assured me that he will contact me as soon as it is done, so I can convince myself of the evidence. I also can’t help but note a few strange behaviors from some of the others who were involved. For one, when I called Barker in the morning, he seemed very excited to take another look at the spot. But when we got there, he was nowhere to be found. I already called him and asked him about it as well as the photos he took, but he just gave a quick response about having trouble with his photographs before hanging up. Then there is Dewitt’s sudden change of heart. He seemed genuinely terrified by what he saw, which is also why I doubt that he was involved in the hoax, but I do wonder what it was that made him decide to not just stay in town but return to the very spot that scared him so much. For now, it’s too early to throw around accusations, but I will say that I am curious to see what the film actually shows.

October 13th, 1976
Pellington just called me to tell me that the film is now fully developed, and he wants me to see it. He thinks it might make me change my mind, I doubt it, but we’ll see. But in a town like this, not even a single day goes by without some unusual event and today was no exception. I was going for a walk earlier when I had a somewhat odd encounter, or rather two, with two strange unrelated things happening back to back. I was on my way back to the hotel, when I noticed a large round shadow on the ground, right in front of me. I looked up to see what was casting it, thinking it was some type of cloud, but the sky above was completely blue. I looked back and thought, it probably isn’t a shadow then, but just a dark spot on the road. Still curious, I got a bit closer and saw my own shadow blend perfectly into it. For all I could tell, it looked like a shadow. Something must be casting it. Trying to see what, I slowly stepped into it and then looked directly at the sun. But there was nothing. I must have stood there for several minutes trying to make something out. Then I became aware that I had just been staring directly into sun for several minutes, but still I didn’t feel any urge to look away. The usual burning sensation you feel in your eyes, it simply wasn’t there. The strangeness of it all overwhelmed me and I quickly rushed back in the direction of the hotel, only to bump directly into my second odd encounter. When I arrived, I saw a man with a dark trenchcoat leaning against the wall. I would have just ignored him, but when I walked past him, he suddenly spoke to me: “Good morning, Miss Sherwood.” His voice sounded calm and polite, he had an accent of some kind, but not one I recognized. “Good morning, do I know you?” I said, turning to face him. The more I looked at him, the stranger he appeared. His outfit was a wild mismatch of styles, he had a black fedora with white stripes and a dark blue trenchcoat, underneath which I could see a red and blue flannel shirt and a green tie spotted with orange polka dots. His face was grinning from ear to ear, as if he couldn’t help but remember a really funny joke. “Oh, how rude of me not to introduce myself, the name’s Indrid Cold.” he said as he stretched out his hand, covered in a white glove. Whoever this man was, he must have been quite a skilled ventriloquist, because the entire time he talked his mouth did not move an inch. It made the encounter all the more unsettling. As I slowly grabbed his hand, he continued: “Miss Sherwood, I happen to be very familiar with your work and read about your arrival in the newspaper. I just came by to say, I do hope you find what you’re looking for.” With those words, he turned around and walked off around the corner of the hotel building. Walking in, I asked the man behind the counter if this Indrid character was a guest at the hotel, but he shook his head. To be honest, I’m not sure why I am writing this down. This town is getting to me to the point where I’m getting spooked by a dark spot on the road and a run in with a local cook.

I just got over to Pellington’s place to watch the Mothman footage. The house he rented is closer to the TNT area, so the drive took some 10 minutes. He had Scarberry set up a big projector, darkened the room and we watched it several times. With his excitement I got my hopes up for a moment that the Mothman would be plainly visible. It might be possible to identify the exact costume that was used, track down the store that sold it, etc. But as I feared, the film is no good. Most of it just shows us walking around aimlessly in the forest, interrupted by Pellington explaining his theories. Then at the end, when the encounter took place, a few frames show two bright spots in the dark attached to a vague figure. Way too little to prove that this was or wasn’t a costume. This did not stop Pellington from insisting it wasn’t and that the film somehow made this obvious. Still no sign of Barker, Pellington also tried to call him but got no response.

Just as I was about to leave Dewitt stormed in, he looked excited and scared and said he has something to show us. When we asked him what it was, he didn’t elaborate and just says it’s out in the woods. I am currently sitting in the back of Pellington’s car, driving back to the TNT area to see what it is he’s trying to show us. Naturally, Pellington brought his cameraman along too.

Sherwood: 9:58 pm, we’re currently heading back into the woods, but not to the same place as last time. I believe we’re much closer to the ruins of the actual munitions plant. Dewitt says he found something he wants us to see.

Pellington: I have the new flashlights, maybe we can get a good shot of it this time. Is the camera ready?

Scarberry: Yup.

Pellington: Good. So, what are we looking for?

Dewitt: You’ll see it when we get there.

Pellington: It’s not the Mothman itself, is it? Did you shoot it?

Dewitt: No. Just keep walking.

Pellington: Then what is it? And why is it so urgent?

Sherwood: So urgent that we have to go back at night?

Dewitt: I don’t know if it’s still here tomorrow. Don’t know if it’s still here right now.

Sherwood: Well then, let’s hope that it is.

Pellington: But this is about Mothman right?

Dewitt: Has to be.

Sherwood: Are you going to show us more footprints?

Dewitt: Worse. Much worse.

Pellington: What is that supposed to mean? If it isn’t the creature itself, then what is it?

Dewitt: You’ll see.

Sherwood: Listen, if this is going to turn into another hoax then-

Dewitt: It’s not! It’s…

Sherwood: Then just tell us what it is.

Dewitt: Alright. I… I think I found one of its victims.

(silence)

Pellington: You mean… you found a dead body out here? And you think that…?

Dewitt: I think so. It’s got… you’ll see.

Pellington: It’s got what?!

Sherwood: And you told us instead of calling the police?

Dewitt: I didn’t know what to do. Thought you knew a lot about this Mothman stuff and…

Pellington: Look!

Sherwood: Where?

Pellington: Nothing, probably just a bird. We should leave. Why did you bring us out out here?

Dewitt: But we’re almost-

Sherwood: No, I agree. If that’s what you found, we’re gonna go back immediately and call the police. I can’t believe you didn’t tell us that’s what it was Dewitt!

Scarberry: I saw a phone booth on the way, we can use that.

Pellington: Be quiet! All of you.

Sherwood: Did you hear something?

Pellington: No, but we don’t want it to hear us. Which way is the way back?

Dewitt: I think here.

Pellington: You think?

Sherwood: Yeah, I think so too. Let’s go before it’s completely dark. Look for the eyes.

(tape cuts out)

(resumes, sounds of footsteps stop abruptly)

Sherwood: What was that?

Pellington: What?

Sherwood: Shhhh, listen.

Dewitt: I hear nothing.

Sherwood: I thought there was-

Pellington: Just keep moving.

(footsteps resume, then stop again)

Sherwood: There it was!

Pellington: Stop it.

Sherwood: Be quiet!

(silence)

(a faint clicking noise is heard)

Pellington: That was behind us.

Sherwood: We have to go, now!

Dewitt: There!

Sherwood: What?

Dewitt: I saw it! It’s coming!

Sherwood: Where?

(quick footsteps)

Pellington: Where did he see it?

Sherwood: Dewitt, wait!

Dewitt: It’s after me! Help!

Pellington: Just run!

Sherwood: We can’t just leave him, where is he?

(several gunshots)

Sherwood: There!

Pellington: Look, his gun!

Sherwood: I got it! Dewitt? Dewitt, can you hear me?

Pellington: Look, there.

Sherwood: Dewitt! He’s not moving!

Pellington: Wait! Behind him!

(silence, the whirring noise of Scarberry’s camera is faintly audible)

(clicking noise, this time much louder)

(slow stomping sounds)

Pellington: It… It’s taking him.

Sherwood: No!

(a single gunshot)

(a sound like wings flapping rapidly)

(end of recording)

You’ve probably noticed that the events of the last transcript coincide heavily with how the Pellington film has been described. When first reading it, I had the same suspicion and this was confirmed by Sherwood’s later entries. This tape was in fact made at the exact moment when the Pellington film was taken and is so far the best evidence for its existence. It might also be the closest anyone will ever come to actually watching it. At this point in my research, I was already pretty shaken. Going into this, I thought I would, if anything, be able to uncover some elaborate hoax made to increase ratings for Pellington’s documentary and Sherwood’s observations seemed to support that at first. So having her account suddenly confirm that, what was described on that tape actually happened brought back that same fear I felt watching the Unsolved Mysteries episode all those years ago. But still, I had no clue just how strange things were about to get.

October 14th, 1976
It’s taken a while for me to even be able to write this down. I haven’t gotten an ounce of sleep last night, I couldn’t keep my eyes away from the window. I watched the moths dance back and forth around that streetlight around it all night. Finally the sun started to come up. I thought, if I just start writing, maybe it could help me process what happened last night. Not that I could ever turn this into an article. We saw it again. We went back in the woods because Dewitt said he found something that he wanted us to see. Turns out, that was a dead body, one of Mothman’s victims he called it. I didn’t see that body, as soon as he told us we all decided to turn around. I was mad at him at first, that he didn’t tell us earlier, that that’s what he was trying to show us, or that he didn’t call the police first. But now, I can’t really blame him. I don’t know what to do either. The way he was acting, I can’t even imagine the condition that body was in. And in the end, he was the one who paid the price for it. On the way back, he was attacked. We didn’t see it at first, but we heard it. That awful clicking noise. He ran off in fear, we followed him and soon found his rifle, lying on the ground. I picked it up. Then we saw him. Lying on the ground, unmoving. His jacket was completely torn up. I wanted to run towards him but Pellington stopped me. Then I saw it too. The eyes were right behind him. It emerged from the trees. It’s not a costume. I can hardly force myself to think back to it even now. It stomped slowly towards the helpless Dewitt and with all four arms that it had, picked up his body, all this time keeping its eyes on us. When it unfolded its wings, I awoke from my paralysis. I tried to shoot it with Dewitt’s gun, hoping to hit the wings to try and stop it from taking off but I failed. It took Dewitt with it into the night. The three of us who were left then scrambled to get back to the car, without even looking if it was following us or not. We got in, then drove away as fast as we could. We might have talked during the ride, if we did, I don’t remember what we talked about. I only know that Pellington was the one who held on to Dewitt’s rifle, him living closest to the woods. I’m going to call him soon, I can only hope he is alright. I don’t know what to do. I know I should call the police, but what can I tell them? The Mothman took him? Who is going to believe that? Besides, our fingerprints are all over his rifle. But even if I don’t call them, Dewitt will be reported missing eventually and we are the last people he was seen with. I still have my tape recording, of course. I haven’t listened to it yet, but maybe it picked up some of the sounds it made. It would help our case, but somehow I would still prefer it, if I never had to hear that clicking ever again.

There have been some new developments since my last entry. I first called Pellington, asked if he was alright and if anything else unusual happened last night. Yes, he was alright and no, nothing noteworthy has happened since. The first thing he told me was that Scarberry actually filmed the entire event. When he saw Mothman standing there, he almost subconsciously raised up his camera and just started filming. It obviously hasn’t been developed yet, but he was confident that, with Scarberry skills and the light of our flashlights illuminating the entire area, everything that happened should be clearly visible on the film this time. An enormous amount of relief washed over me. No matter what happens next, we would be able to prove without a doubt that what we saw really took place. Even if it meant having to watch this horrible event play out again. In this moment, I was ironically struck by the memory of how much I scoffed at his conviction of getting footage of the Mothman just a few days ago. Somehow it felt like a whole lifetime has passed since then. I immediately proposed taking this evidence to the police, but he outright refused. I tried to argue with him, saying that we would inevitably fall under suspicion, but he insisted that they already knew what was happening. “If we take this to the authorities, this film will vanish forever and they’ll make sure we never talk to anyone about this ever again. They probably already know we saw it.” These events clearly took their toll on his mind as well. In the end, I agreed to leave the police out of this. I still planned to contact them myself, but not until I had the actual evidence. I had the phone number of Sheriff Johnson, the same woman Dewitt first told about his sighting. Because she was already involved, she might be more open to our case, I reasoned. I also planned to collect all other evidence we gathered, that being the first film Scarberry took, the photos taken by Barker of the same event, as well as the footprints I myself photographed. I shudder to think that what I first thought of as evidence of a hoax, might have been the last moments of another victim. I told Pellington of my plan to bring all our evidence together and he agreed to help, saying we have to prevent ‘them’ from getting it first. Then he brought up something I hadn’t even thought about. Dewitt’s dog Roger. He was probably still locked inside Dewitt’s home. The thought of this lone dog, having his owner taken away by something it could never comprehend, something it had even tried to warn him of made me incredibly sad. So I proposed to take a brief trip and get him, while Pellington would try contacting Barker and send Scarberry to get the film developed. He disagreed with the last point and said he would rather develop it himself. It would take longer, but this way he could make sure no one would confiscate or tamper with it. I had no choice but to agree yet again.

