John A Keel by 1975 The Mothman Prophecies

Author:1975 The Mothman Prophecies [Prophecies, 1975 The Mothman]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-12-30T23:40:47+00:00

IV

During her news-gathering rounds, Mary Hyre was approached by a professional woman in Gallipolis, Ohio, the town directly across the river from Gallipolis Ferry, West Virginia. She said she heard I was in the area and she wanted to talk to me. My motel, the Blue Fountain, was on the outskirts of Gallipolis so I arranged a meeting with the lady. She held a very responsible job and insisted on anonymity, as so many witnesses do, so I will call her Mrs. Bryant.

We met in a private office in a major company in Gallipolis. Mrs. Bryant was a reserved, well-spoken middle-aged woman who looked slightly fatigued from overwork.

She was very secretive and suspicious at first, but after I showed her my parcel of credentials she relaxed somewhat. It was obvious she had been through a great deal and she was concerned I would not believe her. She had gone to the local authorities, she said, and they had laughed at her. I assured her that I wouldn't laugh, that I was accustomed to hearing incredible stories from credible people.

"Last November ... I think it was the second or third," she began, "I was out behind this building, getting ready to go home. It was seven or eight o'clock.

Suddenly there was a little flash, like a camera flash gun going off, directly above me ... and then I saw a thing ... some kind of flying machine. I couldn't move. I guess I was frozen with fright. This thing landed right there in the parking lot not twenty feet away from me. It was like a big cylinder. Anyway, it didn't make the slightest bit of noise. It just drifted down and stopped. Like I say, I couldn't move. I guess I started praying. Then two men came out of it and they walked over to me."

She studied me anxiously as if expecting me to laugh.

"What did they look like?" I asked.

"They were just normal-sized, normal-looking men, but their skins were a funny color ... dark, like maybe they were heavily tanned. The light was pretty bad there so I couldn't see them all that well."

"Were they Negroes?"

"No. No, they didn't have Negroid features. Their faces seemed kind of pointed.

You know, pointed noses, pointed chins, high cheekbones. There was a kind of evil look about them. I was afraid I was going to get robbed or attacked."

"How were they dressed?" I leaned back and lit my pipe.

"As near as I could tell, they were wearing some kind of coveralls, something like a uniform. Then they started talking to me."

She kept watching me, reluctant to continue.

"What did they have to say?" I prompted, trying to avoid leading questions.

"Well, it was all pretty silly. They just wanted to know my name, where I was from, what I did for a living, things like that Sometimes it was hard to understand them. Their voices were sort of singsongy and high-pitched. It was like listening to a phonograph record played at the wrong speed. And they kept asking me for the time.

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