The Mothman

The creature hovered over the bridge, its enormous bat-like wings flapping rapidly. It tilted its rounded head from one side to the next, listening closely. The cracking was loud, so loud. How could the wingless beings not hear it below?

The creature neared the bridge. It avoided the racing metal contraptions on the bridge as it headed straight for the cracking. The underside of the bridge, that’s where the sound was coming from.

The creature’s compound eyes soon identified the problem: a small part of the bridge was cracking—small but crucial. The creature did not know the purpose of the part, but it could sense the strain that it was under, too much for the bridge to sustain for long. The wingless had to be warned.

The creature flew to the top of the bridge and landed on its highest point. Few wingless had ever seen the creature’s kind before. Surely, if they saw it now, they would know that something was wrong…

The cracking beneath the creature intensified. The creature flapped its wings with all its might and flew away from the structure before the inevitable could happen.

The bridge collapsed. Dozens of those metal contraptions fell into the icy water below, the wingless trapped inside. Screams pierced the brisk morning air. Colorfully wrapped boxes drifted down the river as wingless, young and old, struggled to break out of their metal contraptions. Many failed.

The creature unleashed an ear-shattering screech of grief as it watched the scene unfold below. If only it had warned the wingless sooner.

Author’s Note: This piece of microfiction is based on the legend of the Mothman from Point Pleasant, West Virginia. You can learn more about the Mothman here: