His intention had been to ease the car to halt before they crashed into the object obstructing their path. Instead, he blindly mashed his foot forward. Roger slammed his foot down on the gas and accelerated toward the creature lumbering slowly. It hulked its way across the yellow reflective lines that stretched down the middle of the blacktop. In the split second before impact, Roger could see every unnatural fiber that clung to its inky black skin. Each of its dome-like eyes were covered in large hexagonal red plates that glittered as its head swayed back and forth. The Chevelle’s rectangular nose crumpled like a sad cereal box against something solid and immovable. Roger’s vision went black.
When he awoke, he found that the surprisingly upright car was rolling aimlessly across the road where the creature had been. Roger was slumped across the steering wheel, his foot barely hitting the brakes enough to prevent the vehicle from careening into the ditch - or worse, over the guardrail. He shook himself the rest of the way awake and steered the car back onto the correct side of the road. When his friends came to, they seemed to have thought they had nodded off as Lisa had been asleep. Only Roger remembered the daunting winged shape in the middle of their path.
Maggie is striding confidently toward the great metal eyesore growing dimmer and less attractive as the day grew to a close. Across the street, Tucker watches the Flutterby Diner, a fun moth-themed restaurant created by local Tina McFarlan to combat the ‘macabre display’ as she put it. Underneath the guise of an upright Christian woman with a flair for the dramatic, she is simply the daughter of yet another local lawyer who has too much money to play with. Someone clears their throat and brings Tucker’s focus back to Maggie. She is sitting down on the edge of the statue’s concrete base, a fist raised to her mouth in a mock cough. In her other hand, a brown paper bag is extended toward Tucker. He takes it, knowing that she has packed a lunch for him. Again. Like a shadow, Peter slides in beside her on the stone ledge and takes one of the other two paper bags sitting beside her. Maggie doesn’t react – it literally has Peter’s name written on it in sharpie, after all.
Peter is a head and a half shorter than Maggie, even sitting down. His feet barely touch the ground, yet he seems to take up as much space as a sumo wrestler. His broad shoulders and prominent muscles flex beneath the thin fabric of his black hoodie. The hoodie is a staple of his attire. An ‘anti-dysphoria’ shield, if you will. Per usual, Maggie has taken it upon herself to pack sandwiches, one of which Peter is currently eating. Tucker sighs and walks to where Peter is sitting, snagging his own bag before seating himself beside the shorter boy. Peter scowls dramatically, “Why’re you next to me?!”
Maggie laughs and smacks his arm lightly, “Oh hush, boys.”
Though Peter pretends to despise her ‘motherly affection,’ Tucker knows he secretly likes it. At a sleepover Maggie had arranged (under the guise of a ‘girl’s night’ as far as her parents were concerned), Peter had confessed in the dead of night how much he cared for Maggie. Though Tucker wasn’t sure if his affections were romantic, he was now certain that – hypothetically - Peter would leap in front of train if it would save Maggie’s life.
Maggie, however, is most likely not concerned with any sort of romantic ideas toward Peter. It wasn’t that she didn’t care for him – she cares for him quite a great deal and would be beside herself if anything ever happened to him. No, Maggie is simply more preoccupied with being as rebellious as possible while she’s young. Despite her outwardly calm, benevolent exterior, Maggie is always once minute away from causing chaos.
She’s notorious for concocting wild adventures. Previous escapades with the boys included, ‘hiking through underground tunnels to get some exercise in!’ or ‘what’s the big fuss from you two about exploring this old abandon house? We can learn a lot from our on-hands exploration – history in the making!’ Tucker is convinced she’s an elderly woman magicked into a young woman. A witch, but the good kind. Her personality is magnetic; Peter objects the most while Tucker usually caves to her latest scheme, simply along for the ride.
Peter reacts to the light smack on his arm with a pout. Though exaggerated, Tucker detects a level of sincerity in the expression. He doesn’t seem to be feeling well; his hoodie is pulled up around his face despite the warm weather. This January is warm and wet, bare trees protruding from the muddy earth like bones from flesh. Global warming hangs like a heavy cloud over West Virginia. The gloomy sky hasn’t put even the slightest damper on Maggie’s mood. She wears a shit-eating grin which can only mean one thing – she’s hatched a plan for a new adventure.
The boys meet each other’s eyes, both coming to the same conclusion. Peter opens his mouth, ready to counter the insane proposal that Maggie is no doubt about to unveil to them. Before he can say a word, Tucker cuts him off, “So, what are you thinking?”
Peter’s head whips around, gaze shifting from Maggie to Tucker. He was thankful that he didn’t have laser vision; the angry glare he threw towards Tucker could have vaporized him on the spot.
“I’m thinking about that stupid homework Mr. Carlsberg assigned,” Peter butted in, as he tipped his head back to gaze up at the silver wings jutting into the periphery of his vision.
“Tucker,” Maggie ignored Peter, leaning forward to look past him.
Tucker follows suit and rests his elbows on his knees.
“Have you ever thought about this statue?”
The question throws Tucker off guard. He sits up straight, looking away from her. He remembers how he was once afraid of it, but now its just part of the background noise of Point Pleasant. In other words, he doesn’t think much of it. It’s the same modern artwork statue of Mothman that’s always been there. It would be here long after he’d moved away from the small town and it would remain once the next generation of high school students gathered beneath its wings.
“What if its real? I mean, who’s to say it isn’t? Anything is possible,”
She doesn’t say the ‘with God’ part, but her eyebrows lift to her hairline. Despite her far more progressive ideals than her parents, Maggie still believes in the Christian God. As she describes it, the image of God she believes in is far kinder than the one her parents envision.
WHAT WILL YOU DO?
>>Agree with her – anything is possible!