Mothman Boyfriend: Shiloh (rough draft)

There is a small lake near your home, where decades ago, your grandfather had taken a photo which had become the basis for a myth in your hometown. He captured something coming out the lake, when on film, looked like some sort of monster. It became known as the Carvey Lake Merman. The myth grew, turning the town into a tourist trap where merchandise, tours, and specially themed locations were made. The ‘monster’ he snapped became a local cryptid and celebrity, and ever since, that lake has become a hot spot for cryptozoologists, kooky scientists, and the weird pseudointellectual fanatics who have become obsessed with cryptids recently.

There are days you can watch the lake from your porch to see them swarm, setting up equipment, cameras, what have you, just to capture this illusive Carvey Lake Merman. Your grandfather has remained tightlipped on what he saw, ever enjoying the chaos his single photo produced. He’s been interviewed and studied so many times, he has an entire wall dedicated to the papers, articles, he’s been in over the decades. He even receives gifts and cards from some of those he’s gotten close to over the years.

“You think you’ll say anything?” You ask him one day, bringing him his iced tea as he gleefully watches the circus around the lake like he does everyday.

“Nothing important,” her retorts.

You smile at him. It’s never been quite important to you what he saw or what he photographed, or even did to capture such a lucky snapshot. To you, it’s always been about the joke, which is exactly what your grandfather saw it as. The once quaint and sleepy town had woken up because of this picture and dedicated all their time, effort, and resources to keeping the legend alive. Your grandfather had shaken the status quo and was quite smug about it. You were just happy he was enjoying himself.

Your grandparents had raised you, so it was no question for you when they needed you back home. After your grandmother passed, you decided to move home permanently to take care of your grandfather. Even though he was quite capable of taking care of himself, there was the fear of him falling that was prevalent, as he had already replaced one hip.

You kept up the photo business he had started, even keeping the dark room operational and renting it out to others who still used and enjoyed film. Your grandfather had taught you everything about photography, cameras, film, it had been a boon for you in school and helped you start a business of your own before you moved back.

The dark room was one of a few left, and some of your grandfather’s old students still enjoyed coming and using the facility. Film was a dying breed, but your grandfather was adamant about keeping it alive. In most of the interviews he gave to the cryptid fanatics, he would always work in film and how, because of it, the cryptids they loved and studied had been captured. He gave a history lesson, and even managed to wrangle some into mini classes about film and developing it. It always amazed you how he was able to wrap these people around his finger.

One day though, there was someone who came for an interview who did not buy into your grandfather’s charm. You had researched him before he arrived, finding his website was more about debunking the myths and legends. You had tried convincing your grandfather not to talk to him, but your grandfather had a mischievous glint in his eye.

The man arrived, prodding and poking your grandfather as if he wanted to make him angry. Your grandfather didn’t relent though, and this only seemed to feed the man’s own insecurities. He was getting red in the face and sweating, hoping that your grandfather would give away some clue about the true origins of the Carvey Lake Merman.

It came to such a boil, you had to step in and ask the man to leave. The man tried fighting you, pushing you aside to get to your grandfather. Luckily, you were able to get him off balance and knock him down. You kicked him as he crawled out the door and you warned him to never come back.

He posted nasty articles about you and your grandfather on his website, including his plans on how to bring to light the truth about the Carvey Lake Merman. Your grandfather just laughed.

“Let him, if he’s dedicated enough maybe he’ll find the truth. But no one in this town wants that.” He said with a shake of his head. “The Merman is too important.”

“He was so stinking angry,” you murmur. “I figured he’d try to press charges before he did something stupid.”

“Stupid hurts, remember that.”

A few nights later, you awoke to the sound of a great commotion. Your grandfather was standing near the door even before you. He pushes you back, intending to take the lead himself. “Sounds like it came from the dark room. I’ll go have a look.”

“What if it’s that asshole from the other day? Let me call the cops and have them investigate.” You try to insist.

