Sightings - Mothman Prophecies: West Virginia, 1967

Episode Date: January 20, 2025

When a quiet town reports sightings of a massive winged creature with glowing red eyes, most dismiss it as hysteria. But as encounters multiply and a prophecy emerges, could this mysterious visitor be warning of something far worse to come? Sightings is a REVERB and QCODE Original. Find us on instagram @sightingspod Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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Ontario only. Please play responsibly. If you have any questions or concerns about your gambling or someone close to you, please contact Connex Ontario at 1-866-531-2600 to speak to an advisor free of charge. BetMGM operates pursuant to an operating agreement with iGaming Ontario. We all look to the skies in times of trouble, searching for signs, for answers, for hope.

But what happens when something looks back? When sightings of a strange creature consume a small American town just before disaster strikes, people wonder if those haunting red eyes were watching them or warning them. Because sometimes the bearer of bad news isn't just a messenger. It may be something far more terrifying, and it's already too late to look away. Welcome to Sightings, the series that takes you inside the world's most mysterious supernatural events. Each week we bring you a thrilling story that puts you at the center of the action, followed by a discussion that dives into the accounts that inspire the story and our takes on them.

I'm McCloud. And I'm Brian. And we're finally tackling one of the world's most perplexing supernatural mysteries, the Mothman sightings of Point Pleasant, West Virginia, in 1967. So prepare yourself for eerie premonitions, strange lights in the sky, and a creature so terrifying that you're gonna wish you had a bigger flyswatter. A much, much bigger one. All that and more on thisrell Partridge's farm.

He'd been sitting alone in his living room watching television when the picture started acting up. Static at first, just interference, but then something else. A high-pitched whine that seemed to drill straight into his skull. The sound grew louder, higher, until he had to clamp his hands over his ears. His German shepherd, Bandit, started going crazy at the front door, not just barking, but howling like something was trying to tear his soul out. Before Merle could even reach for the TV controls, the screen exploded. Glass and tube powder showered across his living room floor and plunged the house into darkness. Even stranger, the entire house and surrounding environs went fully silent. No insects,

no wind, anything. So Merle grabbed a flashlight and headed outside as Bandit raced ahead toward the wellhouse at the edge of the property. The light beam caught the dog as he rounded the corner of the building, but as soon as he was out of view, the barking halted, like the dog had been stopped dead in its tracks. And that's when Merle saw them. Two red lights floating 15 feet off the ground above the wellhouse. Not electric lights, nor reflectors. Instead these had depth to them, like burning coals but colder somehow, like eyes, almost, and they were looking right at him. Everything after that felt like a dream to Merle. An overwhelming urge to go back inside washed over him. His legs carried him back to the house while his mind screamed at him to look for Bandit.

He walked straight upstairs, still fully dressed, and fell into the deepest sleep of his life. And when he woke up, Bandit was gone. Not in the house, not on the farm, not in the woods on the far side of the fences. It was like something had just plucked the dog right off the face of the earth. My name is Fred Devereaux and I'm a reporter for the Athens Messenger, a regional paper with an office in my hometown, Point Pleasant, West Virginia. It's a quiet place, right at the confluence of the Ohio and Kanawha rivers with a population of 6,000.

The kind of place where nothing unusual happened. Where nothing happened, frankly. At least until Merle Partridge rushed into my office to recount his fantastical yarn. Granted, strange stories about mysterious lights and missing dogs weren't my cup of tea. I'd spent a dozen years in Pittsburgh writing for the Post Gazette, covering city council meetings and labor disputes, and I hadn't wanted to leave, but when Mom had her stroke there wasn't much choice. So I swallowed my pride, took a job under Mary Hyre at the messenger, and told myself it was temporary, just until Mom got better. So, that morning, watching Murl's hands shake as he recounted his story, I wrote it all

down. Not because I believed him, but because that's what journalists did. We documented. We recorded. Even if Mary would probably kill the story the moment I handed it to her, which of course she did. But three days later everything changed, and suddenly Murl Partridge's missing dog became a whole lot more important.