So I went out to Dewitt’s home, or what used to be his home. It was a small, wooden house at the edge of town. Even though it was daytime, it was still unnerving, being this close to the woods. Out here I got the sudden urge to go out and search the woods for Dewitt. After all it was possible for him to still be still alive. Then again, I thought, who knows where that thing took him. It would be near impossible for just the three of us to find him. Better to focus on gathering the evidence quickly, so the police can conduct a proper search later. I tried opening the front door, but of course it was locked. No sign of the dog, so far. Looking for a way to get the door open, I thought of the possibility that he might have left a second key hidden somewhere. I checked the first place I could think of, underneath the doormat and that’s exactly where it was. The door opened with a loud creak. “Roger! Roger, come here!” I yelled, but got no answer. Walking around the house, I noticed it appeared to be oddly empty. A few taxidermied animal heads hung on the walls and there were some framed pictures here and there, but that was it. Most strangely, there wasn’t any food to be found. There was a small refrigerator, but it too was empty. “Roger!” I called again. Still nothing. In the kitchen I found an color photo of Dewitt, posing with a dead deer. He looked younger than I knew him, his hair was shorter and his beard seemed more groomed. I stared at it for several moments, then decided to take it with me. I continued my search for Roger, checking under the bed and opening a large closet to see if he was hiding in there. It was empty as well. Soon, there was nowhere left in this small house for him to be, so I assumed he must have gotten out somehow. How he did this was a mystery, with all the windows and doors locked, but he was definitely not in the house. Maybe Dewitt left him tied up outside and he managed to free himself, I thought. Or he too, was taken.

On the way back I picked up the now developed photos of the footprints. Luckily they had not been confiscated, neither do they seem to have been tampered with. When I arrived back at the hotel, I stumbled across today’s edition of the Point Pleasant Register. On its front page, it ran a Mothman story. Did Dewitt’s disappearance already hit the press? was my first panicked thought. Quickly glancing over the article, it quickly became clear that this was not the case. Still, I picked up the paper and brought it inside with me. Closing the door behind me, I first wanted to take a look at the photos. They turned out good, the first showing the strange footprints on top of the bunker. They were vaguely human-like, but had two long claws at the front. A closer look also showed that each foot seemed to be made of several repeating segments, like the body of a centipede. The next few photos were of this same first set, but then came the ones I have been dreading. The spot with the human footprints next to them. This time, they conjured up a completely different scene in my mind. I pictured a man, running up the hill in terror, only to be suddenly grabbed from behind by its several arms and taken far up into the sky. I was about to put them away, when an odd detail caught my eye. The last set of shoe prints each seemed to have two slight extensions at the front. I looked closer, grabbing a magnifying glass. This wasn’t present at any of the other prints. I thought they might be twigs that had been pressed to the ground, but they were too symmetrical and looked identical on both feet. I barely dared to think it, but they were at the exact spot where the two claws had been on the Mothman prints. I slowly moved the glass over to them. What I saw made me gasp audibly. The pattern on the first Mothman print wasn’t the same row of segments, it was made of more irregular shapes. I cannot begin to explain how this could be possible, but eerily, they seemed to resemble the pattern found in the other shoe prints. They weren’t identical, but far too similar to be a coincidence. On the next Mothman print, the claws were longer and the pattern almost appeared warped compared to the first, changed into a more orderly pattern. The next print showed the regular segmentation, as did the one following it. I looked back and fourth at the prints, trying to find some explanation for what I was seeing, when I was startled by a loud noise. The phone rang. I quickly picked it up and answered: “Hello?” At the other end was Pellington, he seemed in a state of near panic as he yelled into his phone: “Sherwood is that you?” “Yes…” I answered slowly. “What happened?” “I knew it!” he continued, trying to catch his breath. “I knew they are trying to get us! You need to hide the evidence! Check your room, they’re probably-” “Slow down, slow down, what the hell is going on?” I interrupted, before he could get even more panicked. “Alright, so I called Barker today, about the photographs like you told me, and they took them. They’re gone. I knew they would take them!” He was speaking so fast I could barely understand him. “Calm down a little, please, who took them?” He did not calm down. “They! The government did! The men in black!” “What?” is all I got out. “That’s what he told me! They came to his house and silenced him. They threatened him not to talk about it and they took all the photographs! Listen you need to check your room for bugs, they could be listening right now. I already checked here and found nothing. But if they knew about him, they’re gonna be here soon and-” I couldn’t think with all his ramblings, so I tried to somewhat change the subject. “What about the film? Is it done?” It worked a little. “Not yet, but George is working on it, I’ll let you know. Listen they might come for you next, find somewhere to put the photos and-” I tried to cut him off again. “Alright, I’ll hide them here somewhere, you just focus on getting the film done.” “Sure, sure.” is all he responded before hanging up again. I needed a moment to even filter out the relevant parts of what he just said. It was Barker who told him that these ‘men in black’ took his photos and threatened him. I was just about to call him, to get the story from him personally, when I happened to glance back at the Mothman article I just brought in. The headline read “I Knew Too Much About Mothman” I took a closer look and sure enough, the phone call just became unnecessary. The article was written by Woodrow Barker.

This article is already publicly available and often cited as a main source for the Pellington film (even though the film discussed here isn’t the actual famous Pellington film). It’s also one of the reasons the entire story is often discounted as a hoax. I’m including it here for the sake of completion, but if you’re way too much into this stuff like me and have already read it, feel free to skip this part. Sherwood’s account continues in the next segment:

I Knew Too Much About Mothman

A few days ago, I happen to have had the opportunity to accompany paranormal investigator John Pellington during the filming of his upcoming documentary about the strange events that continue plague our small town. On that day he planned an expedition into the TNT area, using eyewitness accounts to predict where Mothman would appear and, with the help of a special camera, tried to capture the beast on film. His plan worked. After a little bit of searching, we encountered the Mothman on top of the abandoned bunker in which he estimated its nest to be. I will not reveal the exact location of this bunker, because otherwise some might be inclined to visit this site personally and put themselves at risk. When it spotted us entering its territory, it became agitated and charged at us, at which point we backed off to not disturb it any further. But not before Pellington managed to get a good shot of the thing with his camera. After this sighting, even Emily Sherwood, the writer for Skeptical Inquirer, was now convinced that he was real. I too was able to snap a few pictures of the Mothman we saw and would have included them in this article if it were not for the events that followed. The next day, I was in the process of developing my pictures when I heard a knock at the door. Outside were two men, wearing black suits, black hats and sunglasses. They never identified themselves, instead they immediately stormed into my home, pushing me aside and quickly shutting the door behind them. One immediately cut off my phone line, the other started questioning me, about what I saw, where it was and who else was there. When I tried to ask them who they were, I was shut down immediately. I was reluctant to tell him the names of the others, which is when he started to threaten me. “Listen, if you don’t comply, we have our ways of making you disappear. Just like that.” He snapped his fingers. “No one will find your body and any official record anyone will be able to turn up, will simply state that what happened to you was a tragic accident. Pictures of your crashed car. An entire police investigation. A detailed fabricated autopsy report. Not a problem.” is what he said. I still remember his exact words that made me comply. When I told them about the pictures I took, the other man quickly went towards the darkroom and slammed the door open, then collected all the now ruined negatives as well as the camera that I took the pictures with. They also got me to tell them about the film Pellington took. Then they left as quickly as they arrived, with one final warning about what would happen to me if anything I told them would turn out to have been a lie, or if I omitted anything, and told me not to discuss my encounter or their presence here with anyone. It is obvious to me that these two were working for some government agency. The only question that remains is, what is the Mothman really and why does the government work so hard to try and conceal its existence?

The article recounts exactly what Pellington told me. Barker claimed to have been visited by two men dressed in black suits, implied to have been working for the government who confiscated his photographs and threatened to make him disappear if he told anyone what he saw. At face value, it seemed like Barker had taken our initial encounter as a jumping off point, to spin some wild tale to sell to the newspaper. But after everything that happened, could I really dismiss this account just out of hand? I will say that, if this really happened to him, those threats didn’t seem to have affected him too much, given that he just published every bit of information the men told him to keep quiet about. He didn’t strike me as the kind of person who would risk his own life to expose the truth, but perhaps I was wrong. Maybe that’s exactly what he was doing. Still, I found it difficult to accept this account at face value, the tone of the article didn’t help with that either, so I decided to call him after all. He must have gotten his phone fixed by now, given that Pellington already called him. I dialed in his number and he picked up almost instantly. “Yeah, hello?” “Hello, this is Sherwood, I just read your article and I have a few questions I wanted to ask you.” “I thought you might.” he responded calmly. “But I can assure you that I wrote everything exactly the way it happened. You’re even one of the people who can back me up, both you and Pellington know that my phone wasn’t working. Took me quite a while to get it repaired.”
“I suppose that’s true.” I admitted. “But that’s pretty brave of you, to risk your life writing that article. I read the way they threatened you.” “Well, I wouldn’t call it brave, it’s more of an old trick.” I could hear his grin over the phone. “You see, after you go public with something like this, they can’t actually do anything to you. If they make me disappear now, they’re just telling everyone that what I said was the truth. I have gotten a few threatening phone calls since, but I know they won’t go further than that.” “That’s quite the assumption to make, isn’t it?” I said, perhaps a bit more skeptical than intended, because his next response was: “Miss Sherwood, if you still don’t believe me, I recorded one of the phone calls I got from them, I can play it for you right now.” “That’s not necessary.” I said, trying to reverse my skepticism a little. “Well, maybe later, I would like to hear that. Has Pellington told you about what happened the past few days?” “Nope.” was his short answer. “After I told him what happened to me, he just hung up.” So I filled him in on the details, the footprints we found, Dewitt’s return, his fate and finally the footage Pellington was still developing. “I’m kind of worried about Pellington, ever since last night he’s gotten increasingly paranoid and your story didn’t really help with that.” I added on. Barker just ignored my final comment: “I sure missed a lot. The pictures of the footprints, do you still have those?” “Yes, why?” “Just asking, I think the men in black might try to take them next.” he explained quickly. I disagreed: “I think they’d be more interested in the film if anything. If it turns out good, it should show the creature quite clearly.” “You’re probably right.” he conceded. “Do call me when it’s done, I would love to see that myself.” I agreed, then I hung up. What a character, I thought to myself. Still had no clue whether he was telling the truth or not. With this settled, I could finally turn my attention back to the footprints. I studied the pictures for several more minutes trying to make some sense out of them. At the same time I went over my conversation with Barker in my head again. His casual, joking attitude seemed strange, considering everything that happened. Then I suppose, he hadn’t seen how it took Dewitt yet. His focus on the footprints was similarly odd to me. I didn’t tell him what I discovered in the photographs just a few moments before and even if I had, the actual footage should still be much more interesting than this. Realizing I wasn’t going to get any answers by continuing to look at them, I decided to put them away. Just to be sure, I put them inside my room’s closet and locked it, then I hid the key. I am still planning on listening to the recording Barker made, if it doesn’t get stolen first like his photographs, but it’ll have to wait. Pellington’s film has the highest priority right now and if nothing goes wrong it should be done by tomorrow. Then we can prove once and for all that, as incredible as it sounds, the Mothman truly does exist.