“Nonsense, let me talk to the boy. Probably never had a good talking to.” He opens the door and heads outside.

“You are too old for this shit!” You chase after him, but he keeps trying to push you back.

More noise rises from the dark room, followed by a painful cry. You grab hold of your grandfather in shock. “What was that?”

A thoughtful look crosses his face, pinching his thick brows together. “Sounds hurt, scared. I don’t think it’s that boy, darling.”

You both approach the door cautiously and your grandfather opens the door, placing his cane before himself. Inside you hear whimpers and cries, followed by another horrible scream. Your grandfather turns on the light, and laying on the ground, tucking itself under the tables, is a creature you’ve never seen before.

“Look at the blood,” your grandfather whispers. “It’s hurt.”

“What is it?” You hiss back at him.

“Doesn’t matter. We need to get the poor thing calm so we can try to help it. The emergency kit is right over there, get it and I’ll try talk to the poor thing.” He walks in despite your protests and he comes close to the creature.

The creature screams and hisses, tucking itself further back into the corner.

“It’s okay, we ain’t gonna hurt you. You came into the right place.” Grandfather waves you over, taking the kit from your hands. You kneel beside him, glancing under the table where you see red.

“Look,” your grandfather points. He points to the red legs, one of which is snared and wrapped in metal. “It got caught by trap.”

“Those traps are illegal around here,” you whisper.

“Does that stop people?” Your grandfather continues to try and coax the creature to let you help him.

“Not you,” a gravelly voice breaths “You get out. Leave her here.”

Both of you are in shock. You hadn’t expected it to talk at all, let alone in a language you could understand.

“No men,” it snarls. “Get away from me!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll get.” You help your grandfather rise and he goes to the door. “But I’ll be out here. I’m not leaving her alone like this.”

The creature growls low and your grandfather closes the door just enough so he can still see inside. It slouches, going limp and crying in pain.

“It’s okay, let me see.” You approaching, gently touching his leg which elicits a whimper. You inspect the trap to find a way to release him. “This is awful. I’m so sorry.”

The creatures breathes deep, their voice cracking at the pain.

You introduce yourself with a gentle tone. “What’s your name?”

“Shiloh,” he breathes.

You finally manage to get the trap to release and you remove the horrible metal thing from his leg. He cries, twisting in pain then slumping again. You see he has great big wings that are soft brown and white. His body, mostly red and fuzzy, has some white patches to it.

“Can you get up?” You ask. “I’ll take you to the house.”

He lashes his arm out at you. “I you try to move me I will scream!”

You stop his hand and grab it “You’ve broken a lot of glass in here, it isn’t safe! There’s all sorts of caustic fluids on the floor you don’t want in these cuts!”

Shiloh goes still, whimpering in pain with each breath. He suddenly goes limp, passing out from the pain and bloodloss. You manage to get him up and onto your back, with your grandfather’s help you get him back to the main house where you put him into the guest room, making sure to keep the windows covered.

“That’s not a merman,” you whisper.

“More like a mothman,” your grandfather admires. “Who knew?” He chuckles.

“Should we call the cops about the trap? Try to find the others so no one else gets hurt?” You ask him quietly.

He sighs and murmurs something under his breath. “We need to protect Shiloh first, if we report the trap we’d have to report what got caught in it too. For now, we keep our heads low and see if anyone comes up asking about it.”

“What if it’s that asshole from before?” You grumble.

Your grandfather grins. “Leave him to me. Shiloh won’t let me near him, so you need to be the one to take care of him. We need to keep him safe and out of the public eye.”

You furrow your brow at this. “Grandpa, is the merman fake?”

He gives you a look, his smile fading some. “I know what you’re thinking, but this is a different situation,” he says cryptically. “Go check on Shiloh, I’ll start us some coffee.”