I was pulling a late shift at the police station, hoping to catch something newsworthy when four kids burst through the door looking like they'd seen the devil himself. They were two young couples I didn't know, Roger and Linda Scarberry and Steve and Mary Mallet, and God they looked a mess. Linda was crying so hard she had black rivers down her cheeks and Roger was shaking like a man with palsy. They said they'd been out near the old TNT area where they saw something standing by the road, at least seven feet tall and gray-colored with huge wings folded against its back. It sounded impossible, frankly, and I was inclined

to chalk it all up to hysteria until they mentioned the eyes, bright red, glowing like reflectors, but with that same cold depth that Merle had talked about, and when they tried to drive away the creature flew after them, chasing them down the road. Even though their story sounded, well, fanciful, to say the least, Deputy Halstead decided he ought to check out the old TNT area for himself. And when he asked if anyone wanted to ride along, I didn't hesitate. This was either going to be the story of the century or the quickest way to prove it was all nonsense. The TNT area, this old tract of abandoned World War II munitions bunkers, it was pitch black that night, and I'm not being hyperbolic, it was truly the kind of dark that seemed to swallow our headlights

whole. So as we drove slowly past the old concrete storage bunkers, I couldn't help thinking their rounded shapes looked like massive tombstones in the gloom. But when we realized we wouldn't see much of anything from the car, we grabbed our flashlights and split up on foot. I won't lie and say it wasn't creepy out there in that darkness, but I truly didn't expect to find anything at all except some abandoned beer cans. So imagine my surprise when I rounded a dark corner and my flashlight caught something crumpled in a heap in the distance. A dark shape about the size of a German Shepherd.

I immediately, spawning, called for Hallstead, and I saw his flashlight beam waving as he ran my way. But when I turned my own beam back to where I'd seen the crumpled shape, I was shocked to discover that it had up and vanished. Had my eyes been playing tricks on me? Because I swore I'd seen it, swore it. Now, back in the cruiser, Hallstead suggested

maybe I'd fallen prey to some trick of the eye. And perhaps so had those kids. That, or they'd seen some kind of giant bird. There were sometimes huge sandhill cranes in the area, after all, and in the dark. Who knows? So Halstead reached for the radio to call in our findings, but as soon as he touched it, the car filled with a horrific sound unlike any I'd ever heard. Not static or interference, but a high-pitched shriek that felt like it was trying to drill straight through my skull. And I don't know how else to explain it other than to say it felt

alive. Of course Hallstatt immediately yanked his hand back and the sound cut off instantly. We both looked around, trying to find the source of the fright, but saw nothing at all. So we drove back to the station in silence, neither of us willing or able to discuss what just happened. The next morning I tried to convince Mary to run the story of the kids sighting, but she was hesitant. Point Pleasant was a serious town with serious problems, and the last thing we needed was to become known as a place that cried monster. But more calls started coming in. A couple outside Klendenen saw something huge flying between the trees. A farmer in Mason County spotted a gray figure with red eyes standing in his barn,

and the sightings kept piling up until, a couple days later, Halstead decided to call a press conference. I was there taking notes as Halstead addressed the smattering of reporters and onlookers about the recent sightings. There was a buzz in the air. I could see it on the faces in the crowd, because even if it was, as yet, unexplainable, whatever was happening here in Point Pleasant was undoubtedly exciting. So much so that even I was starting to get caught up in it.

So when a reporter asked Halstead what everyone was supposed to call this mysterious thing, I spoke up without even thinking. I'd been reading a lot of Batman comics lately and something about those wings and red eyes popped a name to the forefront of my mind. I suggested we call it Mothman. More sightings followed, including one from a quiet woman named Marcella Bennett who claimed she'd seen the Mothman up close and personal. The night before, she said she'd been visiting her sister when she saw it standing in the yard, and it startled her so much she fell to the ground, but all she could focus on were those

red eyes burning into her soul. But before she could even snap out of it, the thing rose up from the ground like a helicopter, not even flapping its wings, and disappeared into the night. When I spoke to Marcella myself, the first thing I noticed about her was her own eyes. They were bloodshot, irritated, and red. Almost like she'd been staring at the sun. And she wasn't the only one, either. Almost everyone who said they'd seen those cold red eyes up close had the same condition. I still didn't believe it, though. Not any of it.

