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Mothmask (6) : There are eyes in the darkness of every forest, staring at you. Between one blink and the next, they disappear, only to reappear somewhere in the trees. Sometimes it’s one, sometimes it’s many. The faces are almost human; you can see the hollow of the eye, a narrow nose, and an eerie, toothy grin. It’s inhuman–and terrifying. No matter where you go, there are always faces outside, watching you. No tree is safe. It feels like being followed by horrifying ghouls–and what’s with the strange, raspy laughter coming from the depths of the forest? Fear is a powerful tool, but maybe if you’re just a little brave you can get close enough to better see what monsters are stalking you. You can find dark moths with strange, humanesque features painted on their wings. They are roughly the size of a basketball and, upon close inspection, seem mostly harmless. Except, if you stay too close to them, the face on their wings change–to yours. The moths cannot be caught and will always fly away, fleeing into the darkness, but it’s still unnerving. Especially if other people start to see your face staring back at them from the darkness with that uncomfortable, raspy laughter.
Clutching her newest journal tightly, Bryn practically vibrated from sheer excitement. Finally. Finally she was in town and without other obligations to distract her from the weirdness that plagued Destiny City. She’d already brushed aside the Star Festival. She’d seen neither abnormally large cicadas nor murderous trees. And since she hadn’t really talked to anyone who’d directly experienced either, she didn’t feel right recording them.
But strange, ghostly faces? She’d heard many people discussing that. Always in the trees and always laughing. Bryn couldn’t wait to snoop about and see if she could experience it herself. Of course, because the world was cruel, it wouldn’t likely end up being something boring. But on the other hand, maybe it would be a genuine cryptid. The possibilities were breathtaking.
She’d taken a little tent and gone out on an impromptu camping trip in the woods. And now she sat with a tiny fire, journal in hand. Waiting.
Turning her attention to her fire, she carefully fed it twigs, grateful for the wooly blanket wrapped around her shoulders. On the edge of her vision, she saw a flicker and turned quickly to look. And there, in the darkness, was a pale, staring face, mouth gaping in an eerie smile. Bryn heard herself gasping as she startled and jumped back in her camp chair. The danger of tipping herself into her fire distracted her and she spent several moments righting herself and avoiding third degree burns. When she glanced back, the face had moved further into the darkness beyond her fire and a thin, rasping laughter seemed to echo out of the trees.
Heart racing, Bryn watched the face, feeling a gentle, creeping dread in her gut. This was real. And it was much creepier than she would have thought. Moving slowly and deliberately she stood up and moved towards the face. It seemed to jump again to another patch of the woods. Try as she could, Bryn couldn’t figure out how it moved so fast. But, as she moved further from her fire, she pulled her cell phone from her pocket and toggled the flashlight on. It would be very bad if she were to get lost. Fortunately, the face seemed content to remain still this time.
Moving closer, she swept her light up slowly, illuminating the gnarled and knotty tree trunks. As the little light reached a hollow between branches, she gasped again. Her floating face was a massive moth! It clung to the wood just out of reach, wings twitching gently. Getting as close as possible, Bryn stared up and took in as much as she could. Dark, except for the odd face markings on its wings (no wonder all anyone saw was pale, ghostly faces!) and bigger than any moth she’d ever seen. Part of her wished it wasn’t out of reach. She would have liked to poke it to see if it was fuzzy or not. Without a measuring tape, she would have to assume that it was roughly the size of a basketball. How simply fascinating!
Still moving slowly and carefully, she swept her light around, looking to see if there were others. When her moth proved to be the only one, she turned her full attention back to it. As she watched, the wing markings were seemingly morphing before her eyes. Curious, she watched, wide-eyed, as the face gradually morphed into her own. Jerking back in alarm, Bryn heard the odd laughter echo out of the forest, seeingly surrounding her. Finally, realizing that her phone could pull double duty, she fumbled to pull up the camera app, desperately needing a picture or video or something of this! Whatever this moth was, it was a genuine cryptid and a spooky open at that! All the meticulous notes in the world wouldn’t help if she didn’t have an image of some sort!
Getting the camera open and aimed at the moth, Bryn thought, for one beautiful, brilliant moment that she’d get a perfect shot. Then, just as she tapped the button, the moth, wings blazoned with her own face, flittered and flapped away rapidly. A glance at her screen showed the blurriest, most potato quality image of something dark with light patches that was vaguely moth shaped. Cursing in Icelandic, Bryn sighed and trudged back to her camp. Well. At least she could make notes and she still had a picture, however terrible.
It wasn’t much, but it was something.
Word Count = 747