October 15th, 1976

I’ve been waiting the entire day for Pellington’s call. I tried to brush off Barker’s entire ‘men in black’ story, but as I waited in my silent room, worries began to fill my head. What if someone did get to him? What if they did take the film? If Barker told the truth, the first thing they do is disconnect the phone, so he would have no way of reaching me. Or maybe the Mothman took him as well. It feels almost silly to still use this name for that thing. It sounds more like a cartoon, or the villain of some monster movie, played by a guy in a rubber suit. Nothing like the horror we saw, the real thing that we know stalks these woods each night. I was just about to call him myself, when the phone finally rang. It was him. The film was done and I should come over as quickly as possible to see it. He saw no further signs of Mothman or any men in black. Remembering my promise to Barker, I quickly called him up and relayed the news to him, he was on his way. I was hesitant at first, whether or not to involve him, but I thought having one more additional witness to this film might be a good idea, just in case something does happen to it. Besides, if he was lying, seeing the events of that night for himself should make him realize the seriousness of the situation. I was about to leave, when I hesitated for a moment. This is the point where I had planned to involve Sheriff Johnson, but I could hardly predict how Pellington would react to that. Especially after the men in black episode. Then again, she would be another witness. The police would have to become involved in this sooner or later anyway. I was already reaching towards the phone, when I stopped. I would watch the film for myself first, I decided. To involve her before I even knew what it showed would be a foolish decision. If it turned out good, I could always call her from Pellington’s place. Although I would have to convince Pellington first and I doubted that would be possible. Still better than bringing her along unannounced, more than likely Pellington would have refused to show the film at all, I told myself.
On the way, while I was driving through that brief stretch of forest, I saw the events of that night flash before my eyes. Would I be ready to see all of that again? That horrible image of Dewitt, completely motionless while that monster took it. I thought back to our first encounter. It could easily have taken any of us, the fact that we all escaped might have been pure luck. How careless we were to actually return to that spot the next day. Then it hit me. The footprints! I forgot the photographs of the footprints! I wished I hadn’t locked them in my closet. I briefly considered turning around, but by then, I had already arrived.
As Pellington let me inside, locking the door behind me several times, I saw the projector already set up in a dark room. Scarberry was inserting the role of film into it, while Barker had already made himself comfortable. He invited me to sit down, as if we were about to watch some fictional movie purely for entertainment. The room darkened as Pellington closed the door behind us. Then Scarberry flipped a switch and a quiet whir filled the room. The screen in front of us lit up. My heart began to race. Like the other film, it started with us walking through the woods. For a brief moment I saw myself talking into my tape recorder. Then there was a clear illuminated shot of Dewitt. He just finished speaking a sentence, then he just stood there without moving his mouth for several seconds. I believe this was the moment he revealed to us what he really found. Seeing him again, I wanted to warn him somehow, of what was coming, but of course, that was impossible. I had no choice but to watch as events unfolded yet again. The next shot was one of Pellington, looking up and around nervously. Then, a brief shot of Dewitt’s rifle on the ground, with me picking it up. I dreaded what was about to come, yet I knew the importance that it held. This next piece of film would decide whether we would be believed or not, whether the knowledge of Dewitt’s true fate would be revealed to the world or confined to just our small group. The film cut to a sudden shot of Dewitt’s body. There was no build up, no slow reveal, just this shot. His face was mercifully covered by his large hat. Pellington and I were seen approaching from the right. In the center of the screen, two bright dots appeared. The film only showed them as a light grey, but I could still feel their piercing red glare. Then it emerged. All our flashlights converged on it and the film showed every minute detail of this creature. It was even more horrifying than I remembered. Its entire body seemed to be in a constant state of movement. The head was twitching in different directions, the mouthparts were rubbing against each other, the long antennae were flailing around wildly, while it took slow deliberate steps towards Dewitt, its smaller arms already reaching in his direction. They took hold of his arms, as it reached down, letting its antennae run all over his body. Its larger arms then grabbed Dewitt’s torso and lifted him off the ground, at the same moment it unfolded its enormous wings from behind its back. They were actually four wings, two large ones at the top, darker with complex patterning and two smaller ones further down, with a light color and two vertical stripes. At this point I, the me in the film, raised up Dewitt’s rifle and fired in its direction. For a moment it stood still, then its wings began to flap and it vanished upwards almost instantly. A few more seconds showed the now empty clearing, then it cut to black. Silence hung over the dark room. No one dared to say a word. I was startled by the sudden sound of Pellington rising up to turn the light back on. After my eyes adjusted to the brightness I looked around at the others. Everyone seemed to be in a state of shock, even Barker. He looked back at me with a sort of blank expression. I was the first to break the silence: “What now?” No one had an answer. They all looked at me, waiting for my suggestion. “Well, we have to show this to somebody.” I continued. The others agreed, but didn’t give any ideas themselves. I decided to get straight to the point: “Dewitt gave me the phone number of the first person he contacted after his first sighting way back in September. She already knows that-” “Absolutely not!” Pellington cut me off before I could even make my point. He turned to the rest. “She wants to get the sheriff involved! You know what will happen if we tell the police. You tell her Barker.” But I continued before Barker had a chance to speak up: “They’re gonna start looking for Dewitt eventually, I’m surprised they haven’t done it already. We’re gonna look very suspicious, especially if we don’t show them our footage.” “And if they know what we found, they’ll make sure we’re framed for his murder, so we’ll never tell anyone. Or they’ll just get rid of us. A fake accident with fake autopsy reports, no problem.” I was starting to get desperate. “Do you have a better plan then? And didn’t Barker already tell them we had more footage?” Barker nodded reluctantly. “And they haven’t taken anything yet! Remember, Sheriff Johnson didn’t try to shut Dewitt up, she told his story to the newspaper. I don’t think she’s part of any cover up.” Pellington began to walk up to me. “If we call her, and that’s a very big if, it would be under the condition that she does not take the film with her. We would show it once, that’s it. And we would keep a close eye on her at all times. She would have to leave her firearms behind.” “I’m sure that can be arranged.” I nodded. Now Barker voiced his skepticism: “I don’t know if we can trust her. How do we know she won’t bring these two men in black with her?” Still sticking to that story, I thought. “We can see that through the window and I would tell her to come alone.” was my answer. But I could see they were still not convinced. “I’m open to other suggestions. Anyone know someone else we could call? How about the receptionist at my hotel? Or that local cook, Indrid Cold?” “Who are you talking about?” asked Barker. Finally, Pellington gave in: “Alright, call her. We’ll see how that turns out.” I picked up the phone and nervously dialed in the number Dewitt gave me, unsure if she would even believe me. After waiting for a few seconds, she finally picked up. I took a deep breath and briefly told her our story. As expected, she asked if this was a prank, I did my best to reassure her that it wasn’t. For some reason, she ended up believing me and agreed to come over. This is when I told her about Pellington’s demands. She sounded somewhat concerned and asked me why this was necessary and I simply told her that some strange things have happened and we’re not sure who we can trust. I chose not to mention the men in black story, although thinking back to it now, she probably already read about it in the newspaper. Still, she agreed, even if she still didn’t seem to take it all that seriously. About 20 minutes later, she arrived, in full uniform, but alone and without any weapons. I opened the door for her. “You know, if this is a joke then…” she began to say, but stopped as soon as she saw me. I can only imagine what my face must have looked like, after several nights without proper sleep and the horror of what we saw once again fresh in my mind. She just followed me quietly into the darkened room, Pellington staring at her intensely as Scarberry started the projector again. Johnson watched intensely as the scene of us in the woods started to play out again. When we reached the scene in which Dewitt was visible, it struck me just how much he resembled the photo I took from his cabin. When I first saw it, for some reason I perceived it as younger than the Dewitt I knew, when in reality, they looked virtually identical. Then came the Mothman scene. I thought about looking away, but as it played out, I could not keep my eyes off it. I was not the only one. As it emerged, Johnson was visibly startled and while it crawled towards Dewitt, she herself slowly walked towards the screen. The moment the film ended, Pellington turned the lights back on, still not taking his eyes off her. Johnson just looked back and forth between us with a certain helplessness on her face, while struggling for words. “So you… I mean, I knew he saw, but… And that thing, it was, it is…”. Finally she got herself calm enough to produce a proper sentence: “I have to take this with me.” “I knew it!” Pellington yelled, planting himself in front of the projector. “I knew you would try to pull something!” “No you don’t understand!” She was still panicking. “They’re not going to believe me. I worked hard for this position, if I start talking about Mothman with no proff, everyone will think I’m crazy. You know what would happen to me?” “Who? Who are they? Who are you afraid of?” I could feel Pellington’s paranoia rise again, so I decided to take over. “I’m sorry, but those were the conditions you agreed to.” She looked at me, almost desperate: “Then I can’t help you. But I’ll have to file a missing person report. Look, I don’t know why you’re so paranoid but at some point during the investigation you’re gonna have to hand it over.” “I doubt there will be an investigation.” Barker spoke up. “Two government agents already took the evidence I had. That film will likely meet a similar fate.” Johnson was surprised: “What? They can’t do that!” “They sure did.” Barker replied calmly. “Then they must have had a good reason, listen I don’t want to get in trouble with the higher ups. I’ll file a report, but if someone doesn’t want me to investigate this, I won’t.” Those were her last words before she left the room. Pellington gave me a judgmental look. I had to admit, this went far more poorly than I had expected. I needed some time to think and given that I wanted to retrieve my photographs anyway, I decided to return to my hotel for now. And here I am, writing this down, trying to digest everything that happened and think of a new plan.

There is no one I can tell what happened this evening. No one that wouldn’t think I have gone insane. Maybe I have. Pellington was right to be paranoid, yet for the wrong reasons. There is no one I can trust, maybe not ever again. Not after this. It started in my hotel room, after I made my last entry, I lied down on my bed, trying to think of some way out of this situation. My mind was swarmed by questions of all kind. Was there some way I could convince Pellington to give the film over to the police? But what if Barker was telling the truth? What would the sheriff do now? But somehow, in the midst of all of this, my mind kept coming back to that image of Dewitt I saw in the film. I took another look at the photograph of him. It looked identical. But that didn’t seem right. I could have sworn I remembered him differently. Older, somehow, even though the man in the picture already looked old. I decided to put it away. The situation was maddening enough, I didn’t need to drive myself insane over nothing. Then I remembered, the newspaper that first printed his account included a photo of him. I should still have it here somewhere. After a few moments of searching, I found it. I remember thinking as I searched through the pages that this should put a stop to whatever trick my mind was playing on me. But it didn’t. Right in the center of the page was Dewitt, staring at me, exactly how I remembered him. His hair was longer, his beard disheveled, his face had a few more wrinkles. I grasped for the framed picture on the table and laid the two side by side. On the right was the Dewitt I knew, the one I interviewed. On the left was a younger Dewitt, one that I never met, yet this was the one that was in the forest with us. The one carried off by Mothman. I thought back to his home. How empty it was, most of his belongings, his food and his dog absent. I thought back to his sudden return after he was so adamant about leaving. Then, my mind wandered to the footprints. How the shoe sole morphed and warped itself into the insect-like print. A strange hunch began to form in my mind, one that connected all these things together. I couldn’t make sense of it yet, still I acted on it. Out of my closet, I retrieved a small piece of paper on which I had written down the phone number Dewitt gave me as he announced his departure. With shaking fingers, I dialed it into the phone. After what felt like an eternity, someone picked up. “Mary Dewitt, who am I speaking to?” “Hello, can I, um…” I had to pause for a moment, taking a deep breath before I could let out the next part. “Can I speak to Ace Dewitt, please?” The other end was silent. I wasn’t sure what to expect, or what I hoped to expect. There was a distant sound. I thought, it sounded like a dog yelping. Then a voice. “Make it quick, Roger needs his meal.” It was his voice. I stood there, frozen, with the phone still at my ear. I couldn’t press a word out of my lips. “Hey, who is this?” he asked again. In a gut reaction, maybe just to do something, I reached for my tape recorder and put the phone on speaker.

Dewitt: You think this is funny, huh? You got one more chance to say something before I hang up.

Sherwood: Dewitt? It’s me, Emily uh… Sherwood.

Dewitt: Sherwood! You finally got that thing? That’s a relief.

Sherwood: Dewitt, we… we saw you die.

Dewitt: What?

Sherwood: It took you, what happened? How…? You’re alive!

Dewitt: You’re not making any sense.

