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“It was perfect.” Neil kissed Prince, licking the taste of himself from Prince’s tongue. “It was so very, very perfect.”
“I believe my penis likes you very much.”
“Fuckin’ ditto.” Neil chuckled. “Mine is definitely a big fan of you.”
“Could my penis… like you again?”
“Anytime you want,” Neil replied, grunting in surprise when Prince gave him a deep thrust. “Shit, you mean right now?”
“Yes?”
“All right. But first let me grab a towel, some chips, get something to drink, and then your penis can like me as much as it wants to.”
Day 06
He had spent his entire life debunking ghosts, goblins, and hokey urban legends. After being knocked unconscious in the woods, he definitely hadn’t expected to wake up next to one.
Legends
Duncan Wilson had spent his life investigating the paranormal.
He’d chased the many ghosts of the Crescent Hotel in Arkansas, searched for shadows at the Eastern State Penitentiary in Pennsylvania, waited for Emily at her bridge in Vermont, and tried to seek out the source of Stephen King’s inspiration at the Stanley Hotel in Colorado.
He went all over the country to old prisons, abandoned jails, and more sanitariums and hospitals than he could count in his search, and he’d found…
Nothing.
Some laughter here, a blurry shadow there, perhaps a questionable EVP or two, but nothing he would say was irrefutable evidence of life beyond this one.
It wasn’t as if Duncan had ever experienced a specific paranormal phenomenon that had inspired him to research them. He hadn’t experienced anything significant at all to be quite honest. He longed to, but so far hadn’t been so lucky. Perhaps it was that very desire that fueled his passion, the yearning to finally see something so fantastic that he couldn’t explain it…
Or he was just crazy.
He certainly felt a bit crazy chasing down reports of a big moth creature that had been sighted in the mountains of North Carolina.
Duncan had always thought cryptids were silly, barely a step above fairies or gremlins on the paranormal entity hierarchy, because it was always the same story over and over again—and always with no evidence.
They were a joke, something to put on a T-shirt or star in an internet meme, but not a phenomenon to be taken seriously.
Still, here Duncan was, in a rented mountain cabin reading over eyewitness reports and tracking where they’d claimed to have seen the creature on a map of the local area. He pinpointed the creature’s possible location to a small valley nearby, and he was honestly surprised he was able to narrow it down so easily.
Usually with cases like this, the reports wouldn’t be so localized. They’d be all over the place, and it would be impossible to search because the potential area was just too big. This time, however, every single report was within just a few miles of one specific valley.
Huh.
Duncan’s next thought was that it might be a hoax.
Could be a local trying to create their own moth-person legend or some dumb kids having fun getting everyone riled up. It wouldn’t be the first time Duncan had come across people faking paranormal events, so it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. It also meant this investigation could turn dangerous.
After all, people usually didn’t like anyone spoiling their fun.
Once, a guy running a very-not-actually-haunted hotel had pulled a gun on Duncan for revealing that the creepy sounds in the middle of the night were coming from a speaker he’d hidden in the wall.
When Duncan headed out to the valley to check out the moth creature, he prepared himself for the worst.
There was a well-established trail to follow at least, so he felt confident he could find his way back to his car even after it was dark.
Well…