You go back to the guest room where Shiloh is laid in bed. His leg is bandaged, but still bleeding. He’s laying on his belly so his wings cover himself. He’s quite big, taking up the twin bed with little room for even the sheets. You had always expected something to come out of the lake, but never anything like this.

Shiloh shifts in bed, his wings flutter then fold tightly against his back. He looks up at you, large dark eyes exhausted and wet with tears. “Where am I?”

You kneel down beside the bed. “You’re inside, safe.”

He tries to sit up but winces from the pain in his leg. He buried his face into a pillow and screams in pain.

“Do you need anything?” You ask. You touch his arm and he pulls away from you. “Water? Food? Anything.”

He breaths raggedly and lifts his face from the pillow. “If anyone finds out about me-”

“They won’t,” you quickly cover. “No one is going to see you except my grandfather and me. So rest.”

Shiloh looks at you, dark eyes are flecked with gold and green. His glare losses focus as he sinks back into the bed. “Leave me alone.”

“If you need anything just-”

His wings spread out and almost hit you. “Leave!”

You jump up and go, closing the door behind you. You join your grandfather in the kitchen where he hands you your cup coffee. “How is he?”

“Hurt,” you sigh. “I don’t know what to do.”

“He’s defensive because he’s hurt. Give him time, he’ll eventually learn we mean him no harm and he’s safe here. Besides, if he is a moth, once daylight comes he’ll want to sleep.” Your grandfather then sighs deeply. “I still can’t quite wrap my mind around it. A mothman!”

“Doesn’t a mothman bring some sort of tragedy?” You ask.

“Well, maybe,” he sits down. “The one in Point Pleasant, I believe, was a warning. Perhaps this one is a warning too.”

“Shiloh doesn’t look like that mothman though,” you slouch in your chair.

Grandfather chuckles, a smile blooming on his face. “Whose to say we know what any of this legendary creatures looks like? We could be all wrong.”

Shiloh sleeps the rest of the day, just like your grandfather said. That evening, you hear noises from the guest room and you go to check. Shiloh is hobbling from the bed, going to look out the window. He turns abruptly at you enter and his eyes are wide and completely black.

You raise your hands up defensively. “I came to check on your bandages.”

Shiloh’s wings close and he appears to relax. “It’s fine. You don’t need to touch it.”

“Sit back down,” you urge. “I need to check if everything is okay. Make sure there’s no infection.” You then hold up a bottle of water and a bottle of apple juice. “I wasn’t sure what you’d want.”

Shiloh sits on the bed and cautiously extends his leg towards you. The fluffy red antenna on his head arches then tilts as he looks at you. He snatches the bottle of apple juice, sniffing it before he opens it. You inspect his leg, taking off the bandages to see it’s healing well, but everything still looks raw and hot. You apply some medicine, to which he hisses at you, but he calms as the pain subsides.

“It’ll be okay.” You apply fresh bandages. “It’s healing well.”

Shiloh quickly pulls his leg back. “Just show me the exit.”

You glare at him. “What? No! You shouldn’t be out on your leg right now, you could end up making it worse on yourself.”

He thrusts the empty bottle back at you. “Let me out.”

“No!” You insist.

His eyes narrow. “Why do you care?”

“Because I do. I don’t need a reason.” You stand back up. “Now, do you need anything else?”

“The water, please,” he grumps.

You hand him the bottle. “Okay then.”

He sighs heavily. “Sorry. I don’t mean to be rude, I’m just…”

“You’re scared. It’s okay.” You sit down in a chair. “Can you tell me what happened?” You ask gently.

Shiloh drinks the water and sighs. “There have always been people at the lake. I’m used to that. But the other day, someone was in the woods near my home. I saw him setting traps-”

“Short guy? Greasy hair combed over to all one side?”

Shiloh’s eyes narrow. “You know him?”

You grimace. “I had a gut feeling. He’s been harassing my grandfather and I for a while now. Go on.”

“I wanted to get rid of the traps, lots of things could have gotten hurt. Well-” He motions to his leg. “Ta-da I guess.”