Sherwood: …

Dewitt: Hello?

Sherwood: Are you at your sister’s place?

Dewitt: Yeah, does that mean I can come back?

Sherwood: No! uh… I mean. How long?

Dewitt: Huh?

Sherwood: How long have you been there?

Dewitt: Not long, just got here three days ago.

Sherwood: On the 12th ?

Dewitt: Listen I know, leaving wasn’t my proudest moment, you don’t have to…

Sherwood: You weren’t here the next day? You didn’t come back?

Dewitt: What’s that supposed to mean?

Sherwood: Just tell me! On the 13th, on Wednesday, were you in Point Pleasant or not?

Dewitt: I wasn’t, I told you the day I left, remember?

Sherwood: And you stayed there? You didn’t come back here?

Dewitt: I did what I had to, alright! I knew that thing was out for me! Maybe you should ask why you want to stay so bad.

Just like that he hung up. My mind could barely process what just happened. If he left that day, then who…? The image of the young Dewitt in the film flashed across my mind. It drew my eyes onto the table, where his framed picture stared back at me. Something felt wrong about all of this, incredibly wrong. The silence of my room became unbearable. As quick as my fingers allowed, I dialed in Pellington’s number, my tape recorder still running.

Pellington: Sherwood, I told you, telling the sheriff was a bad idea.

Sherwood: Listen to me! Dewitt is alive!

Pellington: He is? Thank god! Is he alright? How did he escape?

Sherwood: You don’t understand, he’s with his sister. I just called him. He left Point Pleasant on Tuesday!

Pellington: What, no he didn’t.

Sherwood: He told me himself, I recorded the call.

Pellington: Are you sure? You didn’t call someone else?

Sherwood: It’s him, you can listen for yourself.

Pellington: And he said he left, when? On Tuesday? Right, I remember you told me, he wanted to leave. Did something happen with his memory?

Sherwood: He never came back. I have to show you some stuff, it might make it make more sense. I think.

Pellington: Make sense how? I don’t know what he told you, but he… he was here. I don’t even… We all saw him, when it took him, I mean he’s on the film, for Christ’s sake. How can you possibly doubt that?

Sherwood: That wasn’t him. I know this sounds crazy, but there’s this picture of him that… I can’t explain it over the phone, you have to see it. I’m coming over.

Pellington: Are you alright? You don’t sound-

I hung up. I knew, the longer I tried to explain myself, the crazier I would sound. He needed to see it for himself. Grabbing both the framed picture and the newspaper with the recent, older picture, I rushed out the hotel. It was already getting dark and a light rain was setting in. I was almost at my car, when I remembered: The footprints! I wouldn’t forget them this time! I rushed back in, sprinting up the stairs while catching an odd look from the receptionist, slammed open the door, grabbed the pictures, then slammed it shut again. Standing at the closed door, I took a moment to calm myself down, breathing slowly. This new situation had completely overwhelmed me, if I kept rushing in a panic like this, I might make more needless mistakes along the way. I descended the stairs again, more slowly this time, went out the building, but before I could get to my car, I was interrupted once again. “Miss Sherwood!” a voice called out behind me. I jumped around, then sighed in relief, as I saw Pellington approaching me. “My god, you scared me.” I let out. He apologized. “Sorry, I just thought it would be faster if I drove over to you. Now what is it you wanted to show me? What’s going on with Dewitt?” I tried to collect my thoughts. “Alright so, uh… at his house I found this picture that shows him when he was younger.” I got the picture out of my bag and handed it to him. He studied it with curiosity. Then I got out the newspaper. “Here look at this, it’s in black and white but he’s clearly older in this one. Maybe you’ll remember it, but in the film he…” A sudden realization struck my mind and made my whole body freeze. He couldn’t have gotten here this fast. It took me more than 10 minutes to drive over to Pellington’s place and that was the quickest route. My eyes slowly wandered up to his face, still looking down at the photograph. It did look like him. “Is something wrong?” he asked. I hesitated for a moment, then said: “I just forgot something in my room. Wait here, it’s not gonna make sense without it.” I grabbed the picture from him, went back inside and up the stairs. His footsteps followed behind me. I picked up the pace, reached my door and fumbled at the lock as he walked up behind me. “You can just show me here, right?” “It’ll just be a moment.” I said, barely keeping my voice together. Finally, the door opened, I rushed inside and closed it as quickly as I could, locking it twice. He knocked from the outside: “You seem nervous, is everything alright?” I didn’t answer, just staring at the door. Was I overreacting? I asked myself. Maybe I just took longer to get the footprints than I thought. He could have used a quicker route I didn’t know about. I glanced over at the telephone. There was one way to find out for sure. I dialed in Pellington’s number and waited. Someone picked up. “Pellington, is that you?” I asked. “Yeah, I thought you were on your way. Did something happen?” I was right. It wasn’t him. “Pellington.” I almost whispered into the phone. “There is someone at my door right now. He looks just like you.” “What?” is all he got out. “Here, listen for yourself.” I held the phone up to the door, but of course, there was nothing. “I don’t hear anything.” the real Pellington said. I picked up the phone again. “I will try to make my way over. Listen to me, don’t open the door for anyone, even it it’s Barker or Scarberry or the sheriff. Or even me. You’ll know the real me because, uh… I will have on me, a framed picture of Dewitt, the first article of his sighting and my pictures of the footprints at the bunker. I’m going to show you these three things at the door. If I don’t have these on me, do not let me in!” Those were the last words I said to him over the phone, hoping that it wouldn’t be able to copy these things as well. It wasn’t the best plan, but I needed something I could use to identify myself and it was the only thing I could think of. By now, the light rain had turned into a full blown storm and an army of raindrops came beating against the window. Crouching down, I gently pressed my ear against the door, trying my best to listen for any sounds. I hardly dared to breathe. I heard nothing. I slowly unlocked it, aware of every click made by the key. It opened with a slow creak and I peered outside. Nobody there. Now I dared to step outside and look around. Still nobody. I closed the door behind me as quietly as possible and made my way down the stairs, constantly looking over my shoulder. As I passed what looked like the receptionist, he made some comment, but I just ignored him, walking faster into the pouring rain and finally reaching my car. Starting the engine, I quickly went over the newspaper and photos. They were untouched by the rain. In this weather, the streets of Point Pleasant were nearly empty, which made the few pedestrians that were still outside stand out even more. Most of them were running to their homes, but, as lightning flashed I saw one just standing there, staring at my car as I drove by. I pressed down on the gas pedal, probably breaking the speed limit. I didn’t care. Reaching the forest area, the road ahead of me became harder and harder to see. The headlights illuminated the thick curtain of rain in front of me, the windshield wipers trying their hardest to clear my sight. But the only times the road became clearly visible was during the brief flashes of lightning. A curve in the road made my car slide dangerously on the wet ground. But I couldn’t get myself to slow down. I knew I had to be there soon. Then, during a frantic glance at the rear view mirror, I spotted something that made my blood turn to ice. Two large red eyes, shining down from the sky like spotlights, directly onto my car. The outline of two enormous wings was revealed momentarily as glided out of view. I turned around to face the rear window. It was gone. As I looked now almost hysterically from window to window, from mirror to mirror, that terrible howl, that I heard during my very first encounter echoed from above, drowning out the distant thunder. In that moment I saw it again, through the windshield. Like an enormous vulture it circled high above the car, its dark shadowy wings silhouetted against the lightning ridden clouds. Suddenly, the car radio sprung on. All by itself. It played a few notes, then turned off again. If this sound was enough to thoroughly startle me, the next one almost made my heart stop. It was the sound of the motor beginning to stall. “No, no no!” I yelled, slamming onto the car board. A few moments later, the car came to a slow, inevitable stop. At the same time, the headlights blinked out. I turned the key wildly, begging for it to start again, but all it did was produce the same stuttering sound. I looked back up, expecting to see the Mothman again, diving straight at me. But there was no sign of it. The whole sky was completely void of any glowing red eyes. Staring back ahead, I wondered how far it would be until I reached Pellington’s home. The mere idea of going out on foot was horrifying, but what choice did I have? That is when lighting lit up the road once again, creating a brief but long shadow of my car. I froze. There was something else. It couldn’t be, it was just a flash, it must have been a puddle. I started at the road. It flashed again and there it was. Directly ahead of me was another shadow. A large elliptical shadow cast onto the road. And it looked like whatever was casting it should have been hovering a few feet off the ground. But no matter how much I strained my eyes, I couldn’t see a thing. Then, another flash. There was something there. I rubbed my eyes, this must have been some trick of the light, an illusion created by the rain running down the windshield. What I thought I saw, I’m not even sure how to describe it, were raindrops hitting something in the air and running down it’s side. But there was nothing there. The closest I can compare it to is, if you would create some huge structure made entirely out of glass, then hang it into the air for the raindrops to fall on. But even glass would have been visible. Lightning flashed again, this time directly ahead. It blinded me and caused me to cover my eyes. When I opened them again, the light was still there. My first thought was, that it was the headlights of an incoming car. I opened my door and started waving, hoping that this driver would see me and pick me up. But the light didn’t move. Not at first. It just stood still, an eerie blue glow a few feet above the road. Then it grew. I watched in awe, with rain whipping at my face as it expanded sideways, slowly forming into a solid structure. A metallic thing with a cylindrical shape, that became thinner the more it reached its two outward ends. With one last flash, two round disks appeared at its tips. It hung silently in the air, the rain dripping down its now visible metal surface. The blue light still glowed in its center. Then it began to move. Barely perceptible at first, it slowly hovered towards the car. This broke my trance and I rushed back inside, slamming the door shut and locking it. My eyes were still fixated on this huge machine. It stopped moving again. Then it descended downward, halting again only a feet or so above the ground, its blue light being reflected all across the watery road. For several moments, it did nothing. I kept staring at it, waiting for it to make its next move. A new light appeared. It was a thin yellow-green beam, just below the blue light. I watched it grow in size, expanding downwards until it became a large rectangle, like a doorway. Below it appeared a small stairway down towards the ground. It seemed to grow almost organically, the steps forming one by one out of the metal hull of the craft. Then, within the yellow light, a figure appeared. It looked like a man. I watched him calmly descend the stairs, each slow step producing a loud metallic sound. Clank. Clank. Clank. He was wearing a trenchcoat with a dark blue color, both his hands in his pockets and a black hat with thin clear white stripes. He raised up his head and with one more flash of lightning I saw his face clearly. It was that strange man, Indrid Cold. He was grinning from ear to ear. It wasn’t an unnaturally wide grin, he simply looked like he just had the happiest day of his life. Unbothered by the rain, he casually strolled up to the car, taking in a good look of the scenery around him as he did so. I just stared at him, overwhelmed by the strangeness of his mere presence as he reached the window and his ever smiling face peered inside. “Good evening Miss Sherwood. It is nice to see you again.” He talked as if catching up with an old friend, once again without breaking his smile. Despite the rain and the closed car door, I could hear his voice clearly, as if he was sitting right next to me. He took another look around, before turning back to me. “Such beautiful weather, isn’t it? It’s rare to get nice days like these around here. Wouldn’t you like to step outside?” He made an inviting gesture. I didn’t respond, instead checking once again if my doors were properly locked. They were. Upon seeing my reaction, his grin seemed to widen just a little. He shrugged and just said “Your loss.” After a few moments of silence, he added. “You know, it is quite rude not to respond when you’re being spoken to. Just as rude as slamming the door into someone’s face. But no hard feelings.” He seemed as if he was about to turn around, but then looked back, straight at my bag. “Although, I am still curious, what was it exactly you wanted to show me? I understand you didn’t have the time earlier, but that shouldn’t be an issue now.” My mind was racing, trying to think of some way to get out of this situation. I could just run, grab the bag, open the other door and flee down the street. But I knew that wouldn’t work. Even if I could outrun him, he still had his craft. The only other thought I had, was to respond. That if I played along I could somehow get him to leave. “I left them at home.” I lied, my voice trembling. “What was that?” he asked. “I don’t have the photos with me.” I repeated. He just put his hand to his ear and said. “Excuse me, I can’t quite understand you, if you could perhaps roll down the window?” It was no use. I couldn’t win by playing his game. So I went back to saying nothing. He kept staring at me, waiting for me to do something. A few more seconds passed, before he finally took a step back and said “Very well Miss Sherwood, I can see when I’m not wanted.” He shrugged again, then turned back and with that same casual stroll, walked into the direction of his craft. A quick flash blinded me and as my eyes adjusted back to the darkness, I saw no sign of him, or his ship. I must have stared into the darkness for several minutes. Did I just dream that? Am I losing it? Maybe this guy, this Indrid Cold, was just a normal resident. Maybe the ‘ship’ I saw were just the headlights of his car. My mind struggled desperately to come up with some rational explanation. Still I waited out one more lightning flash to see if there were any other shadows on the road. There were none. Then I tried to start the car again. But the result was the same, the stuttering sound persisted as the motor refused to obey. I contemplated walking the last stretch, when I saw the light approach again. It was distant, but steadily drawing closer. Of course he wouldn’t just leave. I nervously watched it close in, trying to brace myself for whatever would come next. It was low to the ground and at the left side of the road. Then it stopped. A figure emerged from behind it, waving in my direction. The next flash of light made my heart sink in relief. There was no sign of any huge craft behind this light. I slowly opened my door to hear a familiar voice call to me through the rain. “Sherwood! Sherwood, is that you?” It was Pellington. I got out of the car and yelled: “I’m here! My car broke down!” “Get in quick! This storm is awful.” He pointed to the headlights of his car. I rushed towards him, but he suddenly stopped. “Wait!” “What is it?” I asked. “Show me the pictures first.” “What?” I yelled, confused. “You told me not to trust you unless you have the evidence with you. I need to know that it’s really you.” I hesitated. I remember what I told him, now thoroughly regretting this plan. By now, my coat was soaked thoroughly with cold rain water. I had to decide quickly “Fine, here the tape.” I handed it to him. “Dewitt’s picture, the newspaper and what else? The footprints, here.” He grabbed all three items out of my hand. “Now go, before they all get soaked.” But Pellington didn’t respond. I looked up to his face and stumbled backwards a few feet. He was grinning wildly, as if he was about to break into hysterical laughter. I watched as his coat shifted from brown into a dark blue, a polka dot tie seemed to grow out of his shirt and his beard retreated backwards into his skin. He raised his empty hand and something started to grow out of it like a flower, something thin round and hollow, something black that started to gain thin white stripes. He placed it on his head as it continued to shape itself into his fedora. With the simple comment “I appreciate the gesture.” he stuffed the tape and photographs in his coat, while reaching into his pocket with his other hand. As he did so, the light slowly lifted off the road and hovered towards him, with the rest of the ship revealing itself around it. Walking in it’s direction he turned to me once again and said “Quite the ride, isn’t it? A classic 1951 Ford Prefect.” Then he gently pressed a hexagonal panel on the side, causing the yellow doorway and the stairs to appear. I had to do something. I couldn’t just let him take it. But I didn’t dare to stop him. I reached in my bag, hoping that I had brought my camera with me. Maybe I could at least get some proof. But all I had was my tape recorder. It’ll have to do, I just need to get him to talk again. He was already halfway up the stairs, when I gathered all my courage and asked: “Where are you taking it?” He turned around. In an instant, he looked at my hand. At my recorder. I tried to hide it, but it was too late. He didn’t seem to mind however, he just looked back at me and said: “Don’t worry, I’m just borrowing these to take a closer look. They do look very interesting.” I tried to keep it going: “So, I’ll get them back?” “Of course.” he said “I’ll even tell you what I find. I believe my equipment for analyzing photographs is much more sophisticated than yours.” He turned back again, when I thought of one more question to ask. One that might help convince the others. “Where exactly are you from?” He stopped for a moment. “Oh, that place is quite different from here. Not as… how do I say, consistent? But I do think you would like it there. Miss Sherwood, as much as I would love to stay for a longer interview, I do believe I must be going now. Perhaps another day?” With those words, the craft closed off behind him before ascending vertically through the clouds. That same moment, another light flooded the street behind me. I span around. It was the headlights of my own car. I rushed back inside, locked the doors and grabbed the recording I just made. I don’t know if that will convince Pellington or any of the others of what just occurred, but at least its something. Then I played it.