Because there had to be a rational explanation. There always was. of it, because there had to be a rational explanation. There always was. Be it a sand hill crane, or cascading panic, or something else that's so dead simple that you knock yourself on your head once you realize it was right in front of you all along. So after dinner I drove out to the TNT area with a flashlight, camera, and sleeping bag. I'd hunker down for the night and prove once and for all that this was nothing more than a case of mass hysteria. Problem was, as soon as I got there, I immediately noticed the air felt heavy. Electric.

Wrong. Surely I wouldn't get swept up in all this hoopla, too. So I shrugged it off and made my way to a spot at the top one of the bunkers and settled in. I turned off my flashlight and scanned the horizon until my night vision set in. But after a few hours I started growing weary because I'd seen nothing at all. Nothing except for a few onlookers who'd read the news and wanted to catch a glimpse of this moth man for themselves. But they left quickly and I soon found myself alone in the dark again. That is until I heard it. A distant flutter, like massive wings cutting through the air.

Too afraid to turn on my flashlight, I scanned the darkness, trying to spot anything with my naked eyes. But there was nothing out there aside from that flutter, which sounded almost like it was coming from everywhere and nowhere all at once. Finally, I decided to turn on my flashlight. The beam scanned the horizon in front of me, revealing nothing unusual. But then I heard that flutter, this time directly behind me, so I spun and my beam hit something solid. A massive gray shape hovered a dozen feet away from me, a shadowy mass flanked by huge wings that looked eerily static and unmoving. And I wish I could

say I stuck around to glean more details, but I panicked and ran fast as I could back to my car, fumbling with my keys as something moved in the dark behind me. Soon my engine roared to life and I peeled out of the TNT area as fast as I could, but I wasn't alone. In my rear-view mirror, I saw that winged shape rise up over the trees, moving like no living creature I'd ever seen. And then the thing started to chase me. I hit 90 miles per hour on that narrow road, but the thing kept up effortlessly swooping

back and forth over my car. No bird could fly like that, no crane. Then I saw those glowing red eyes right outside my window, keeping perfect pace with the car as it rose up and slammed into my roof with enough force to make everything shudder. But then, just as suddenly as it appeared, it was gone. I pulled over, shaking, and when I finally mustered the nerve to step out of my car I found long gashes in the metal roof. If I didn't know better I'd say they looked like claw marks, but bigger than any animal I'd ever seen before. And as I stood

there alone in the dark on that remote road, I realized I had proof that the Mothman was impossibly real. And the honest truth is, I'd never been more terrified in my entire life. VET MGM, authorized gaming partner of the NBA, has your back all season long. From tip-off to the final buzzer, you're always taken care of with a sportsbook born in Vegas. That's a feeling you can only get with BetMGM, and no matter your team, your favorite player, or your style, there's something every NBA fan will

love about BetMGM. Download the app today and discover why BetMGM is your basketball home for the season. Raise your game to the next level this year with BetMGM, a sportsbook worth a slam dunk and authorized gaming partner of the NBA. BetMGM.com for terms and conditions. Must be 19 years of age or older to wager. Ontario only. Please play responsibly. If you have any questions or concerns about your gambling or someone close to you, please contact Connex Ontario at

1-866-531-2600 to speak to an advisor free of charge. VET-MGM operates pursuant to an operating agreement with iGaming Ontario. After my encounter at the TNT area, the Mothman sightings began to slow. But something else was happening in Point Pleasant, something that made me question whether the winged terror had been just the beginning of whatever darkness had descended on our town. In the weeks that followed my up-close encounter with that creature, people began seeing something else in the skies over Point Pleasant.

