photograph by samantha cooke
I’ve always loved a good scary story. Ghosts at the Orpheum Theatre, pigmen in the Meeman-Shelby Forest, classic campfire tales, grisly horror movies — I thought I knew about all of them. But my encounter with the Mothman of Point Pleasant, West Virginia, changed everything.
I wanted to see the creature, described as tall and birdlike with glowing red eyes, for myself. He was first spotted by a young couple driving near Point Pleasant on November 15, 1966, and has terrorized the locals ever since. Some consider him an ill omen, claiming that he appeared on the Silver Bridge before it collapsed in 1967, plunging 31 vehicles into the Ohio River and killing more than 40 people, while others say he merely gives helpful warnings. No one can say for certain what the mysterious Mothman’s true nature is.
Whatever the case, I knew the site of the old bridge was where I needed to look. Where I could find some real answers.
“I’m not actually a bad guy, you know? People just freak out when they see me. Just because I look like this and try to tell people my premonitions doesn’t mean I’m evil.”
Night fell fast at the overlook, and soon my only source of light was the moon reflecting off the rippling Ohio River. But I came prepared. I pulled out a myriad of flashlights from my backpack, switching them all on to create a beacon bright enough to draw moths for miles.
That’s when he came.
The Mothman of Point Pleasant had hypnotic eyes so bright they cast the rest of his body in shadow. Even within the light of my personal sun, I could only make out giant leathery wings like black holes, two powerful legs, and taloned feet the length of my arm. When he spoke — and he did speak — it sounded like a bad radio signal, his gruff voice layered with staticky hissing that hurt my ears.
“Thanks for the light,” he said beneath clicking mandibles. “What can I do for ya?”
Later he gave me a warm mug of something green and told me his story.
“I’m not actually a bad guy, you know? People just freak out when they see me. Just because I look like this and try to tell people my premonitions doesn’t mean I’m evil. They blamed that bridge on me, too. That couple saw me a whole year before the tragedy, and still I’m the bad guy! You feel me?”
I nodded, eyes wide.
“At this point, I just want people to know the truth. Like you! You weren’t afraid of me, right?”
I shook my head out of politeness, even though I absolutely was.
“Then I’ll tell you about the real cryptids to look out for. The creatures that go bump in the night, the ones humans think are mere folklore. To help boost my image, you know? Not that I want everyone acting buddy-buddy with me. Just enough so a guy can ask for directions without people screaming. Are you writing this down?”
I was now. And so, here is a guide to some cryptids and other monsters of the South, according to Mothman:
Mothman
Really not a bad guy. Known to see the future and appear as an omen of disaster. Which does not mean he causes them, just so you know.
Appearance: 7 feet tall, red eyes, black body and wings.
Where to find him: All over West Virginia, but mainly Point Pleasant.
What to do: Nothing. He just wants to say hi, then he will leave you alone.
Flatwoods Monster
Mothman’s good buddy. Unseen by the public since 1952, it’s believed to be an alien or robot capable of causing psychic damage to onlookers. It also makes some killer cookies.
Appearance: 10 feet tall, red spade-shaped head, green metallic dress, glowing eyes, reptilian hands.
Where to find it: The Flatwoods of West Virginia.
What to do: Walk away. It will attack if provoked, so leave it alone and you’ll be fine.
Rougarou (or, Loup-garou or Werewolf)
Originally human, the Rougarou is cursed to be sickly during the day and transform into a wolf at night. The curse lasts for 101 days before it can be transferred to someone else through drawn blood. Not much to say personality-wise, since every Rougarou is different.
Appearance: A human body with the head of a wolf. Capable of walking upright or on all fours.
Where to find them: The swamps of Louisiana.
What to do: Take preventative measures by laying 13 small objects outside your door. They can’t count past 12, and will spend the whole night trying to count them before they have to run away at sunrise. They’re also not fans of silver.
At this point Mothman paused and stared at me for a while. I could feel him in my brain, the radio-like static growing louder and enveloping my senses. When I came to, my ears were ringing and my mug was shattered on the ground. Mothman didn’t seem to care.
“Ah, you’re from Texas, I see. Perhaps something a little closer to home”:
La Llorona (or, the Weeping Woman)
When her husband abandoned her for another woman, La Llorona’s mind snapped and she took the ultimate revenge: leading her children to the river, drowning them both, and then herself. Ever since, she’s haunted the earth, crying for her lost children and luring others to the water to drown them as well. She’s actually pretty scary.
Appearance: A ghostly woman with long dark hair and a white dress.
Where to find her: All across Mexico and southern Texas, usually near a body of water.
What to do: Avoid at all costs. Even hearing her wails could mean death, so stay inside after dark.
Mothman paused again. I heard him in my head, louder than ever. I bit back a scream before the shrieking static disappeared once more.
“Oh, but you live in Memphis now. Very interesting. Now, what to do with that … how about one nearby that you won’t have heard about?”
All I could do was shiver, which he took for a nod.
White Bluff Screamer
Never seen by human eyes, the Screamer shrieks in the night and strikes terror into the locals. The legend goes that a family heard its screams for several nights before the father went into the woods to investigate. When he heard sounds coming from his own house, he returned to find his family dead. No attacks have occurred since, but screams can still be heard in the forest.
Appearance: Unknown. Possibly a banshee or wild animal.
Where to find it: In the woods surrounding Montgomery Bell State Park.
What to do: Nothing. We never know if it will strike again.
I won’t talk about how I got away. It’s all a blur of adrenaline, if I’m being honest. What terrifies me most, though, is knowing that I only escaped because Mothman wanted me to.
So, here’s my piece of advice: don’t be like me. Don’t go looking for answers you can’t begin to comprehend. These creatures are not of our world, and they play by different rules. This Halloween, I urge you to stay safe and don’t go out alone. Keep an eye on your children, don’t wander far from any lit roads, and remember that most cryptids won’t attack unless approached. We may not be able to do anything once they strike, but — if we’re lucky — we can prevent it from happening.
ALL IMAGES COURTESY SAMANTHA COOKE