(sounds of thunder, heavy rain)

Sherwood: Wait! Wh… Where are you taking it? What are you gonna do?

[…]

Sherwood: So, does that mean I’ll get them back?

[…]

Sherwood: One more thing… Where exactly were you from again?

[…]

(sounds of quick footsteps)

(car door opens)

I stared at the recorder. Then I played the tape again. And again. I pressed my ear against it, hearing distant thunder, the howling wind and every raindrop that splattered against the wet road. But there was no sign of Indrid’s voice. He was there, I heard him talk, I saw him. Yet, the tape showed nothing. Just me talking to the empty road. Maybe I had gone insane. Did the past events take such a toll on my mind that I started hallucinating? But then, I reached into my bag. It was empty. No signs of the tape and pictures I knew I took with me. Whatever happened on this road, something took them. And that something had impersonated Pellington and Dewitt, I knew that, even if I could no longer prove it. Or could I? I didn’t have the recording or pictures, but Dewitt was still on the film. And the newspaper photo wasn’t the only one of it’s kind. I could still show the others the difference. Then I remembered the tape I made during the night of Dewitt’s supposed death. Fake Dewitt’s voice was still audible on it. That was it, I had to try and record it during one of it’s impersonations, then I could show that recording to the real person. They will hear themselves saying things they never said. My thoughts were interrupted by a light shining at me from behind. A panicked glance at the rear view mirror confirmed them to be just the lights of an incoming car. At least that’s what they looked like. Nevertheless they forced me to finally continue my drive down the road. The storm was still raging as I turned the ignition and the car sprang back to life. As I drove this last stretch, a new problem entered my mind. What was I going to tell Pellington? I told him specifically to not let me in unless I had the pictures with me. Pulling into his driveway I found myself hoping that he didn’t believe the things I told him over the phone. I waited a few moments until the car behind me had passed, confirming it to be nothing but a regular car, then I stepped back into the rain. Immediately, I was startled by footsteps behind me. It was Barker, quickly stepping up to the house. He gave me a quick wave and asked through the storm: “What are you doing here?” I didn’t respond. Unfazed, he continued: “Did he call you too? I wonder whats going on.” It looked like him, nothing at first glance that seemed off. I just kept walking to the door and knocked. To my relief, it was Scarberry who opened. “What’s this about?” He glanced at me and Barker before gesturing inside. “Come in already.” I gladly stepped into the warm house, finally taking off my dripping wet coat, all the while closely studying Scarberry’s face. Had his beard always been this long? He gave me a confused glance and I quickly looked away. Meanwhile Barker commented: “Thanks, a few more moments out there and we would have frozen to death.” Another door slowly opened and I saw Pellington’s distrustful eyes glaring at me. I glared back at him. He looked identical to the man at the door to my hotel room and the man I gave the pictures to. He approached slowly, as if not sure what to make of my presence. Finally he asked: “Can you tell me again: what is going on? There was a man that looked like me? Dewitt is alive?” “He is?” Barker asked surprised. I said nothing, glaring back and fourth between them. It could be any one of them. At least, it couldn’t be more than one at a time. I hoped. “Yes he is.” I sighed out. “I talked with him on the phone today, he’s with his sister.” I carefully studied their reactions. Scarberry just raised his eyebrows. Pellington barely reacted, he didn’t seem to buy it. Barker gave the most openly surprised reaction: “That’s great! How did he escape, did he tell you? Must be one hell of a story.” “No.” I just shook my head. “Too bad.” he remarked. Now Pellington spoke up: “That’s not what you said, you told me the day it took him, he wasn’t even here: That he left the day before that.” Now Barker turned to him, then back to me, seeming thoroughly confused. Scarberry too, gave me another strange look. Now that Pellington had brought it up, I had no choice but to try and explain everything. I first recounted everything Dewitt told me over the phone and reiterated his plan to leave after our very first encounter. They listened intensely, Barker seemed curious, Pellington remained skeptical. Scarberry’s expression was harder to read. Then I went on to the picture I found in his home and the difference between the real Dewitt and the fake. This is where Pellington interrupted again: “About that, you told me you had pictures to prove that. Where are they?” I dreaded this question. “I-” I began to stutter. What would I say? The image of that strange grinning man flashed before my eyes. “I don’t have them. It… It tricked me. It made itself look like you. I fell for it and gave all the pictures to it.” Now Pellington took a step back. “Now hold on. You told me, without the pictures, I shouldn’t even let you in.” He threw a quick glance at Scarberry. I feared he was about to throw me out, so I quickly shouted: “Wait, wait! I can still show you. He’s on the film! Scarberry, please get the projector.” Reluctantly, he walked towards the projector sitting in the corner of the room and set it up in front of the screen. “Now play it again!” I demanded. “The second one?” he asked and I nodded. He inserted the role of film with a clack that echoed through the quiet room. Barker and Pellington still stared at me with varying degrees of disbelief while Scarberry stood back up to dim the lights. Everything turned black. Then the familiar black and white images illuminated the screen once again. And there was Dewitt’s doppelganger. It was an uncanny sight. His mannerisms were on point, the way he moved and talked. It must have studied him intensely. Just as quickly, his face vanished again. “Wait, go back!” I yelled at Scarberry as the film continued playing. There he was again, on the ground, motionlessly. Or was it him? I looked closer. His large hat completely obscured his face, the only thing clearly visible was one outstretched hand. And it looked young, even younger than those of fake Dewitt. Just as the thing emerged in it’s Mothman form, the film cut off. Scarberry rewound it and froze on fake Dewitt’s face. “You see?” I asked them. “He looks younger, his hair is shorter.” I pointed at the screen. “And his beard is different too. Look here.” Scarberry looked at him, scratching his head, Barker started to look worried, Pellington seemed to be in complete disbelief: “This is your proof? You think he was replaced by a double because… he cut his hair? Groomed his beard?” Barker stepped forward, putting his hand on my shoulder. “Maybe you should sit down. We’ve all been under a lot of stress lately, I get it…” I shook him off. “You don’t get it! You should have seen the photo, it looks just like that! And the footprints, you all were there. They were human at first but then they turned to-” Pellington shook his head: “This again? Are you so desperate to prove that Mothman isn’t real? That everything was just some big hoax?!” Before I could respond, I was interrupted by a loud knock at the front door. No one said a word. Sheriff Johnson’s voice shouted from outside: “Pellington open up!” Barker started walking towards the door. Despite Pellington motioning him not to, he opened it and the sheriff along with another officer entered. One person from the group, I thought it was Barker, said: “Please do come in, Sherwood was just telling us about that shapeshifter from outer space.” That comment sent me over the edge. “I know what I saw! And I said nothing about outer space!” The entire room stared at me. “Outer space?” Barker asked nervously with a light chuckle. “Of course you didn’t, excuse me.” a voice said. A calm, polite voice with a strange accent, that seemed to come from right next to me. “I suppose that would be a little far fetched, wouldn’t it Miss Sherwood?” I froze. Everyone was still staring at me, showing no reaction to the voice. I began to panic. He was here. He was one of them. The sheriff looked around in apparent confusion while the officer she brought along didn’t seem to react at all. Barker slightly shook his head while looking over to Pellington, who himself was stepping backwards both from me and the sheriff. Scarberry meanwhile kept his eyes on me, paying no attention to the still running projector. I wanted to run. To get far away from this thing, this unseen presence hanging in the room. My eyes darted back and fourth between every one of them, trying desperately to find some detail, some inconsistency that would give it away. It was pointless. I was on the verge of storming out, when it struck me. This was a chance. I knew it was here, it was one of them. And so, as the sheriff began to talk and everyone’s eyes finally glanced away from me, I slowly reached into my bag, feeling for the tape recorder and with a quiet click, began to record.

Next to the regular typed out transcript, this page also has a few handwritten notes on it:

Johnson: … orders to confiscate a piece of footage in your possession. I think you know which one. The projector!

Officer: On it.

Pellington: Quick! George! Get it!

Officer: Don’t move!

Pellington: I knew it, I knew this would happen. I said we couldn’t trust her!