It started with occasional sightings of odd shimmers in the distance but rapidly progressed, so much so that my desk at the messenger was soon flooded with accounts from reliable witnesses. The manager of the Ben Franklin store reported three glowing spheres hovering above his parking lot, and two police officers watched a bright light split into four parts, each shooting off in different directions at impossible speeds. I even saw them myself one evening while driving home. I was crossing the Silver Bridge, the massive steel behemoth that spanned the Ohio River from the center of town, and I noticed two brilliant lights swooping past the huge support towers.

And I wasn't the only one. The car in front of me nearly slammed into the median at the site. But it didn't stop at strange lights, because soon strange visitors started showing up in town. They looked almost normal at first glance, men in dark suits and hats like insurance salesmen or government agents. But something was undeniably off about them. They moved wrong, spoke wrong, their clothes never seemed to wrinkle, and their shoes, despite the winter mud and slush,

stayed impossibly clean. One afternoon I spotted two of them interrogating Marcella Bennett outside the grocery store, and indeed they stood too close together, their movements mechanical and stiff. Later Marcella told me that their skin had looked like plastic, and their eyes never blinked, not once. These men in black, as we began calling them, turned up everywhere. They'd appear at witnesses' homes unannounced, asking strange questions about the lights. They drove large, dark cars that always appeared spotlessly clean despite the winter weather,

and always silent despite their massive engines, and more than one witness reported seeing these vehicles simply vanish into thin air. There one moment and gone the next. But nothing. Not the Mothman, not the lights in the sky, not even those plastic-faced men in black, could prepare me for the hitchhiker. I was working late at the messenger office one night, typing up yet another account of strange lights over the river when the man walked in. He couldn't have been more than five feet tall, with a peculiar bowl cut and thick glasses that magnified his eyes to an unsettling degree. And despite the freezing December weather,

he wore only a thin blue shirt and matching pants. No coat, no hat, no protection against the bitter cold at all. He said he had hitchhiked down from Michigan and asked me for directions to a nearby town, but something about his voice made my skin crawl. It was too low, too measured, like someone trying to remember how human speech worked. And as he talked, he kept inching closer to my desk with these jerky, artificial movements. Then he spotted my pen and picked it up, turning it over and over in his hands like he'd never seen one before suddenly letting out a shrieking, inhuman laugh that left me chilled.

Then he bolted from the office, and when I ran outside after him I saw him climb into a massive black car that peeled away without a sound. That night I had trouble sleeping. Not because of the man, but because of the dreams. They started as fragmented visions of dark water, floating debris, and just this sense of overwhelming dread that followed me into my waking hours. But as the nights progressed, the dreams got worse and shifted into outright nightmares. I'd see presence drifting in black water, hear splashing and desperate gasps for air. Sometimes I'd even wake up choking, my lungs burning as if I'd actually been submerged in frigid water. I soon learned I wasn't alone in my experience, because Mary Heyer told me she was having similar dreams.

Visions of chaos and water and death. Something was coming, it seemed. Like a storm building just over the horizon. Things came to a head in mid-December. I'd just taken a sleeping pill hoping to finally have one restful night's sleep, and indeed I quickly drifted off into deep slumber. But soon enough, I'd have my most vivid nightmare yet. I was standing on the silver bridge in a snowstorm, but the snow wasn't white. It was black, like ash from some terrible fire. Below me the Ohio River was full of thrashing bodies, their faces blue with cold

as they fought against the current. Christmas presents drifted past them, a child's bicycle still wrapped in cheerful paper, a doll in a partially opened box, its plastic eyes staring lifelessly at the sky. I tried to help, tried to reach the drowning people below, but all I could do was watch as they slipped beneath the dark water one by one. And before I could even process what was happening, I found myself right there in the river beside them, thrashing and gasping and trying to stay afloat as ice flooded my veins. I woke up screaming, drenched in sweat. And as I looked around trying to regain my bearings I noticed movement outside my window. A shadow far too big to be normal. So I grabbed a

flashlight and ran downstairs, barely able to breathe. And though the winter air hit me like a brick wall I crunched across the snow in my bare feet, determined to find out what I'd seen. But my beam caught nothing but bare trees and desolate darkness. Frustrated, I turned to go back inside when I heard a subtle shift of weight above me, so I froze in place and turned slowly, raising the flashlight with trembling hands. And there he was, the Mothman. It was perched on my roof with massive wings folded against its back like some terrible angel. Those cold red eyes stared down at me, but this time they held something I hadn't seen before.

