#mothman

As I sat with the phone in my hand, my heart in my throat and trying hard not to let it show in my voice, the deep growling tone that no human throat could make rang through the line, leaving me cold and goose-bumpy.

Oh, how I wished that I had never even thought to paint a cryptid. Damn Leslie!

"That is NOT how I look, Ms. Hardson!" an angry and indignant guttural growl sounded through the line.

My legs turned to water, and I was incredulous. "It was an artistic interpretation. And why do you care anyway? You're supposed to be an urban legend."

"I have an image to maintain, Ms. Hardson. It is VERY important to me that I maintain that image. I have worked very hard over many, many years to keep that image, and I won't have it belittled by anyone." That last word was laced with just enough menace to show sincerity.

"Belittled? How do you mean? You didn't like the way it was done? If you're critiquing my technique... well shove it then!" I went to hang up as I was now pissed. Turns out everybody is a critic!

"The technique is NOT my issue with your piece... I look like I'm a damned fairy at an opera!!!!" Now the voice just sounded crabby.

Oh.

"Oh... well, I'm sorry. I just needed a way to break up all of the black, so I put some red in a few different places. I didn't mean to disrespect you. Like I said, it is an artistic interpretation. Besides... it's a podunk art show in a podunk Midwest town. What do you care? And how did you even find it???"

A deep breath that sounded odd and not even remotely human came through the phone line.

"I keep up with whatever I am the subject matter of, be it literature, artwork, or cinema. #mothman was also a tip-off."

He let that sink in for a moment before proceeding.

"I would like to ask you kindly to take the piece down, from both the show and all social media."

I thought for a moment. The piece had been a hit for me. I had been floored by all of the people who hit up my online shop for T-shirts and notebooks and such... so taking it down was not going to go well for me.

"What if I just retitled it?"

"Absolutely not, Ms. Hardson. Get rid of it and burn it, or I can come pay you a little visit."

Back to menacing.

Oh boy, this clown was threatening me! I was scared, but I was also getting indignant. I get why he couldn't just pay me to take it down—what was to stop me from doing more and more just to juice money out of him—but this was just too far.

"Hey! Look, you might be a great and mighty urban legend, but you obviously have your bills all paid by Santa Claus! I DON'T!!! This piece is helping me pay my bills in a big way. I can retitle it, but that is as far as it goes! I didn't even want to do a cryptid piece as it was. God damn Leslie!!!!"

There was silence on the phone.

Then—

"Megan Hardson, college student at Mariposa Vista University, 1982 41st Street, Eagle Grove, born April 29th, 1991. Would you like me to give you your social security and driver's license numbers?"

I could almost hear him arching his eyebrow as he said all of this as dry as my Dad's Easter ham.

I swallowed the fear and pushed forward.

"OK, so you know where I live and a lot about me... does it say in there that I am broke too, or did you skip that little factoid?"

A pause.

"I see that you are set on this."

"Me? No, I'm not set on anything. I'm not the cryptid lover—Leslie is. I just need to pay my rent."

Another pause.

"This Leslie... she a friend of yours?"

"Yes, and no, you can't threaten to kill her to make me take it down."

A gasp.

"That IS NOT what I was going to say! ... Is she really into cryptids?"

"Leslie is all over cryptids. She does the research, has the plushies and the pins, reads the smut novels, and watches the shows. She can't get enough. She is a really awesome artist too. I really wish she would have entered this show, but she tends to feel insecure and get in her own way. We are all guilty of it from time to time, but she takes it to a whole other level. She is hella talented though. You should see her work."

I blathered it all before realizing what I was saying.

Then I facepalmed.

A very pregnant pause.

"Oh really... she likes the novels, huh?"

"Yeah, she just got done reading that one by Diana Price—Curse of the Honey Island Swamp Monster. She said it left a little to be desired though."

"It did. It really, really did."

This thing sounded so... normal just then.

It was unsettling.

"You read it?" I was trying hard to keep my voice from sounding too judgey.

But I mean, wow.

Mothman read supernatural smut novels.

Daaaaang.

If Leslie ever found out about this she was gonna lose her mind.

He cleared his throat.

"Yes. I do... So is this Leslie, your friend... pretty?"

OK, this was taking a weird turn.

"Uhhhhhhhhh, she is blonde and has green eyes... and I heard guys say that she has a sweet set of birthin' hips??? I don't know how to answer that."

"Oh really? How sweet?" an odd note crept into his voice.

I drew back and looked at the phone, completely incredulous.

Then decided to spill.

"She has wide hips and a bit of a ghetto booty."

"Really?!"

Damn, that was a lot of interest from a guy who was supposed to be a moth.

"Yeah. You seem awful interested in that for a dude who is actually a huge moth?"

Unsettled, creeped out... and things had gone from scary to weird in a heartbeat.

"I'm not a moth! I'm also a man! Part moth, part man!!"

He replied ever so tartly.

"So you are a were-moth?"

I was really confused... and weirded out.

"NO! Fuck were-moths! Bastards!!!! I'm not a goddamned were-moth!! I am a Mothman! If you must know, I'm a bit of a shapeshifter. I'm not always Mothman... actually, I'm just a man a good chunk of the time. I'm currently in my Mothman form, but I'm still a man."

He sounded somewhat sheepish and a little sulky.

"There are actual were-moths?????"

My eyebrows shot to my hairline.

This was getting more interesting than scary now.

"Yes, there are weremoths, and they are assholes!"

He sounded like he had had a few unpleasant run-ins with these were-moths.

Hmm.

