The Mothman Prophecies Read Free Page A

there’s been a lot of flying saucer activity around here,” one of them remarked. She was taken aback. The bridge disaster had dominated everyone’s thoughts for the last week. Flying saucers were the furthest thing from her mind at that moment.
    â€œWe have had quite a few sightings here,” she responded, turning in her chair to pull open a filing cabinet. She hauled out a bulging folder filled with clippings of sighting reports and handed it to one of the men.
    He flipped it open, gave the pile of clippings a cursory glance, and handed it back.
    â€œHas anyone told you not to publish these reports?”
    She shook her head as she shoved the folder back into the drawer.
    â€œWhat would you do if someone did order you to stop writing about flying saucers?”
    â€œI’d tell them to go to hell,” she smiled wanly.
    The two men glanced at each other. She went back to her lists and when she looked up again they were gone.
    II.
    Later that same afternoon another stranger walked into Mrs. Hyre’s office. He was slightly built, about five feet seven inches tall, with black, piercing eyes and unruly black hair, as if he had had a brush cut and it was just growing back in. His complexion was even darker than that of the two previous visitors and he looked like a Korean or Oriental of some kind. His hands were especially unusual, she thought, with unduly long, tapering fingers. He wore a cheap-looking, ill-fitting black suit, slightly out of fashion, and his tie was knotted in an odd old-fashioned way. Strangely, he was not wearing an overcoat despite the fierce cold outside.
    â€œMy name is Jack Brown,” he announced in a hesitant manner. “I’m a UFO researcher.”
    â€œOh,” Mary pushed aside the pile of papers on her desk and studied him. The day was ending and she was ready to go home and try to get some sleep at last.
    After a brief, almost incoherent struggle to discuss UFO sightings Brown stammered, “What—would—what would you do—if someone ordered—ordered you to stop? To stop printing UFO stories?”
    â€œSay, are you with those two men who were here earlier?” she asked, surprised to hear the same weird question twice in one day.
    â€œNo. No—I’m alone. I’m a friend of Gray—Gray Barker.”
    Gray Barker of Clarksburg was West Virginia’s best-known UFO investigator. He had published a number of books on the subject and was a frequent visitor to Point Pleasant.
    â€œDo you know John Keel?”
    His face tightened. “I—I used to think—think the world of K—K—Keel. Then a few minutes ago I bought a—a magazine. He has an article in it. He says he’s seen UFOs himself. He’s—he’s a liar.”
    â€œI know he’s seen things,” Mary flared. “I’ve been with him when he saw them!”
    Brown smiled weakly at the success of his simple gambit.
    â€œCould you—take me out—t—t—take me where you—you and K—K—Keel saw—saw things?”
    â€œI’m not going to do anything except go home to bed,” Mary declared flatly.
    â€œIs K—K—Keel in P—P—Point Pleasant?”
    â€œNo. He lives in New York.”
    â€œI—I think he m—m—makes up all these stories.”
    â€œLook, I can give you the names of some of the people here who have seen things,” Mary said wearily. “You can talk to them and decide for yourself. But I just can’t escort you around.”
    â€œI’m a friend of G—G—Gray Barker,” he repeated lamely.
    Outside the office a massive crane creaked and rumbled, dragging a huge hunk of twisted steel out of the river.
    III.
    On April 22, 1897, an oblong machine with wings and lights “which appeared much brighter than electric lights” dropped out of the sky and landed on the farm near Rockland, Texas, owned by John M.