Johnson: Stop. This is for your own safety. We are trying to protect you. Mr. Scarberry, please hand over the film.

Pellington: Don’t.

Scarberry: For our safety? How?

Johnson: The Mothman. You don’t know what-

Officer: Orders from above. Now hand it over!

Pellington: You admit it then! You’re working with them. You’re all part of the cover up!

Johnson: You’re only making this worse. Please, you have to believe me, if you show this film to the world, it…

Officer: That’s enough.

Barker: Then what?

Officer: None of your concern.

Barker: I saw them too, remember? What did they threaten you with, your job? Your career, your life?

Johnson: Nothing, no, it’s not like that. It’s… We have to tell them.

Officer: You know what he said.

Johnson: They deserve to know. After everything they’ve been through already.

Sherwood: Who told you? …what?

Johnson: A man from the CIA. He came to our station just after I got back. He showed me documents on how… the Mothman was created. And tests. Tests on speed, strength, agility, combat performance. Then he showed what it does to its victims. Test subjects that it stalked for weeks, one at a time, waiting for just the right moment until…

Officer: Sheriff?

Johnson: That hunter, Ace Dewitt, he was doomed the moment he first saw it. They tried to capture it again, after it broke free but… they never could. All we can do to keep people safe is to stop them from going out there. To keep the legend from spreading further.

Barker: What about its next victim? Could it…

Johnson: You all saw it. And it saw you. That’s all I can say.

Officer: Sheriff, I think that’s enough.

Sherwood: This man… Are you sure he worked for the CIA?

Johnson: It wasn’t some fraud, if that’s what you’re getting at. He showed us his identifications. The documents were authentic too. There’s no doubt in my mind.

Sherwood: And did he talk to both of you? Did you both see all that?

Pellington: You just can’t help yourself, can you? You know how much she’s risking here just to tell us this? To tell us the truth! But you can’t stop playing the skeptic! Or do you thinks this CIA man was another shapeshifter of yours?

Sherwood: No, I was just…

I agree, that was a bit rude. Perhaps you should apologize.

Sherwood: I… Did you both see him or not?!

Officer: I only saw him walk in.

Johnson: I’m not making this up! The reason he only showed it to me is, because it was all classified. Now hand me the film already!

Pellington: I thought you were on our side!

Johnson: We can’t let more people get hurt. Now hand it over! Do you want even more to go look for it? To become its victims?

Scarberry: Alright, I… I don’t…

Sherwood: Scarberry, do not give her the film! Nothing is going to happen. It’s not real. That man was not CIA. She’s not-

I think she should have it. It would make for a nice gift, don’t you think?

Scarberry: What’s the matter with you?

Sherwood: Just… Just give me the film! Now!

Pellington: Don’t do that! I don’t know what’s going on with her, but… Barker? Hey Barker, where are you going?

Barker: I thought I heard something, but it was just… nevermind.

I suppose I can just give it to her myself.

Sherwood: You!

Scarberry: What? Hey!

(rapid footsteps)
Pellington: Stop! What are you doing?

Sherwood: It’s him! You’ll see!

Pellington: Are you insane?

Sherwood: He can’t have it! Get off me!

Officer: Hey! Get away from him!

Johnson: Get the film!

(glass shattering)

Scarberry: Where was…?

Pellington: Upstairs.

(scratching)

Johnson: Is that…?

(clicking)

Pellington: Get out. Everyone get out now!

(end of tape)

As soon as he said those words, he stormed out the door, taking Dewitt’s rifle with him. The rest followed in a panicked stampede. As I was pushed along with them, I caught a glimpse of two long feelers appearing from the top of the staircase, followed by two glaring red eyes. We rushed outside into the clear night, the rain finally having stopped. With the clicking right behind us, Pellington ripped open the door to his car and jumped inside, Scarberry close behind him. I rushed behind him as the huge moth wings flapped past me and the thing jumped on top of his car. I sprang back, the door slammed, the motor ignited and the car raced off with screeching tires. This threw the Mothman to the ground, but a moment later it had twisted itself back up. It took one brief look at me, before unfolding its wings again and rushing after the fleeing car. The sheriff and her officer, meanwhile, had gotten to their police car and took off after them. I was on my own. I looked around for Barker, but there was no sign of him. With my pounding heart and shaking body I staggered over to my own car, started the motor and followed the rest.