Not menace, but what I could only describe as sorrow. But before I could move or speak, it spread those impossible wings and shot straight up into the night sky, climbing faster than any living thing should be able to move. Within seconds it had vanished, swallowed by the darkness above. But its eyes stayed with me, seared in my brain like they were trying to tell me something. But what? something. But what? The next day was December 15th, 1967, and the Christmas shopping rush had Downtown Point Pleasant packed with cars and pedestrians. As I walked among the festivities taken in

by the holiday cheer, I thought that maybe, just maybe there was hope for some semblance of normal returning to this town. But I thought too soon, because a booming screech of twisting metal interrupted the calm. People screamed and pointed and I turned to see the entire silver bridge swaying unsteadily. Then the support cables began to snap one by one, each sending a shower of sparks into the icy water below. And then, with a roar that of sparks into the icy water below. And then, with a roar that seemed to shake the whole world, the bridge began to collapse. I watched in horror as cars tumbled into the freezing river, their headlights still burning as they sank into the black water.

It was just like my nightmare. The splashing, the gasping, the chaos. One woman surfaced near the bank, clawing desperately at the air before the current pulled her under. Somewhere a child was screaming for their mother and amid it all freshly wrapped Christmas packages bobbed in the water, marking the sinister spots where entire families had gone under. I tried to help.

We all did. But the water was so cold and dark. And by the time rescue crews arrived, it was too late for most of them. Forty-six people died that day, including two bodies that were never found, lost forever in those dark waters of the Ohio River. The official investigation blamed a faulty suspension chain. But those of us who lived through it, who saw the Mothman and had the dreams, we knew there was more to it than metal fatigue. Had the creature been trying to warn us? Were the dreams some kind of prophecy we

failed to understand? And how did the strange lights and mysterious visitors fit into everything? How did the strange lights and mysterious visitors fit into everything? Even now I still can't make sense of it all, and I'm not sure I ever will. All I know is the Mothman hasn't been seen again and point pleasant since the disaster. At least not yet, because there's always more tragedies waiting in this world. Perhaps that sounds morbid, I know, but I'm a reporter. I've seen more tragedy and mystery than I could possibly recount. But I'll tell you one thing I know for certain. If I ever see those cold red eyes again, I'll pay closer attention to what they're trying to tell me.

Sightings will be back just after this. Welcome back, everybody. This is a really cool story. I have to admit, I don't really know much about the Mothman prophecies other than that movie with Richard Gere and Deborah Messing that I saw ages ago whenever that came out. The coolest thing to me is you've got this interesting mixture of various supernatural events. You've got a creature who who knows what that is, whether it's alien, demonic, angelic, who knows.

You've got dreams, shared dreams amongst a population. And then you've got kind of spooks, you've got men in black wandering around. And then you've got this prophecy, there's so many different things that don't really cleave to any real specific lore. It's just a really unique, massive story that I'm really looking forward to learning more about. And I hope you are too.

So hit us, Brian. Yeah, all the stuff that was in the story happened in Point Pleasant, West Virginia in 1966 and 1967. And like you said, it was kind of a grab bag of supernatural stuff. It's like, what's gonna happen today? I can only imagine what it was like for these people. Right.

Were there actually that many witnesses as it seems? Like a whole town of witnesses? Essentially, yeah. Multiple people over multiple months were seeing weird stuff, reporting it to the police. There were lots of newspaper articles about this. So the journalist, speaking of newspaper articles, was he real? The guy that I pretended to be? He was kind of a composite.

