“I touched him.” I remembered the pin and felt for it at my collar, but it wasn’t there.
Fox held out his clenched hand and slowly uncurled his fingers. The pin—or what was left of it—sat there, looking like nothing more than bits of glass and gold.
“Did you…?”
“This was under your jacket when I found you.”
I sighed. “Good.”
I was starting to feel sleepy, my eyes heavy, the pain slipping away. “Mitch,” I said, remembering. “Is he okay? Did he save you? I asked him to save you.” Ooh. Floating. That was new.
“He did.” Color rose in Fox’s cheeks. “I froze. I remember seeing you, and seeing those cracks in the ceiling, and I couldn’t think, couldn’t move. Then the storm was inside instead of outside, and Mitch tackled me and dragged me out into the concourse. I kept trying to get back to you, and he wouldn’t let me. I might have said a couple of words I shouldn’t have.”
I was drifting, too far gone to answer. Suddenly the sky got a little closer as they raised my stretcher to its full height.
“You riding with us, kid?” the paramedic asked someone. Fox, apparently, because he nodded and followed along.
* * *
The next time I woke up, I was in a hospital bed with Dad resting in a chair next to me, his casted leg propped up on a stool. My eyes drifted to my own leg, cocooned in a pink cast and resting on a plump pillow. I stared at it, marveling at the lack of pain, wondering how long it would take to heal.
“We’re twins,” Dad’s voice said gently as he leaned over to kiss the top of my head. “How do you feel, honey?”
“I’m okay.”
He placed a small device in my hand. “If the pain gets bad, you push that button, okay? It’s medicine to help.”
“The good stuff, huh?”
“Yeah. The good stuff.” He closed his eyes, cleared his throat. “I’m so glad—” A tear dripped off the end of his nose, and then another. “I’m so glad that you’re okay, Josie Bug. I should have been there with you.”
“But we did it.”
“I know you did. You saved so many people. I’m so proud of you.”
The relief was so great I thought I might cry, but the tears wouldn’t come. “How much do you know?”
“Fox told me some things about Mothman and a curse that curled my toes. But I have a feeling he left a whole lot out.”
“Do people know what really happened?”
“Most think it was just a stroke of good luck that the power went out when it did, that people started to evacuate before the tornado hit.”
“But Mothman, the warnings—some people must suspect something weird.”
“Some do. The news is still giving him plenty of airtime, but most people are more concerned with the cleanup effort. Several of my customers sure think the world of you.” I looked around the room for the first time and noticed vases of flowers, balloon bouquets, and assorted stuffed animals. I nestled back into the pillows. “Where’s Fox and Mason? Are they okay?”
“I sent them down to the vending machines for a break. They’re pretty wiped out.”
“How about Mitch? He saved Fox, you know.”
Dad’s eyebrows lifted. “He did? Remind me to give him a raise, huh?”
“What about the town?” I said.
“The Field House took the worst of it. A few other buildings on campus were damaged, but luckily they were empty because of spring break. Most neighborhoods were spared, but several families lost their homes.”
“That’s so sad. What about—” Huh. Strange. Somehow my question didn’t seem nearly as important as closing my eyes at the moment.
“Want to sleep a little more?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay.” He kissed me again and struggled to his feet, reaching for his crutches.
He hobbled out. I lay very still, listening to my breath go in and out, staring at the perfectly intact and ordinary ceiling.
After a little while, the door opened and Fox crept in, carrying a cup of red Jell-O. I pretended to be asleep to see what he’d do.
He sat down in Dad’s empty chair and managed to sit still for maybe two whole minutes. Then he started tapping his feet on the floor and drumming his fingers on the arms of the chair. Two more minutes and he had the TV on as loud as it would go.
“Do you mind?” I said at last, turning my head to face him.
“I knew you weren’t asleep,” he said, switching on the overhead light. I squinted at him with as much venom as I could muster.
“What do you want?”
“Nothing. I just came to bring you some Jell-O.”
“You ate it.” The empty cup sat on the bedside table, a few red glops still clinging to the rim.
“I can get you another one.”
“Forget it.”
“So … how you feeling?” he said.
I shrugged. “Tired. Can’t feel much else.”
“That’s good.”
“Yeah.”
“Hey, Fox?”
“Yeah?”
Oh, good. Now the tears were starting. It took me three tries to get the words out through my traitorous throat.
“Thanks. For sticking by me. For everything.”
He looked away, embarrassed. “I didn’t do much. I wanted to burn down the Field House, remember? You were like … the Mothman whisperer. I’ve never seen anything so brave.”
“I messed up every step of the way. A lot of it was just dumb luck. I’ll never be like you.”