I soon found Pellington’s car, stopped on the side of the road. Its tires were slashed and huge claw marks had been scratched into the roof and the open front door. Scarberry and the sheriff were standing next to it. I slowed my car to a halt, fearing the worst. Until now I had hoped this incident was only meant to scare us. To get us away from the film. I ran over to them, the words “What happened?” escaping my mouth almost immediately. Scarberry’s pale face looked up at me, visibly out of breath he began to stutter: “It was on the car… clawed the door. It… it went for Pellington but… he shot it… ran after it…” “What?!” I yelped, struggling to breathe myself. “Where did he go?!” Pellington pointed towards the woods. “He wants to finish it before… before it recovers.” The sheriff added: “He was already gone when I got here.” There was no sign of her car or the officer. As if she knew what I was about to ask, she told me: “He went back to the station for backup, but I doubt we have enough time.” She motioned her head towards the woods, raising her gun at the same time. “We can’t go in there.” I tried to protest, but she stopped me. “That thing is going to kill him if we don’t. Even if its injured.” I was certain that this was exactly what Indrid wanted us to do. Feeding knowledge to the sheriff, the attack in the house, getting shot by Pellington, it was all part of his act, his plan. Even dropping the rifle itself at Dewitt’s fake death, I remember thinking, must have been intentional. But what could I say, that we should just leave him to fend for himself? Even if I convinced them, how could I know that that wouldn’t just aid Indrid’s plan further? In the end, I had no choice but to go along. A pair of headlights illuminated the road behind us. They stopped several feet away, turned off and a figure approached. “Sherwood, is that you? What’s going on here?” It was Barker. The Barker at the house wasn’t the real one, I was sure of that. I watched this one carefully as the sheriff quickly explained the situation, but now matter how much I strained my eyes, the darkness revealed little more than a silhouette vaguely shaped like him, bearing his voice. He seemed genuinely confused and concerned for Pellington but the words he spoke gave no indication as to whether he was or wasn’t at Pellington’s house a few moments ago. And so, holding her revolver and the group’s only flashlight, she stepped into the darkness between the trees, clearing a path for the rest of us to follow. I saw Scarberry pick up his pace as I stepped in behind him. I wanted to apologize for what I did, back at the house. But I knew that I couldn’t possibly explain what happened. All I could do is to tell myself that I wouldn’t let him trick me like this again. I looked back at Barker, who was following close behind me. I can’t tell how long we walked trough the woods that night. It felt like hours. Our whole group was silent, except for the occasional call for Pellington or reminder to stay close together. I paid close attention to every voice that spoke, always waiting for someone else to respond first. Being so far into the woods, with so little light, makes you feel your other senses heightening. I was uncomfortably aware of the smell of wet leaves filling my lungs, of every branch that snapped under my feet, every piece of shrubbery that brushed my arms. An owl’s distant hooting echoed trough the forest and send a visible shock trough every one of us. But still, there was no sign of Pellington. As I looked through the trees behind me, I started to become aware of something. It was difficult to see in the dark, but the area seemed to be ever so slightly illuminated by something red. Turning back I found that I had drifted dangerously far away from the rest. I was about to rush back to them when something grabbed my arm. I almost screamed. It was Barker, motioning me to be quiet, then pointing behind him. I saw it. The source of the eerie glow. Two red eyes were peeking at us from between the trees. I stood there, staring back at them. I wanted to scream, to run in panic but I couldn’t. There was something so mesmerizing about their red glare. After what must only have been a few seconds, two large wings unfolded behind it and it shot up into the night without making a sound. Thoughts were racing in my head. Thoughts on what to do. Should I tell the others? That’s probably what he wants. To scare us even deeper into the woods. A snapping twig next to me reminded me of Barkers presence. I was stunned at his facial expression, this was the first time I had seen him genuinely frightened. That means he saw it too. He was the one person who saw him as well. He was about to run to the others, but I grabbed him and pulled him back. “Barker! Barker stop!” I whispered. “You have to listen to me. This, this is all a trick. It’s not real.” “What are you talking about? Let go!” “Please. Today, before you arrived here, were you at Pellington’s house?” “What? Of course, we watched the film.” He tugged harder at my hand but I didn’t let go. “No, I mean after that. When the sheriff came back to confiscate it. When we were attacked.” “What’s the matter with you?” I finally let go, but only to get out the tape recorder. He was already staggering towards the rest while I fumbled with it in the dark. Finally I got it to play. “…saw them too, remember? What did they threaten you with, your job? Your career, your life?” He stopped at the sound of his own voice. With slow careful steps he turned back, his gaze fixated on the recorder as the conversation played out. Between Pellington, the sheriff and the other officer, he heard his voice again. “What about its next victim? Could it…” This time, it made his body twitch briefly. He looked at me, I could see his pale face through the dark as he asked: “When did this happen?” “Just before Pellington was attacked.” I skipped to the end, to the breaking glass and clicking sounds. He said nothing. “Dewitt was never taken.” I just continued. “He wasn’t even here that day, he left town the day before. Something took his shape, to make us think he’s dead, that the Mothman killed him. Like it took yours.” He kept staring at me silently, still too shocked to respond. A call broke the silence as a flashlight swept though the trees. “Sherwood? Barker?” “Look!” I pointed towards them. “If we tell them together, then-” “No!” He stopped me. “We can’t trust them!” The sheriff broke through the bushes. “Are you alright?! We thought we lost you!” “Everything is good.” Barker responded. “We just got lost, that’s all. Any sign of Pellington?” “No, but please stay closer to us. You can’t just wander off like that!” So, our march through the woods continued, only this time it was Barker who was carefully eyeing both Scarberry and the sheriff, so much so that she asked him multiple times if something was wrong, each time he came up with a different excuse for his behavior. After a while he whispered back to me: “Maybe we shouldn’t be following her blindly. Who knows, if she’s-” But he wasn’t quiet enough. “If you know the way, feel free to go ahead.” she stepped in, motioning in front of her. Barker responded almost instinctively with: “Oh sorry, we weren’t talking about you.” She scoffed and continued ahead. I stepped closer to Barker and, keeping my voice even lower, whispered: “ I don’t know. She’s the only one with a light. And a weapon. But if she is… if she is not herself. What do we do?” Even in the midst of all this horror, I still felt hugely relieved to finally have someone to talk to, someone who believes me. He shrugged. “How would we even know?” he asked back. “ And if we did know, then what?” I hadn’t thought of that. Even if Indrid would reveal himself somehow, what would we do then? What could we do? I glanced over to the sheriff, to her hand that held both the flashlight as well as her revolver. It wouldn’t be murder, I thought, the person he was imitating would of course still be alive. I just had to be sure. Very, very sure. Scarberry whispered something to the sheriff, to which she looked first at him, then at Barker and me. The night seemed to have gone quiet around us. Gradually, the deeper we went, the distant calls of owls and other critters became fewer and fewer. Even the wind, which used to howl and make the leaves and branches rustle, had quieted down. The only noises left were those of our own footsteps. A loud bang shattered the silence, then another. Everything went quiet again. The sheriff was the first who dared to speak up: “P-Pellington? Pellington was that you?!” No answer. Raising her gun, she cautiously took a few steps in the direction from where the gunshots came, motioning us to stay behind her. “Pellington?” She yelled again. Still nothing. We kept walking. “Pellington!” Suddenly, the sheriff stopped. We froze behind her. Something was moving, breaking through the twigs, barging towards us. We all stared at the approaching sound, the sheriff shining down her light, the gun in her other hand ready to fire. Pellington broke out of the bush, pointing his rifle straight at the sheriff. “Put that down! Now! And be quiet!” He looked horrible, his suit was torn, his hair and beard a mess, now matching his eyes which were glaring with near madness. Trying to deescalate the situation, the sheriff said, as calmly as she could: “Pellington, it’s us. We’re here to help. Put down the rifle, please.” but he barely registered what she said. “You did this. You’re part of it. You’re all part of it! It’s here. It’s after me. I have to get it. I have to-” “You have to come with us.” the sheriff tried again. “No! No, it’s injured, it’s weak. I have to get it, it can’t get away.” In a swift motion he drew the rifle up to the trees, then pointing it back at us. “What are you gonna do? I’m a witness, I saw too much, didn’t I? How are you gonna deal with that? Huh?!” He slowly backed away, the sheriff taking a step forward “We’re not going to do anything, nothing will happen to you please, at least stay with us. It attacks when you’re alone.” He just stared at her. “You’re not safe by yourself.” she continued “At least let us help you hunt it.” Slowly, with shaking hands, he lowered the rifle ever so slightly. Then he jerked it backup, spinning around and pointing the rifle to his right. “What?! Who said that?!” The sheriff stepped backwards as well. “There is no one there.” Pellington kept turning, pointing the rifle to his left, then behind him. “Where are you?! Who are you?!” Now he pointed it back at the sheriff, then at the rest. “Stop it! Who’s talking?!” The sheriff slowly raised her arms. “Nobody is…” “Shut up!” Pellington yelled. In a desperate attempt I stepped forward: “Pellington, don’t listen to him! Whatever he is telling you, don’t-” But it was too late, as another gunshot echoed through the woods. We ran. I don’t remember how long or how far. Everyone scrambled through the woods trying to find cover. I remember tripping, falling and staying down, listening intently for more gunshots. None came. I cautiously crouched back up and started looking for the others. Barker soon found me, waving and saying: “I found Scarberry and the sheriff.” “It’s one of them.” I whispered to him. “It talked to Pellington, in his head. It did the same to me.” For a moment I still feared if he would accept what I just said at face value, but he gave me an understanding nod, before leading me to them. I peered at them from the cover of a bush. Sheriff Johnson was leaning against a tree, her arm covered in blood, Scarberry standing right beside her. She appeared to have been hit by Pellington. Her revolver was dropped on the ground. My eyes drew themselves towards it. With my heart pounding against my chest, I stumbled out from behind the leaves. “Sherwood-” is all the sheriff got out as I jumped to the ground, clutched the revolver in both my hands and pointed it at them. My arms were shaking violently. “Are you insane?!” Scarberry yelled out. The moment I felt the gun in my hands, doubts began to flood my mind. What was I doing? I must have gotten delusional, pointing a firearm at someone because I thought they were… No. I know what I saw. He has to be one of them. I can end this right here. At that moment, Barker stepped out behind me, visibly shocked at what I was doing. “Sherwood, what are you doing? Are you sure about this? I think she really needs help.” I lowered my hands for just a moment, but in an instant as a calm voice spoke I snapped them back up. “Indeed Miss Sherwood, one shouldn’t make such decisions lightly.” “No!” I yelled at Barker. “This could be a trick. He’s here, I heard him!” I looked at the sheriff, her face had a convincing helplessness to it, like she struggled in her injury to make sense of the situation. Scarberry’s fear was equally persuasive, as if he wanted to run or call for help but didn’t dare to. I could barely stand to look at their expressions, but neither had I any choice to look away. “I know it’s one of you!” I yelled, as if this would somehow drive him out. “One of you isn’t real!” “Are you certain? I might just as well be standing right behind you.” His voice echoed in my skull, I swerved around to Barker, then back at them. “Shut up!” I wasn’t going to fall for that again. He was starting to get desperate, I felt it. “Alright! I’m going to ask some questions and you’re both going to answer them truthfully!” I barked at them as my mind raced through the events of the last hour. I turned to the sheriff first: “When you got to the car and met Scarberry, did you see any sign of Pellington or the Mothman?” “Please.. please don’t…” she stuttered. “Yes or no?!” I yelled, trying to drown out my inner voice screaming to put the gun down. “No.” she answered quietly, still in pain. Now over to Scarberry. “The sheriff said she arrived with her patrol car, then send her officer away to get backup. Did you see this happen?” He nodded slightly, barely distinguishable from his shaking. “Is that a yes?!” “Y-yes.” he stuttered. “But I didn’t!” Barker let out. I turned to him in surprise, but only for a moment. “I should have passed it, right? Well, I didn’t. I had no incoming traffic the entire way.” I now had the gun locked on the sheriff, without taking my eyes off her I yelled at Scarberry. “How much did you see? Did you see the car? Did you just see lights?!” The sheriff looked in Barker’s direction, her eyes pleading for help. I got no response from Scarberry, instead I got one from Indrid. “Do you think this mustache suits me?” I burst out a short laugh at this sad attempt. I was sure I had him now. “Look out!” Barker yelled from behind, but before I could react, I was tackled to the ground. “Stay down!” Above me stood Scarberry, panting and shaking, the barrel of the gun pointed at my head. “Don’t move!” he yelled, as he slowly backed off with the sheriff. My head turned to Barker, who started a slow approach before Scarberry turned the gun to him. “That goes for you too! You’re both insane!” Holding the sheriff with his other hand, he took a few more steps backwards before they both started to run. Barker rushed to help me get up, as their footsteps got more and more distant. They didn’t get far however, until a sound made them stop dead in their tracks. It was a howl. That deep, unearthly howl I have heard so many times before. The moonlight shining through the trees was, for a moment, completely covered by an enormous shadow. Leaves and a small twig fell down from the tree next to me. Barker was already fleeing the scene as fast as his legs could carry him while I scrambled in a panic to get up from the ground. Then, above me, I saw the eyes again, shining down from the top of the tree. I stumbled backward, starting to run, but in a single noiseless swoop it was now in front of me. It let out a high pitched screech as I now fled in the opposite direction. I ran aimlessly through the dark woods, heard the screech to my right, turned again in a panic, there were the eyes directly ahead, I almost fell down again but managed to catch myself. I kept running as it was now flying next to me, despite it’s enormous wingspan it effortlessly swooped in a zig zag between the trees, then it shot abruptly in my direction, I ducked and felt the wind rush as it flew out into a clearing. I was about to run off again, when I heard a new noise. It was similar to it’s howl, but much quieter. More akin to a soft ‘hoot’. I slowly turned my head to see it just sitting there, on the grass, looking at me. It didn’t attack. It didn’t even move. Just stared. Even though it was fully illuminated by the moon, I could only make out a large shadowy figure behind its blinding red eyes, with the vague impression of two enormous wings folded up on its side. Even though I knew what it was, I didn’t feel menaced by it at all. It almost seemed more curious, as if it was waiting for me. It let out a second quiet hoot. As I took a step forward, it unfolded its wings again. From what I could see, they looked like those of a giant bird, not at all like moth wings. In one swift motion, it shot towards the center of the clearing, where it flew several loops, before taking off and merging with the black night sky. I stood there, paralyzed, staring out at the clearing. It looked empty. Nothing but grass swaying in the breeze, with a particularly dark patch in the center. Still, I didn’t dare to step forward, to go where it wanted me to go. But then, I did see something. Something faint. I took a step forward, then the next. There really was something there, something in the air. At a slow, careful pace I marched to the center as my confusion grew. They were leaves. At the exact center of the clearing were three autumn leaves that seemed to hang suspended in mid air. It took my mind several moments to make sense of what I was seeing. The realization came as soon as I looked closely at the ground. What appeared to me at first as a dark patch of grass was in fact a large elliptical shadow. I held out my hand and slowly stretched it out ahead of me. I had no clue what to expect. Suddenly, it touched something. In a quick, fearful reflex, I drew it back. Then I carefully touched it again. It felt warm and metallic, with a slight constant vibration. Even though I felt it, even though I knew it was there, I still couldn’t see it. It was completely invisible. I began walking, drawing my hand along the surface of the craft. It felt incredibly bizarre. I only wished I would have been able to show this to Pellington and the rest. Suddenly, my hand touched something different. I felt around. It seemed to be some small elevated piece on top of the craft. At first it felt like a square, but it had more corners. It was just big enough for me to place my entire hand on it. Its texture felt quite different from the smooth metal around it, as if it was constructed out of even smaller pieces. I stopped for a moment. Was it empty? What if he, or it, was inside? Scarberry and the sheriff ran off in the complete opposite direction, I doubt any of them could have reached it before me. And I saw the Mothman fly off. Gathering all my courage, I began to apply a light pressure to the panel. I pushed harder until a light appeared. A yellowish green light, a thin beam at first, appearing to hover 8 feet above the ground while it expanded downward into a rectangular shape. It took my eyes several moments to adjust to the light. It revealed a hollow room, filled with several strange looking instruments. As I took a step closer, I hit my leg violently on something hard. I had to cover my mouth not to scream. I didn’t see anything my leg could have touched. But I sure felt it. Crouching down, I began feeling around with my hand. There was a metal structure there, a smooth surface ending in a straight wall. As I let my hand wander upwards, it wasn’t long until it reached another level plateau. It was a set of metal stairs. With great hesitation, I placed down a foot on the first step. Then the next. Just enough for me to get a good look inside the craft. In the center of the room was a large transparent ball, on a metallic pedestal, filled completely with some strange magma like liquid, which emitted the green glow. The rest of the craft appeared to be in constant flux, there were strange devices seemingly growing out of the metal walls, changing into something else, then disappearing again, lights that strieked across the walls in intricate patterns, displaying some kind of ever shifting language. At one point I saw two metal boxes rise up from the ground, each one had at first a human shaped hand print, which then changed into prints shaped like starfish, then into a surface which looked like it would be operated by an intelligent centipede. Yet this was nothing compared to the horror I had yet to witness. Daring to peer in just a little further, I saw at the far right end a tube of some kind. The equipment surrounding it, while still shifting, continued to give the impression of close, scientific scrutiny, creating fine pincers and other delicate instruments, at one point one gained what looked like an artificial eyeball. Inside this tube, was a body. A human body. One that had been dressed in a large round hat and a brown jacket, that was covered with huge scratch marks. I recognized it immediately, I’ve seen it far too often on that cursed film. Filled with dread, I slowly raised my eyes up to its face. I hoped that this was just some dummy, some plastic replica of Dewitt it used to stage his death. But it wasn’t. It was real. And as I peered up, the face that stared back at me was that of Woodrow Barker. No, I thought, no it can’t be. How long? How long has he been in here? Did I ever meet the real Barker? This entire time, it was always… I almost shot an innocent person. The sheriff or Scarberry, no matter who I would have convinced myself was him. And why show me this? I thought back to that shadowy figure. It looked like Mothman. But not like Indrid’s Mothman. Could it be that all this time…? “Sherwood, where are you?!” The distant voice turned my blood to ice. The voice that sounded like Barker’s. I leaped down from the unseen stairs, slammed down on the button and watched the unearthly glow disappear as I ran back for cover into the woods. Not a second later, Barker walked into the clearing. “Sherwood?” he called again, looking around. I watched him from behind a tree, trying to convince myself that what I just saw was just another trick, meant to make me afraid of the one person I could trust. But then, the final proof happened right before my eyes. After another nervous glance around the trees, he looked straight at the spot where the invisible thing still cast its shadow. With one hand he reached into his pocket and I watched as the shadow slowly moved to the right towards the trees, while getting less and less clear. After a few seconds, it had completely vanished. He looked in my direction. I pulled myself behind the tree. “Sherwood?” his voice called again. I hoped he hadn’t seen me. His footsteps got closer as he called again. “Sherwood, are you there?” I didn’t move, barely dared to breathe. Maybe he would go away. He didn’t. He only came closer. Did he see me? Did he know that I knew? By now, he was so close, he must have been able to spot me any moment. Unarmed, the only choice I had now was to play along, to hope that he didn’t see me open it and that his mental transmissions only worked one way around. I stepped out, trying my best to suppress my nervousness. “Barker! I wasn’t sure it was really you.” “Glad you’re okay, what happened? I only saw it chase after you, I thought you were done for.” He still retained the same ever so slightly cheerful demeanor. I tried to respond casually. “I don’t know, it chased after me but then I think I shook it. I didn’t see it anymore.” “So it left? It’s not still around here?” he asked while turning his head around. “As I said, it went away. Probably after Pellington, not me.” He nodded, then his facial expression changed slightly as he asked: “And you didn’t see anything else unusual around here?” My heart was pounding against my rib cage as I shook my head. “No… No I was just walking around trying to look for you actually. I didn’t see anything else.” I had always been a terrible liar. He appeared to buy it however, or at least pretended to, as he didn’t linger on it for long. “So what’s the plan now?” What was the plan? What was he planning? What did he want me to do now? Maybe I should suggest that we leave, to get him as far away from Pellington as possible? Even if this worked, it wouldn’t actually solve anything, he would just take a new form and continue this game he was playing. I might never have this chance again, for once I truly knew who he was. If only I still had the revolver, I might be able to end all of this. Scarberry and the sheriff were likely already gone, I hoped they were. The one person who was armed and still nearby was Pellington. But I couldn’t bring this thing to him either, there is no telling what it would do. But what choice did I have? “If it is after Pellington, we have to try again. To get him out of here. I know it’s dangerous, but without the sheriff we might get him to trust us.” “About that…” Barker said quietly “I know this thing is messing with your head, but please don’t go off trying to shoot someone like that, alright? You scared me pretty bad, for a moment I thought you would turn on me too.” I was filled with guilt, then rage. He was the one who drove me to do it, it was his doing, not mine. Still, I just responded calmly. “I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.” That’s just what he would want, for me to lash out and reveal myself. “I just hope we can find him again.” he continued “And that it’s not too late.” At first we began aimlessly walking the woods again, but the sound of another gunshot soon gave us a clear sense of direction. The entire time I felt a constant tension throughout my body. I didn’t dare to even look over to Barker, as I thought that every wrong move might expose me. Then again, maybe he noticed that I was avoiding looking at him. He must have noticed something, as he asked. “You don’t think that I’m… not me, do you? I swear it’s me, we saw it together, we-” “It’s alright, I believe you.” I cut him off, before he could go into details. I quickly made up a reason. “We just heard Pellington fire at it, right? If it’s there, it can’t be one of us.” “Makes sense.” he nodded. Another, louder shot told us we were near. And we soon saw where it came from. It was a red, square building, ruined, with large broken windows and vines climbing up from the side. This was the old power plant, the heart of the TNT area. And perched on top of it, as if it was waiting for us, was the Mothman. The real one. Bathed in the moonlight, wings folded around its body, this unearthly figure throned majestically above its red castle. At its sight, Barker seemed frightened. At first, I thought he was faking it, part of his usual act, but there was something about his expression. It wasn’t how he looked at our very first encounter, or when talking about his men in black. He had this look of genuine terror, one that I have never seen in him before and one that I will likely never forget. Another figure stumbled out from behind the building, one with wild, messy hair a torn up suit and a large hunting rifle. As Pellington raised the rifle up to the top of the building, seeming to aim right between the shining red eyes, did Indrid’s true plan reveal itself to me. “Pellington, no!” I ran out screaming, giving just the right distraction for him to miss the shot. Barker ran after me. “What are you doing, he almost got it!” “Stay where you are!” Pellington yelled, the rifle now facing both of us. “You’re not gonna stop me! It’s still here.” He turned back to the building. The Mothman was gone. There was no point in trying to convince him of anything. I had to get the rifle somehow. “What?!” he suddenly yelled. “You again?! Where are you?” He frantically looked around, as if he was searching for someone. Then he stopped. “You do?” I couldn’t prevent myself from staring at Barker, the instant he looked back I snapped my head away. I knew what he was doing and I knew I couldn’t stop him. Pellington turned to the building, looked back as if waiting for confirmation, then, with a firm grasp on his rifle, he broke through the old door. I saw his figure aiming the rifle back and fourth across the room. Trying not to make a sound, I followed, knowing what would happen if he would, in the dark confuse me for Mothman. Barker however, kept standing outside, beside the door. For once I had actually hoped he would follow me. Suddenly, I got an idea. It was a highly dangerous one, one that might backfire in a number of horrible ways. But I had to try. I took a few more steps away from the door, to make sure Barker wouldn’t hear me, then I whispered. “Pellington.” I heard his startled spin towards me. “Shh!” I told him. “Don’t move, I can see it.” “Where?” he asked in a panic. “I have a good shot, give me the rifle.” “What? No! Where is it?” I stretched out my hand. “Just do it! It’s going to see us any moment.” This did the trick, I felt the wooden handle weigh down my hand. A quick glance showed Barker still in the same position, watching the unfolding event. I aimed the rifle towards the upper window, took a few steps to the right pretending to get into a better position. I felt his presence next to me. Knowing what I was about to do, it was still difficult. It still felt like I was about to take the life of another human being, of a friend. But then I thought about the harm he caused, playing this game from the start, how it drove us all into madness. How it almost made me kill an innocent person. Without another thought, I spun around to the open door and pressed the trigger. Everything slowed down. The shot reverberated through the ruined building. I watched Barker clutch his chest, stumble a few feet, before collapsing face first onto the ground. He didn’t move. That was it. No transformation, no reveal of its true form, just a dead body lying on the ground. Was I wrong? No, it can’t be. I walked over to the body as a pool of blood started to form around it. He couldn’t have been the real one. I dropped the rifle and looked back at Pellington. His eyes were twitching back and forth between me and Barker’s body. “Wha- Why did you do that?” He was in utter shock. I couldn’t answer him. I couldn’t stand his gaze. I rushed out the door, past the body back towards the woods. There I froze. I had nowhere to run. Nowhere I could go. Had I ended it? Had I killed him? Or was it all another trick? The thought crushed me, I just stared out at the trees, hoping that the Mothman would swoop down and carry me away. “What the-!?” Pellington’s scream made me turn back. He stood next to the body, pointing at it with a shaking finger. “The… the blood!” is all he got out. I took a few steps back, keeping my eyes on the red puddle around him. What was he talking about? As I knelt down, I saw it too. It looked strange. Like it itself was alive. I dared to touch it. It had a slimy quality, but it wasn’t a liquid. It was a strange, red, organic membrane that was continuously growing out of the dead Barker. Out of his clothes. Suddenly, his whole body began to twitch violently. Both Pellington and I stumbled away from it. It began to change, its limbs twisting and bending in impossible way, while its head was perfectly still in the center. Grinning at us. The red membrane turned deep blue and wrapped itself around the body, a plant like growth began to appear on its head, at first black, but as it grew it gained more and more white stripes. The more disturbed our reaction became, the wider its grin grew. In one final painful jerk, all the different parts snapped into a single cohesive form. There stood Indrid Cold, both hands in his pocket, as calm and collected as always. “Ah, Mr. Pellington.” his voice rang in my head as he turned to him. “We haven’t been formerly introduced, the name’s Indrid Cold.” He offered his hand to shake, but Pellington did not move. “Tsk, tsk.” he said as he returned his hand back to his pocket. “You country bumpkins should really learn some manners.” “Y-you.” Pellington whispered, barely audible under his breath. “And Miss Sherwood, I am still very much looking forward to reading that article of yours. I do hope I will be credited for my contributions.” he said, placing his hand on his chest in a self affirming gesture. “Not to take away the spotlight from your superb research, of course.” He just stared at me, waiting for a response, while seeming satisfied by the fact that I was too afraid to. Then he took another long glance at the scenery around him. For a moment he was fixated on a single point, as he spoke: “You did pick a very beautiful night to go hunting.” Turning to face Pellington, he motioned his head towards the rifle on the ground. “Would you like another try?” The moment he said those words, something began to move beneath the skin of his head. It emerged from the left side of his grinning mouth, something like a thin black arm with three joints and a claw at the front. Or like the mouth part of a huge insect. An identical thing burst free on his right side, they burst against each other, producing a repeated clicking noise while smaller parts emerged all around the mouth. His eyes began to grow and multiply, while taking on a glowing red color. Two of the black stripes on his hat grew longer and longer until they took on the appearance of the feather-like antennae of a moth. And his arms stretched downward with several twisted movements, they became the long claws that had grasped what I now knew to have been Barker’s body. I felt a violent urge to puke at the sight of this horrible transformation. Pellington was already holding the rifle, but before he had a chance to fire a shot, Indrid had already unfolded his wings and buzzed into the building. His glowing eyes were moving around from window to window and I heard his clawed hands and feet scratching at the walls. With a bang, Pellington shot through one of them, then another and another. His breathing became concerningly fast, almost to the point of hyperventilation. “Where is he? Where is he?” he kept mumbling. But the eyes were gone. As he quieted down, I also failed to make out any scratching. The silence was deafening. My eyes were glued to the windows, trying to make out any shape, any red glow. “Do you see it?” Pellington asked. I shook my head, by I doubted he even registered my response. “Don’t move!” a voice suddenly called behind us. It was the sheriff’s officer, his revolver drawn. “Put your weapon down! We have you surrounded!” “Thank god!” I yelled out. “You have to help us-” “Stay there!” he shouted. Then he turned his gun upwards. “What the hell is that?!” Indrid’s red eyes were gleaming down from the top of the building. He raised his wings, ready to pounce. “I have you now!” Pellington shouted, taking aim. It leapt down from the building. “No!” I yelled in a sudden realization, pushing Pellington to the ground. With a deep howl it swooped down above our heads. The next second, the howl was drowned out by a terrible, unearthly sound, a sound that was completely unlike any noise ever heard on this planet, a sound that did not quiet down by an inch no matter how tightly I pressed my hands against my ears. As I stumbled to my feet, I caught a brief glimpse of the unfolding scene, a glimpse that will no doubt be forever burned into my memory. The spot that the Mothman was flying towards, the same spot where just a moment ago that police officer stood, was now occupied by a huge, writhing, shifting mass of lashing tendrils, gaping maws, bulging eyes, clawed arms and other organs I do not dare to describe. That was the last glimpse I ever caught of Indrid Cold, before I ran out, far, far into the dark forest, until that terrible sound finally ceased. Not gradually, in and instant it was simply gone. I lost track of Pellington in the process. After stumbling aimlessly through the woods for what might have been hours I somehow found my way back to the car and drove home. The police never arrived. Maybe something stopped the officer on his way, or maybe they have gotten a call from their ‘CIA man’, telling them to stay away. I don’t know what will happen to me. I don’t know if I will ever be believed. I don’t know if Pellington will ever be believed, if his mental state would even allow for proper corroboration of my account. The only thing that would prove me right at least in part is that film. It’s possible that Indrid took it after chasing us out. It’s possible that the sheriff managed to grab it in the confusion that ensued. It’s possible that it is still out there, in the very projector we left it, for somebody to discover. But after everything that happened, I can’t help but think that maybe it is for the best if that film were never recovered. What it shows, after all, was never the real Mothman, just the Mothman Indrid wanted us to see. Maybe these things were never meant to be discovered. There are forces at work in this small town, cosmic forces that none of us could ever hope to control or understand. Perhaps the Mothman’s true nature must forever remain a mystery.