So the head of the newspaper in Point Pleasant was a woman named Mary Heyer. And she was kind of tangential to some of these events. But I wanted to kind of give you a guy to read who could put himself at the center of the action a little bit more. So I gave him some stories from some of the other witnesses and things like that. But like I said, all of the events themselves actually happened, just not necessarily to

this guy. Woo. So how do we know about this? Where is the compendium of witness testimony, if that's the right word, compendium. Yeah, well, the British collapse obviously happened. That was national news. That was a big thing. Forty-four people died in that, and that's verified.

But the more supernatural parts of it, like I said, there's some newspaper articles about it, but most of the kind of juicy supernatural stuff like the men in black and things like that were compiled by this journalist named John Keele who wrote the book The Mothman Prophecies. And just for context, John Keele was a paranormal investigator. He was writing about UFOs at the time. He read some articles about people seeing this crazy creature in the TNT area in Point Pleasant and flew out there and just spent months interviewing people, tracking down leads, even encountering some of these men in black for himself.

In this case though, there are a lot of, this isn't just one guy told this story or he just wrote this book like we've seen in some other things. There are lots of newspaper reports, there are lots of verified sightings all over the place regarding this. It was just a hive of activity at the time. All starting in 1966 with Merle Partridge who started the story. He was that farmer who lost his dog. Right. That actually happened.

Oh, no. From there, it just kept spiraling basically. What was cool about these sightings that were happening all over Point Pleasant was that they were really consistent. And now we're talking about the actual creature now, right? Yes. So if you remember from the story,

it kind of starts where people start seeing Mothman everywhere and then Mothman kind of vanishes for a little while. And then they start seeing UFOs and these men in black and these weird people showing up like that hitchhiker guy. And then Mothman shows up a few more times and then the bridge collapses. That's kind of the general narrative there. I mean, with all these kind of different things and the sequence of events, on one hand, I could say like, well, that sounds suspicious to me that there's this, but then there's also this, but then there's also a UFO, but then there's... but my my story telling

brain starts going like, well clearly you've got this Mothman creature who's on the lam, who's on the run from some sort of space authorities, and he's being chased by the aliens and they're using, they're pretending to be FBI agents or something to try and track him down, but he's trying to warn everybody that this event, like he's the good guy and he's being chased by the system, the intergalactic system or whatever. That is a theory I've never heard before. I I really dig it, because it actually works for this. And it makes Point Pleasant kind of just this hapless population of people who happen to be thrust into this intergalactic event, basically. But related to these UFO sightings and this Men in Black, there was a lot of stuff that

I just couldn't put in the story, because like we've been talking about, there was just so much happening all over the place with this story. Right. But finding ways that they all connect potentially to the bridge collapse is tricky. And maybe they're not directly connected. It's not about the bridge collapse, but the bridge collapse is such a big scary event that we immediately assume, well, that's the point of all this or that's the culmination of all this.

Absolutely. But maybe it was just a side effect of all this. That's entirely possible. Let's talk about the bridge real quick though. So this bridge was, it's Silver Bridge, built in 1927. It spanned the Ohio River between Point Pleasant and Gallipolis, Ohio. And when it collapsed, it really collapsed. 37 cars and trucks fell into the river, 44 people died.

Horrible. It was the worst road bridge disaster in US history at the time. And they did all their analysis, the NTSB and all that stuff figured out what happened. And one of the suspension chains in the bridge had apparently been problematic since it was made and forged in 1926.

And it just happened to give way finally in 1967. I think that the reason that people think that the Mothman is somehow connected is, well, number one, people were having those dreams. Right. You know, they were seeing the Mothman and then having these very premonition-type dreams about the bridge, about the presence floating in the water,

about people screaming, things like that, which must have been unsettling to these people. But the other little factoid is once the bridge collapsed, there were a few unverified sightings, apparently, of the Mothman after that, but the sightings largely just stopped entirely and that was it. No one really saw him in a verified way ever again, in Point Pleasant at least. Gosh, it's so dramatic and climactic.