“Me? What are you talking about? Do you have any idea what you just did?” He jumped up and started pacing. “You saved thousands of people and brought down a curse that’s been around for more than a hundred years. Sure, you had some help. But people want to help you because you’re you. You’ve always been like that. You keep our crazy family from falling apart.”
“But Aunt Barb…” I said.
“No. You. When Momma died, I wasn’t sure if we’d be okay, but you … you’re the one who keeps us all sane. You don’t ever give up. You’re just as stubborn as she was. You even remind me of her sometimes.”
“I do?”
He picked up the empty Jell-O cup and rolled it around in his hands. “You should talk to Dad about this stuff, or Aunt Barb, or, I don’t know, a therapist. You’re not supposed to burden your little brother with meaning-of-life stuff.”
“I’m sorry.”
He sighed dramatically. “I guess if I’m not permanently scarred by Mothman or by narrowly escaping a natural disaster, then I’ll survive.”
“Hey, Fox?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you miss her?”
“Of course I do. Every single day.” He cleared his throat. After a few awkward seconds, the cocky smile was back on his face. “So you wouldn’t believe all the media types in Athens right now. Think of the money we could make selling our story to the tabloids. Maybe even a book deal.” He gave a happy sigh.
“Forget it. There’s no way we’re using this to make money, you con artist.”
He looked offended. “You’ve gotten awfully bossy lately. What’s up with that?”
I closed my eyes and smiled. “I’m older.”
* * *
Uncle Bill came home that same day. Mitch withdrew his statement and the police dropped all the charges. It probably helped that everyone was so relieved about escaping the tornado that they forgot to be upset about the vandalism. A few witnesses and die-hard believers gave interviews, wrote letters to the editor, and camped out in the cow pasture for weeks waiting for Mothman’s return. But most people convinced themselves the sightings had been a skillful hoax or mass delusion.
Mothman himself had disappeared. The remains of the pin were scattered in the wreckage of the Field House.
Every penny from the Goodrich auction—including Dad’s thirty percent—went toward helping the town rebuild after the tornado.
A few months went by. We were glad to move on.
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As a family treat, we loaded up the car and spent a week in Columbus at the state fair. There was still the matter of a junior bid call competition to see to.
Fox, of course, won the whole thing.
We walked around the fairgrounds afterward, browsing the flea market for cheap trinkets Fox could add to his haunted auctions. Fox carried his trophy around like a baby, bragging to anyone misguided enough to ask about it.
Mason clutched a cloud of cotton candy on a paper cone, leaving a sticky trail on everything he touched. A ring of blue sugar outlined his mile-wide grin.
Dad lugged around the giant stuffed dog that I won all on my own, playing ring toss.
In honor of Momma, Aunt Barb entered apricot jam in the fair and won first prize. She glowed with a pride to rival Fox’s own. She and Uncle Bill held hands as they sampled fried Oreos and elephant ears from the snack vendors.
We stopped at a table filled with old skeleton keys, circus posters, and things in jars I didn’t dare look at too closely. Fox picked up a huge, old magnifying glass, the bone handle carved with delicate flowers and twisting vines.
The stall owner raised an eyebrow at Fox’s choice. “Ah, now, that’s a special piece, not for the faint of heart.” He dropped his voice to a tantalizing whisper. “That piece there, my boy, is haunted.”
I groaned and Fox grinned, green eyes agleam. “You don’t say.”
AUTHOR’S NOTE
When I first started writing Josie and Fox’s story, I knew I wanted it to be set at an auction house in Athens, Ohio. But I didn’t know it would focus on the Mothman legend until a well-timed trip to the library. I went searching for books on ghosts and other supernatural creatures. There, on a display right by the front desk, was John A. Keel’s The Mothman Prophecies. As soon as I started reading, I knew Mothman was the monster for me, especially when I learned that the town where he became famous—Point Pleasant, West Virginia—was just forty miles from Athens.
Opinions vary on when the first official Mothman sighting took place, but the first one to make the newspaper happened on November 15, 1966. Two couples driving near an abandoned explosives plant reported seeing a man with wings and fiery red eyes who took flight and chased their car at speeds close to 100 miles per hour.
The headline in the November 16 Point Pleasant Register read: COUPLES SEE MAN-SIZED BIRD … CREATURE … SOMETHING. Forty miles away, the Athens Messenger reported: WINGED, RED-EYED ‘THING’ CHASES POINT COUPLES ACROSS COUNTRYSIDE.
The story spread, and the number of sightings swelled. People from all over the country traveled to Point Pleasant, hoping to spot the mysterious creature. Some sources claimed that Mothman appeared a hundred times or more over the next thirteen months. Others said the culprit was actually a large, red-crested bird called the sandhill crane. And, of course, hoaxes probably played a role. One of the more creative tricks I read about involved pranksters tying red flashlights to helium balloons.