“I’m curious, what else is in the woods?”

“What do you think?” he laughs. “Deer and rabbits and shit.”

Your face turns red. “Oh. I thought you meant-”

“Werewolves and unicorns?” He scoffs. “That’s a town over.”

You look over Shiloh, his red fur, his great wings. His face is sharp and angled, high cheek bones mold to suit his large eyes. His mouth is small and jagged, mostly black from the looks of it. He’s quite large in frame, but when you had carried him he wasn’t that heavy. He notices you staring and extends his wings out to alarm you.

You sit up in your seat. “Sorry, I’m still kind of in awe. I’ve never seen anything like you before.”

He grimaces. “You’re not supposed to.”

You blush, embarrassed a bit. “I know.”

The next morning, that grubby asshole shows back up at your door. He looks disheveled and greasy, as well as red in the face.

“Welcome back, young man,” your grandfather greets him. “How can we help you?”

His eyes dart around inside the house as if looking. He then focuses on your and seethes. “I’m looking for something of mine.”

You hold your breath, wondering if he knew his trap wound up here. It was still in the dark room as you had been afraid of touching it while cleaning the place the last couple of days.

“Like what?” Your grandfather asks. “Maybe we can help you look for it.”

The little nutter twitches and shakes his head. “Seen anything?”

“Oh, lots of things since my cataract surgery.”

He grimaces. “If you see anything, you best tell me.” He leaves in a huff, kicking rocks as he goes back to his car.

“What an awful thing he is,” your grandfather muses.

That evening, Shiloh is able to walk a little. You take him outside onto the screened in porch so he can get some fresh air. He sits in the swing and gazes through the screen at the moon.

“Thank you, for helping me,” he murmurs quietly.

“Don’t worry about it.” You pat his hand, which he takes to hold. His touch is soft, fuzzy, almost like velvet. Your heart skips a beat and you hold his hand in return.

You then hear something in the dark room again. You jump up and turn to Shiloh. “Stay here,” you urge him and you run off the porch. Already your grandfather is approaching the dark room, but as he goes to the door he’s knocked to the ground.

“Hey!” Rage instantly bursts forth in you and you rush to your grandfather. The little asshole from before has his trap in his hand and is using it to smash up the dark room. You leave your grandfather side and lunge at him, pushing him back against the tables. He strikes you, hitting you across the face and making you stumble.

“Where is it?” he bellows. “What was in this trap? Did you take it to try and spite me?”

You’re holding your bloody nose, but you’re willing to break it off entirely to hurt this piece of shit. You lunge again, punching him in the eye and he swings again, only to miss and stumble over a table. He seethes, reach with the trap to strike again when glowing red eyes appear in the window. He screams, jumping back. There’s a scutter on the roof and he tries to run through the door, tripping over your grandfather before he’s grabbed from above and disappears.

You rush to your grandfather’s side. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I landed on the fake hip.” He struggles to stand as you help him, but after a moment he seems okay. You look out towards the lake where you see something flying then drop the asshole into the lake.

“That Shiloh is a nice fella,” your grandfather remarks.

You get him back inside, and by that time Shiloh comes back. “Take care of this one, I’m fine,” your grandfather says.

Shiloh takes you into the kitchen to wash your face. “You poor thing,” he whispers.

You chuckle. “This isn’t my first bloody nose,” you say. “I’m fine. Really.”

Shiloh helps you take care of yourself, and already you can tell you’re going to have a bruised eye or two. Shiloh gently touches your cheek, smoothing his velvet fingertips along your skin.

“I’m fine,” you assure him. “Thanks for the help earlier.”

He smiles. “No problem at all. Kind of fun really.”

You wake up the next morning, finding yourself snuggled to Shiloh’s fluffy chest. You want to linger, but your need to check on your grandfather prevails. You find him in the kitchen, happily making breakfast.