"My mind has just been blown. I'm talking to the Mothman, there are were-moths... and you don't like my artwork."

The last came out sulkier than I intended it to.

Damn!

"No, actually I like your work. You have a very good style and are quite talented. I don't like your portrayal of me!"

He clarified.

"Thank you. And OK, that's fair."

I was mollified.

"So uh... is Leslie... single? By any chance?"

He was feigning disinterest and doing a poor job of it.

A terrible thought occurred to me.

"Oh my god! You want to impregnate her with your little moth babies!!!! Oh hell no! Not a chance in hell, bucko!!"

"No! What! No! I'm not... no!!! I would just like to take her out to dinner and maybe talk with her!!! Do you know how long it's been since I've been on an actual DATE? I just want to get to know her. No moth babies."

He sounded so innocent right then that I was about to cut him some slack—but I just needed to be sure first.

This was Leslie we were talking about.

We had been best friends since 2nd grade.

"Dinner, huh? She gonna be on the menu?"

I poured aggressive suspicion into my voice for effect.

"NO!!!!! The rumors of me eating people are all absolutely fake!!! I would never eat a person!!!! I'm actually mostly vegan."

Now he did sound like he was falling into despair.

I cut him some slack.

As it turns out, Mothman is not too bad of a guy—and he is super lonely.

Who knew?

"OK, if you promise no eating or impregnation... Leslie is so single it hurts! Which is super sad because she is one amazing girl. She is loyal, and smart, and funny. She works hard and is dedicated to her friends and family. She also happens to be a huge nerd and pretty traditional, which is a turn-off to most guys she knows. She has only had two boyfriends, and neither worked out. And the minute that guys find out that she would rather stay home and cook or read or watch TV than go clubbing and doesn't want to hop into bed on the first date... they don't want anything to do with her. Also, guys are dicks!"

The frustration that I felt watching her must have come through.

He cleared his throat.

"Are YOU single?"

I could hear the judgment.

"No. Ben and I have been dating for a while. It's just hard to watch Leslie get dicked over instead of dicked under, if you know what I mean. She is wonderful, and I wish a guy would realize that. But most just don't want to take the time to get to know her. She says it doesn't bother her, but I've seen how sad it makes her."

He took all of this in and seemed to consider.

"Does she use a dating site?"

I thought for a minute.

"Actually, yeah she does. It's called Cinder or Smolder or something. Hang on..."

He cut me off.

"I know the one. What is her handle?"

"SoShy91. But she hasn't had a message in months since the last one—Bruce—became a bad memory and a retail therapy trip."

"I'm messaging her now."

I could hear clicking... like claws on computer keys. An unpleasant shiver went down my spine, and I wondered if I was the worst friend in the world.

"She is on vacation with her family right now, so she may not respond." I warned him so he wouldn't be too disappointed.

Then I heard the ping.

"She just responded. I edited my profile and put down that one of my hobbies is cryptid research. I told her that I know you through your Mothman artwork and that I would like to see her work. We have a date on Friday when she gets back."

It almost sounded like he was adjusting his glasses... was that possible?

My jaw hung open.

"She is safe with you... right?"

"Yes, Megan. I will be a perfect gentleman. I intend to take her to a nice restaurant—Sarina's on 5th—and look at her artwork and chat with her about cryptids and such. Hopefully, we will like each other enough for a second date."

He sounded cautiously optimistic.

"Wait, Friday is three days away... how will you get here?"

Suspicion laced my tone.

He cleared his throat again.

"I will fly in tonight and get a hotel room. By Friday I should be back to my human shape and can then take your friend out to dinner."

"As in...?"

I really, really hoped he meant by plane.

"Yes, I will fly in my Mothman form. There are SOME perks that come with being a cryptid."

I heard the smile in his voice.

"Wow. I'm gonna go take a nap now. I'm done for the night. I'm also locking all of my windows and doors, just so you know."

He sighed.

"We will revisit the subject of your painting once I am in the same city as you. No, that is not a threat. However, the issue remains that I need to maintain a particular image for my safety, but I feel there can be a compromise."

I smiled.

"Kewl! I hope so. And I really hope the date goes well."

I genuinely did.

"Me too!" he sounded growly but... happy.

He hung up, and I was left staring at the phone in my hands.

What the hell had just happened?

I got threatened by an urban legend over my best-selling art piece... and now I just set him up on a date with my best friend.

Shy Leslie?!

Well, she DID love cryptids... and she read A LOT of cryptid and monster smut.

Maybe this would actually work out for her.

But did I tell her that her new date was MOTHMAN!?

If I told her, she might back out. If things went well and she got a boyfriend out of this, it would come out organically.

And I really wanted to see her happy.

Tell her. Don't tell her.

It ran in a loop in my head until I got a call from Leslie.

"Megan! Guess what???? I just got a date! HE is a part-time cryptid researcher... and he reads monster smut!!!! Oh my god I'm so excited!!!! You will NEVER guess his handle????"

She was over the moon. It was so good to hear her so happy.

"What is it, Lele?" I said it cautiously.

"#mothman...... isn't that awesome!!!!!!! And oh my god, he said that he knew your work and that's how he found me. Isn't this awesome!!! I TOLD you doing the cryptid pieces was going to be great!! You're making bank and I have a DATE!!!!"

She was so excited.

I decided that I would keep quiet.

I would, however, keep watch to make sure this dude didn't do anything inappropriate to my pal.

Time to call Ben and get some gear ready...

We were gonna keep an eye on my bestie while she had a date with Mothman!

...