“Caspian,” I called out, finally seeing him. He was sitting on a rock in the river that was half-submerged in water. His long black hair was hanging down his back in waves past his shoulder blades. He didn’t stop playing his violin and didn't acknowledge me at all. I moved closer, listening to his song in the night, both haunting and beautiful.
As I got closer, things seemed to be wrong. His hair was thick strips instead of small strands and glossy with a green shine. His skin had a pale, blue color instead of the normal olive tone. He was only wearing pants, his feet buried in the water to his calves.
The calmness and peace began to leak away. The music sounded harsher now, too fast and jerky. All the notes were sharp. It sounded threatening.
I walked around to see his face, trying to get his attention, but his hair hung thickly in front of his head. I felt nervous and unsure—an anxious feeling building in me. There were no tattoos on his blue skin.
“Caspian?” I asked quietly. Was thisreallyhim? My eyes trailed to his violin where he pressed the strings and pulled the bow. The music was growing louder into a crescendo, the notes straining over the increasing noise of the river. The water’s flow was fast now. It splashed brutally against rocks, spraying up behind Caspian and sprinkling his body.
He refused to look up, to even react. My eyes trailed to his fingers, something was wrong with them. He stretched them out to play a note and I stumbled back, seeing webbing. My heart pounded in my chest.
His hair began to divide and glowing yellow eyes peered out, resembling an alligator’s at night—like mirrors, reflecting light. I held my breath as we looked at one another. His stare felt mesmerizing, his music overwhelming. The urge to walk out into the water plucked at my muscles.
The sound of Caspian whispering flew around my head like a haunting of ghosts. The words were all the same, “come to me”, overlapping and merging. It was as if there were more than one of him, all pleading quietly in my ears—taunting me forward.
His lips never moved.
“Come to me,” whispered in my ear. I wanted to even though I was scared and confused. Even though he looked strange. Stranger than I first noticed—sharp long ears poking from his hair, bony fin-like protrusions glued on his forearms.
But itwasCaspian. I could feel it and I wanted to do what he begged me to. I wanted to be with him.
A high-pitched grating noise shot through my head, making me cry out. It sounded like speakers screeching with bad feedback. I jerked my head to the forest. Two circular, glowing red eyes looked from between thin trees and shadows. The monster’s body was shaped like a man’s but hidden in shadows.
The dream felt too real—all of it—and suddenly I justknewthat Mothman was real and that he was coming for me.
Mothman stepped out from shadows and I saw a leather hat on his head, the brim wide and worn, cloaking his face in shadows. A dark brown leather duster coat hung down to hide the tops of his boots, swaddling his body from sight, hiding what differences might lay underneath.
The glowing red eyes never blinked, burning into me, making my eyes widen. I felt unable to look away. The rest of his face was pure blackness. A void of darkness.
Behind me, Caspian’s violin screeched, the bow bearing down on strings that threatened to snap. It sounded angry, filled with rage.
It was all too overwhelming, two monsters demanding my attention, angry it was divided. The violin squealed and the white noise from Mothman buzzed in my head at the same time.
I screamed, slamming my hands to my ears, half expecting to feel blood leaking out.
“Ava!” A voice in my ear called to me.
My eyes popped open and the tent’s ceiling came into view just barely visible in the darkness. Caspian was pressed up on his elbow, looking at me with wide eyes.
I patted the mattress around me until I felt my phone. It was four in the morning. I swallowed and laid there, blinking at the ceiling of the tent. Caspian must have woken me because I was screaming in my sleep. I shuddered for a brief second, still feeling the cloying dream in my mind.
“Sorr—” Before I could finish apologizing for screaming he pressed his hand to my mouth, not letting me finish.
That’s when I heard it. The shuffle and crunch of twigs and leaves outside the tent.
The raccoons were back? A twig broke under the weight of something too big to be a raccoon. Steady, heavy footsteps moved close to the tent, circling around the camp.
The sensation from the dream wouldn’t leave me. It felt even stronger now. There was something in the woods that wasn’t human or animal and it was close—watching.
It washere.
A scratching noise slid slowly across the side of my SUV. My heart pounded in my chest and my inside churned nervous energy. My mind replayed the ranger’s details about a blood-soaked mouth and I imagined a pile of rib cages in a cave.
Mothman was in our camp. I felt it in my bones. That wasn’t Caspian’s bandmates or some other camper. It was something that terrified me. Something that felt unnatural and alien.
The scraping, scratching noise continued dragging across the vehicle as if someone was pacing around it. Did it think we were inside the car? Did it want to eat us?
Caspian moved his hand from my mouth. I reached out and grabbed him, not wanting to lose contact.