Mothman earned his name from a reporter who compared him to a character from the 1960s Batman television series. Eyewitnesses didn’t always agree on what Mothman looked like, but the most common traits were red eyes, leathery wings, and a height of seven to nine feet.
Mothman sightings had been tapering off by December 15, 1967, when the Silver Bridge, connecting Point Pleasant, West Virginia, and Kanauga, Ohio, collapsed during rush hour traffic, killing forty-six people. The link between the disaster and the sightings was first suggested by Gray Barker in his 1970 book, The Silver Bridge. Mothman gained a reputation as an unlucky omen—a promise of bad things to come. Did Mothman cause the tragedy? Or had he been trying to send a warning? Speculation swirled and the legend grew.
Mothman is a relative newcomer to American folklore, earning a place among legendary creatures such as Sasquatch and the Jersey Devil. His real moment in the spotlight came with the 2002 movie The Mothman Prophecies, based on John Keel’s 1975 book. Because Mothman’s origins are largely unexplored, I had the chance to create a backstory for him, shaping his role in the modern-day tale of three kids, a gold stickpin, and a deadly curse. I imagined that he had once been a man, someone who abandoned his humanity in favor of a twisted experiment to prove that there are no selfless people in the world. Thankfully, the Fletcher kids are there to set him straight. The pin and curse are my own inventions, though I do own a real moth stickpin that served as a handy (and creepy) source of inspiration. I also dreamed up the OU Field House (or at least this particular version of it) and the ill-fated town of Clark, Ohio, for my own nefarious purposes.
Point Pleasant has embraced the legend as its own. The town now hosts the Mothman Festival every September, and is home to a Mothman museum and a life-size Mothman statue.
If you’d like to know more about Mothman, check out these books, papers, and websites:
The Mothman Prophecies, by John Keel (Tor Books, 2013).
“How and Why Did the Mothman Come into Being?,” Andrew Jay Harvey, www.academia.edu/542721/How_and_why_did_the_Mothman_come_into_being.
“The Mothman: A Folkloric Perspective,” Corey J. Chimko, www.coreychimko.com/The_Mothman_A_Folkloric_Perspective.pdf.
“American Hauntings,” prairieghosts.com.
“Mysterious Universe,” mysteriousuniverse.org/?s=mothman.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thank you to Bryce, Nathan, Cam, and Nat for your incredible patience, love, and encouraging words.
Thank you to Ammi-Joan Paquette for taking a chance on me. Your gentle guidance has helped me to gain confidence, learn resilience, and witness firsthand the value of hard work.
Huge thanks to super editor Katherine Jacobs for urging Josie, Fox, and Mason to solve their own problems. They are better people because of it.
Thanks to the talented writers at EMU’s Debuts for their unconditional support and permission to be vulnerable.
And thank you to Michael O. Tunnell, whose class many years ago helped me find my way back to children’s literature. I owe him big-time.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Christine Hayes grew up loving stories about the creatures that curl your toes, and the legends that send a shiver down your spine. Now she loves writing about them, too. She lives in Utah with her family, her dog Chewie, and a collection of vintage finds that hopefully are not cursed. You can sign up for email updates here.
James K. Hindle is an illustrator and designer. He lives in Western Massachusetts. You can sign up for email updates here.
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CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
Author’s Note
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Copyright
Text copyright © 2015 by Christine Hayes
Illustrations copyright © 2015 by James Hindle
Published by Roaring Brook Press
Roaring Brook Press is a division of Holtzbrinck Publishing Holdings Limited Partnership
175 Fifth Avenue, New York, New York 10010
mackids.com
All rights reserved
eBooks may be purchased for business or promotional use. For information on bulk purchases, plea
se contact Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department by writing to [email protected].
The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:
Hayes, Christine, 1972–
Mothman’s curse / Christine Hayes; illustrated by James Hindle. — First edition.
pages cm
Summary: “When Josie and her brother Fox discover the truth behind the legend of the Mothman, they must stop a disaster in order to break the curse that has been afflicting their town”—Provided by publisher.
ISBN 978-1-62672-027-5 (hardback) — ISBN 978-1-62672-028-2 (e-book)
[1. Mothman—Fiction. 2. Blessing and cursing—Fiction. 3. Supernatural—Fiction. 4. Brothers and sisters—Fiction. 5. Single-parent families—Fiction. 6. Family life—Ohio—Fiction. 7. Ohio—Fiction. 8. Horror stories.] I. Hindle, James K., illustrator. II. Title.
PZ7.1.H394Mot 2015
[Fic]—dc23
2014047412
eISBN 9781626720282
First hardcover edition, 2015
eBook edition, May 2015
Mothman's Curse Page 19