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Authors: Gray Barker
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trailer. In fact it had been hard for us to go to sleep ever since all this happened. Linda gets so frightened in the middle of the night. Sometimes she’ll get up and it will be half an hour before she gets settled down again and goes to sleep.”
“I still get the feeling that it’s around,” Steve added. “It’s just a feeling, but sometimes you almost know it is there. You can’t see it, but you know it’s around, and that it’s watching you from the darkness!”
The next day, still shaken by their experiences, but again strangely compelled to revisit the scene, the two couples decided to return to the T.N.T. area and investigate.
Steve entered the old power plant building through a decrepit door, sagging on rusty hinges. He heard a loud clang. He started, then surveyed the interior. One of the large boiler doors was open.
Aside from that noise, the interior was strangely quiet. Then he noted the reason: the large flock of pigeons that previously had occupied the building and filled it with flappings and cooings were no longer there. He wondered why. Could Mothman have frightened them away? The creature probably was using the building as a hideout.
He heaved at one of the other large boiler doors. It was rusty and didn’t give easily. Finally the complaining hinges gave way and the door swung open. As it opened, Steve once again experienced that compelling fear of the previous night, and felt he should get out of there.
Then, suddenly in the cavernous darkness of the immense boiler, a large dark form seemed to flutter by. Steve stumbled out of the building, white as a sheet.
“It’s in there! It’s in the boiler!”
They wondered what they should do. But none of them could summon enough courage to re-enter the building.
“Hey, look at this,” Roger shouted, bending near the ground. “I think we’ve found its tracks!”
They examined the important finding.
“They aren’t bird tracks, that’s for sure!” commented Steve. “They’re more like horse tracks.”
Impressed in the coal dust was a series of broken ovals, somewhat horeshoe-shaped, but only about three or four inches in diameter. Roger put his foot beside one of them and bore his weight down. But the Mothman track remained much more deeply impressed.
“I had to work my feet around several times to make as deep a track as those,” he told me. The thing must have been much heavier than I.”
Next they drove to the Lewis Gate, where they had spotted the dead dog, and there, too, were the tracks, along with those of a dog, in a soft, muddy spot.
“We examined the ditch there. The thing must have leaped out of it when it jumped over the car, for something had dug into the side of the ditch, apparently as it was climbing out. It was all torn up, and reminded us of a spot near the T.N.T. building where something had just stood and clawed up the ground.”
They also checked at the Thomas residence the next day, after the thing had dropped into the yard the night following the initial sighting. They found only one track, but the ground was very solid there.
“You know,” Roger added, “I don’t know whether it was really trying to get us or not. I believe it could have got us if it had really wanted to. Sometimes I get the impression it might have been trying to communicate, and that would be why it chased after us. But instead it scared us.”
“Are you saying you think it might be friendly?” Ben Franklin asked.
“I don’t know. It might be. I only wish I knew.”
Ben and I drove over to the Ohio side, rather than stopping at the nearby Gene Ball’s restaurant, and we needed some time to collect our thoughts after the amazing interview. Both of us, usually garrulous, had grown silent as soon as we had left the witnesses.
“I believe it wants to tell us something!”
Ben blurted this out suddenly and loudly, breaking the silence.
Of course I knew Ben might not be too objective about Mothman, for he was a man who
“I still get the feeling that it’s around,” Steve added. “It’s just a feeling, but sometimes you almost know it is there. You can’t see it, but you know it’s around, and that it’s watching you from the darkness!”
The next day, still shaken by their experiences, but again strangely compelled to revisit the scene, the two couples decided to return to the T.N.T. area and investigate.
Steve entered the old power plant building through a decrepit door, sagging on rusty hinges. He heard a loud clang. He started, then surveyed the interior. One of the large boiler doors was open.
Aside from that noise, the interior was strangely quiet. Then he noted the reason: the large flock of pigeons that previously had occupied the building and filled it with flappings and cooings were no longer there. He wondered why. Could Mothman have frightened them away? The creature probably was using the building as a hideout.
He heaved at one of the other large boiler doors. It was rusty and didn’t give easily. Finally the complaining hinges gave way and the door swung open. As it opened, Steve once again experienced that compelling fear of the previous night, and felt he should get out of there.
Then, suddenly in the cavernous darkness of the immense boiler, a large dark form seemed to flutter by. Steve stumbled out of the building, white as a sheet.
“It’s in there! It’s in the boiler!”
They wondered what they should do. But none of them could summon enough courage to re-enter the building.
“Hey, look at this,” Roger shouted, bending near the ground. “I think we’ve found its tracks!”
They examined the important finding.
“They aren’t bird tracks, that’s for sure!” commented Steve. “They’re more like horse tracks.”
Impressed in the coal dust was a series of broken ovals, somewhat horeshoe-shaped, but only about three or four inches in diameter. Roger put his foot beside one of them and bore his weight down. But the Mothman track remained much more deeply impressed.
“I had to work my feet around several times to make as deep a track as those,” he told me. The thing must have been much heavier than I.”
Next they drove to the Lewis Gate, where they had spotted the dead dog, and there, too, were the tracks, along with those of a dog, in a soft, muddy spot.
“We examined the ditch there. The thing must have leaped out of it when it jumped over the car, for something had dug into the side of the ditch, apparently as it was climbing out. It was all torn up, and reminded us of a spot near the T.N.T. building where something had just stood and clawed up the ground.”
They also checked at the Thomas residence the next day, after the thing had dropped into the yard the night following the initial sighting. They found only one track, but the ground was very solid there.
“You know,” Roger added, “I don’t know whether it was really trying to get us or not. I believe it could have got us if it had really wanted to. Sometimes I get the impression it might have been trying to communicate, and that would be why it chased after us. But instead it scared us.”
“Are you saying you think it might be friendly?” Ben Franklin asked.
“I don’t know. It might be. I only wish I knew.”
Ben and I drove over to the Ohio side, rather than stopping at the nearby Gene Ball’s restaurant, and we needed some time to collect our thoughts after the amazing interview. Both of us, usually garrulous, had grown silent as soon as we had left the witnesses.
“I believe it wants to tell us something!”
Ben blurted this out suddenly and loudly, breaking the silence.
Of course I knew Ben might not be too objective about Mothman, for he was a man who
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