“Oh dear god, look how ugly you are!” He chuckles. “Come here, darling. Let me see what happened.”

“That asshole broke my nose. I’ll go to the doctor today to make sure it’s not gonna pierce my brain or anything.” Your grandfather smooths his hand under your eyes then rubs your nose, which is sore, but not horrible.

Grandfather sighs. “I don’t think it’s broken. That little jerk wasn’t strong enough. I’ll be going to talk to the cops today. Hopefully they’ll chase him off. Your cousin is still the sheriff right?”

“Yeah.”

He then smiles. “He seemed awfully concerned with you last night. Do I need to have a talk with the young man.”

A smile blooms across your face. “Oh come on.”

“You come on. A fella knows when another is sweet on someone,” he fusses. “You’re my pride and joy, I need to have a talk with him if he keeps wanting to play the knight in shining armor to your barely in distress damsel.”

You chuckle and shake your head. “If you really must.”

“Oh I must.”

You go back to the bedroom where Shiloh is sitting up in bed. His antenna rise as you come in and he holds his hand out to you. You take it, gently holding it until he pulls you in close and wraps his arms around you.

Shiloh eventually is able to return to the forest, once the asshole is dealt with, even though he is now raving about some red flying demon that feeds the monster in the lake. He’s sent off, but he keeps appearing around the lake, only to be kicked out again.

You go into the woods now to visit with Shiloh. He lives in an old hunting cabin which has become so overgrown with vines and moss it looks like a small hill. Inside there are signs someone lived there before.

“I was raised by a woman who lived here. She found my abandoned egg and kept me safe.” He looks around the old cabin and hangs his head. “She died in town, I never even got to say goodbye.”

You hold his hand and he pulls you into his embrace. He holds you affectionately, eventually cuping your face before he kisses you. You winced and he pulls back.

“My nose is still sore” you chuckle. “It’s okay, come back.”

He comes close again, kissing you while being cautious of your nose. You wrap your arms around him, stroking down his body so you can feel how soft he is. He shivers as you touch his hips and he moans against your lips.

“Careful.”

“Ticklish?” You smirk.

“Sort of,” he smirks. “In a different way.”

You smooth your palms there, watching his expression as it becomes seductive. He steps from your grasp and lays you on the kitchen table. He kisses you, pressing your back against the cool wood. He spreads your thighs, placing himself between them.

“Shiloh,” you whisper. “Your leg.”

“It’s fine. Are you?”

You nod. “As long as the table can hold up.”

Shiloh kisses you, moving his hands down until he takes off your pants. You feel something nudge against the fabric of your panties. Shiloh licks your lips with a black tongue, slowly moving down until he’s kissing your belly. He moves aside your panties and rubs his fingers there. The velvet of his touch becomes damp, feeling silky against your skin.

“Still fine?” He pants.

You nod. “You?”

He lays back upon you, kissing you deeply. His shaft presses between your folds, rubbing there until he places himself within. His shape is strange, bulbous in the middle while the tip curves up at a sharp angle. He stays shallow at first, moving slowly as he breathes into your ear.

His wings spread out, covering your vision as you cling tight to him. Your rake your hands down his back, arching yours from the table as his movements before longer. He moans into your ear as he drives himself further. The table rocks as his wings shudder and twitch.

You hold onto him tightly, locking your legs around him and urging him to move harder. The table shakes more, but at this point you’re too far gone in Shiloh and ecstasy to care. He pulls you closer to the edge, angling your hips up as he drives down. He kisses you, whimpering as there is a twitch inside.

You hold his arms tight, gasping for breath before throwing your head back, hitting the table a little harder than you mean to. That doesn’t stop the waves that flow through you. You catch your breath eventually, laughing as Shiloh cups the back of your head.

“Why did you do that?” He chuckles.

You smile at him. “I’m fine, don’t worry.”

Shiloh smiles in return, still catching his breath. “I will, because I care.”