Yeah, I think the question is lingering in my mind and we've kind of bounced around it because there's this whole constellation of weird supernatural stuff. But related to the Mothman and the bridge collapse and the dreams, was it all just a coincidence in your mind? Or was the Mothman a harbinger of doom, so to speak? Well, I think as you reminded me of the dreams all having to do with the bridge, I think you can't say it's a coincidence. And the fact that the sightings all stop immediately or shortly after it. My question then is, why is the Mothman not being a little more direct about it?

I feel like just appearing over people's barns or chasing their cars or just flashing his red eyes at them isn't necessarily saying anything. Maybe he could only communicate telepathically or something like that, and the dreams were his means of communicating. I love it when there's sort of a cultural or communication obstacle between extraterrestrials and humans and stories and accounts, like, because I find that very credible, that there's

just how do I talk to these creatures? It's like, how do you talk to a squirrel? Not necessarily assuming that we're of lesser intelligence, but like, if the modes of communication, like you said, if he only communicates telepathy, then yeah, that makes total sense that the dreams are the manifestation of the best way he can communicate to a creature that does not have the same physical equipment.

Interesting. And so the one thing sticking with me is this bridge and why this bridge? It's interesting you say that because the Mothman disappeared from Point Pleasant in 1967, but he has been seen in other parts of the world since. Wow. There are some conspiracy theorists who believe that he was seen. And of course, this is not captured on video or photographic evidence or any of that kind of stuff.

But there are those who say that he was at Chernobyl before that disaster. He was also allegedly spotted in the New York City area right before 9-11. And then this is not disaster related, but from 2011 to 2017, there was also a whole bunch of sightings of Mothman, like 55 people reported seeing him in the Chicago area.

But again, that didn't really seem to be tied to any disasters necessarily. Maybe the disasters were thwarted. That's interesting. And I think it's interesting that like Chernobyl and 9-11, those are both pretty big disaster events. Yeah. I wonder if there's, you know, I'm trying, I'm thinking like Fukushima, for instance, the nuclear meltdown or is some other thing maybe

he's been there and we just missed him or something like that. But I think we need to kind of put on our skeptical gecko and believer beaver hats and figure out if this was not, you know, an extraterrestrial creature sent here to warn us of the Silver Bridge or Chernobyl or whatever, what could the people of Point Pleasant been seeing and what could have been happening here? Well, it's interesting, because you have to,

because there's so many different aspects of the story, you have to kind of separate them from each other to try and skeptical gecko them. Yeah, well, let's start with Mothman himself. People have proposed a theory for what the Mothman could be, one of which is one of our all-time favorite suspects, the Owls. The Owls.

Really? Do they have interesting lenses in their eyes that reflect red or something? They do glow red when caught in the light. Okay, well that's very compelling. That said, there are people who think, well, if it wasn't some kind of supernatural being, maybe it was a Sandhill crane,

which is this bird that's not native to West Virginia, but they do make their way into the state. But this bird, apparently, I don't know what it even looks like. It must be terrifying. Can we put up, like, a picture of these birds on our Instagram? Yeah, I will have a bird up on the Instagram for people to take a look at. And I guess what's notable about it is it has a 10-foot wingspan

and red markings around its eyes. It's got the size. It's got the red eyes. What else could it be? We've said alien, you know, it could just be an alien. Angel, demon, there's that aspect. Like maybe like, and this kind of ties in to the modes of communication being challenging. I actually think I got this from the Richard Gere movie, but that it's like an extra dimensional being that exists beyond our three dimensional world, trying to squeeze itself in

to our three dimensional existence and explain to us the best way it can, what's happening or communicate with us the best way it can. Yeah, no, that's really interesting. I happened to just watch Interstellar pretty recently, and in that story, that's about at the end of that story, I hope I'm not spoiling this for anyone, humans from the future essentially have transcended

three dimensions and have built this whole thing as a means of communicating with humanity in the present day, how to save ourselves. Right. What is it through, what is the thing in Interstellar called at the end? It's like where it's, you take an extradimensional thing trying to squeeze it into...

Tesseract? Tesseract! It's a tesseract. So it's kind of like, the being is actually maybe a tesseract. A version of that. Exactly. What I was going to say. But let's set the Mothman aside.

Like I said, you have to take all these different elements of the story on their own. Like the FBI men, the plastic FBI men who never get dirty. Skeptical Gecko version says this is sort of a poetization of odd outsiders who are impeccably clean. To me it could just be like no they weren't actually never dirty they just were very very clean. Yes they were odd and you know in proper spook fashion seemed like unemotional or emotionally weird trying to kind of through psyops get information. Yeah I can imagine this is a

small town they probably don't get a whole bunch of outsiders. So when people do start showing up. Right, and efforts to describe through similes, through metaphors get taken in print for literal when it's more just an effort to describe them. And then people start saying, yeah, they did look like plastic. I can see it.

To counter that though, John Keel, that author who went to Point Pleasant to write The Mothman Prophecies was an outsider himself and reported describing them in that weird way. Yeah. Yeah. The down to earth story that comes to mind that is still a pretty amazing story and maybe not even a very believable one is that Point Pleasant found itself in the center of some kind of international or domestic intrigue where a terrorist, a known terrorist,

was hiding there or going through there, and the FBI was trying to find them. That doesn't explain the dreams. The dreams, I think, would have to be some sort of, like, mass hysteria is not the dreams. The dreams, I think, would have to be some sort of kind of like mass hysteria is not the right word, but kind of communicated. Well, I read this really scary thing in the newspaper and then I started having dreams about it. And then of course we had it ends with this terrorist attack for whatever reason.

Or, you know, assuming the bridge was more than just an accident. Right, assuming it's more than just an accident. I think that's a fine theory to kind of wrap things up though, but I think my gut, I'm going to wear the believer beaver hat on this one. And honestly, I really, really like your idea of, you know, intergalactic peril in this town where the Mothman's on the lam, you know, these people are trying to find him. I think that's really cool. And if it's not the case, I really wish it was.

Yeah. And so, I mean, honestly, like my, my, where I genuinely live at the end of this story and at the end of this discussion is I am not the skeptical gecko. I'm also not a believer beaver, but I am an agnostic new. I was trying to think of a GN animal and new came out. Yeah, no, this all sounds great but can we just change the animal please from a new because I don't even know what that looks like. Agnostic. It has to rhyme with the nah part for the agnostic narwhal. Narwhal! Yes! I love narwhals. I'm the agnostic narwhal.

We're going to have the best merch ever, guys. Get ready for it. Oh my gosh, I can't wait. And with the agnostic narwhal, we can make like a hoodie with a horn. Yeah, start sending us your ideas, guys. Cool merch ideas. We'd love to do it in the future. Also, please do send us your thoughts on what's going on here in Point Pleasant. You can always find us on Instagram at SightingsPod. Or you know, share a theory with us on Spotify comments. Now based on the date of this story, I don't need to ask you where we're going next week.

I think I know. Oh, well, do tell. I'm pretty where we're going next week. I think I know. Oh, well, do tell. I'm pretty sure we're doing listener stories. Stories. Good guess, and you're right for once. Yeah, like we said, we're going to start doing listener stories every single month. You guys have been sending in so many amazing.

And they're terrifying. Encounters that you've had with the supernatural, That we've got three really cool new stories coming your way next week. But I'm not going to say what they are. I'll have to see you then. Same place, same time, here on Sightings. Oh, I loved this one. Thanks guys. See you next time.

Bye. Sightings is hosted by McLeod, Anders and Brian Sigley. Produced by Brian Sigley, Chase Kinzer and McLeod, Anders. Written by Brian Sigley. Story music by Jack Staten. Series music by Mitch Bain. Mixing and mastering by Pat Kickleiter of Sundial Media. Artwork by Nuno Cernatus.

For a list of this episode's sources, check out our website at sightingspodcast.com. Sightings is presented by Reverb and Q-Code. If you like the show, be sure to subscribe on your favorite podcast platform so you're first to hear new episodes every week. And if you know other Supernatural fans, tell them about us. We'd really appreciate it.