And this is the end of Sherwood’s notes. As I mentioned at the start, Pellington himself would go on to be admitted to the Trans-Allegheny Psychiatric Hospital, diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia. The few statements of his that were made public after his diagnosis add little to Sherwood’s account, his version of events seems highly confabulated, yet somehow the events described by Sherwood appear even more far-fetched. Sherwood herself quit her job at the Skeptical Inquirer and completely withdrew from public attention, very few details of her life are known following this incident. Beyond a few headlines about a conspiracy nut going insane, these events never garnered much attention until in 1979, Sherrif Johnson herself was the first to come forward of what she believed to have been the source of Pellington’s paranoid delusions: A very real film he shot, that depicted the Mothman dragging away one of its victims. Finally, the release of John A. Keel’s second book on the subject “The Mothman Prophecies Revised” in 1982 firmly cemented the Pellington film as part of the Mothman folklore.

I truly don’t know what to make of this story. Maybe Sherwood suffered a psychotic break of her own and confabulated large parts of her account. Maybe the entire journal is a well crafted hoax, taking pieces of Pellington’s statements and mixing them with established Mothman lore. There are dozens of good reasons to dismiss everything you just read. However, there is one more detail that I believe to be worth mentioning. Except for a small number of newspaper articles, two of which were included here and a few statements made by Johnson and Pellington, I could not turn up any records whatsoever of a Woodrow Barker ever living in or around Point Pleasant. The one thing I did find was a tourist matching his description being reported missing in early September of 1976.

Credit: Michael Baldur Jansen