Echoes of Appalachia

A Warning Written in Red Eyes

The backroads of Mason County don’t forgive careless drivers. They twist through the Appalachian foothills like scars, past abandoned farms and rusted-out trailers where the kudzu grows unnaturally thick. Locals call this stretch between Gallipolis and Point Pleasant “the TNT area” – not just for the old munitions factory, but for what happens to people who linger after dark. The kind of place where dogs vanish without barking, where headlights sometimes catch two red points floating six feet off the ground. Where something watches from the tree line with wings too large for any bird native to these woods.

The first official sighting came on November 15, 1966. Two young couples – the Mallette’s and the Scarberry’s – parked near the TNT plant’s gate around midnight. What they described to Deputy Millard Halstead would become the blueprint for every Mothman account to follow: a gray, humanoid figure standing nearly seven feet tall, with glowing red eyes set deep in a featureless head. When it spread its wings – later estimated at 10 feet across – the creature emitted a high-frequency sound that made their fillings ache. It pursued their Chevy at speeds exceeding 100 mph, keeping pace without visible effort until they crossed into city limits.

Within 48 hours, construction worker Newell Partridge reported his German Shepherd howling at something unseen in the fields behind his home. When Partridge stepped outside with a flashlight, the beam illuminated two red circles shining back from the tree line. His dog charged toward them and never returned.

The sightings escalated through December. Waitress Faye Dewitt saw it perched on the roof of the Mason County Courthouse, wings folded like a fallen angel. Firefighter Paul Yoder encountered it standing in the middle of Route 62 at 3 AM, its eyes reflecting his headlights like a deer’s – except deer don’t stand seven feet tall at the shoulder. The creature’s appearances followed an eerie pattern: electrical disturbances preceded each encounter, with televisions displaying sudden static and car radios emitting garbled transmissions.

Then came the bridge.

On December 15, 1967 – exactly thirteen months after the first sighting – Point Pleasant’s Silver Bridge collapsed during evening rush hour. Forty-six cars plunged into the freezing Ohio River. Investigators would later determine a single eyebar in the suspension chain failed, but survivors who’d seen the Mothman knew better. Multiple witnesses reported the creature circling the bridge’s towers in the weeks before the disaster. Toll collector William Needham swore something large and dark flew parallel to the bridge moments before the collapse.

After the tragedy, sightings ceased for nearly thirty years. But in Appalachia, some stories won’t stay buried.

In 2003, a group of urban explorers investigating the TNT bunkers captured infrared footage of something moving through the concrete tunnels – something that shouldn’t fit in spaces barely four feet high. The thermal imaging showed a humanoid shape with a core body temperature reading 20 degrees colder than its surroundings.

The most recent encounter occurred last October. High school teacher Mark Davis was hunting near McClintic Wildlife Station when his GPS malfunctioned. He describes following a trail of broken branches to a clearing where the trees formed a perfect circle. In the center stood a figure “like a man made of television static,” its outline constantly shifting. When it turned, Davis saw the eyes – “not just red, but the exact color of brake lights reflected in rain.” He fired three rounds from his .30-06. The creature didn’t flinch. It simply unfolded wings that made no sound as they displaced the air, and was gone.

Scientists from Ohio State University claim the sightings can be explained by sandhill cranes or barred owls. The Shawnee tell a different story. Their oral histories speak of a flying spirit called “Owlman” that appears before great tragedies. Tribal elder Joseph Rainwater insists the creature isn’t malicious – “it’s a crossing guard between worlds, and we’re the ones who keep ignoring the stop sign.”

Tonight, as you drive Route 2 along the Ohio River, watch for sudden radio static. Note when your headlights catch movement just beyond the treeline. And if your engine stalls near the old TNT plant, don’t get out to investigate the tapping on your roof. Because in Point Pleasant, everyone knows the rules:

The Mothman always appears before disaster.

It always watches from just outside the light.

And it’s never gone for good.

-Tim Carmichael