Written for the 2023 Spook Me Challenge
Title: Like a Moth to the Flame
Genre: Man from UNCLE
Rating: PG
Word count: 1,368
Guest Monster: Moth Man
Inspiration images:
My thanks to Stacy for a great challenge. I look forward to it every year! Also my thanks to nursesparky for her beta
As was often their arrangement, Illya was behind the steering wheel and Napoleon stared out the window in a half trance. He hadn’t been in West Virginia since his honeymoon and, while he tried not to dwell upon what might have been, the memories still overtook him. He remembered them hiking through Blackfoot National Park during the day and snuggling up in their tiny tent at night. They would fall asleep in each other’s arms, he hearing his new wife softly murmuring his name in his ear.
“Napoleon?”
It took him a minute to realize it was not her speaking, but that of his partner.
“Sorry, I was lost in a daydream.”
“A pleasant one from the way you were smiling.”
“Yes, it was. Is there a problem?” Napoleon asked.
“No, just old ghosts.” He let the memory go and brought his attention back around to the present and Illya. “So, what’s going on?”
“I just wondered how much information you got on this case. My file was rather sparse on details.”
“The best I can offer is that four kids saw something at an abandoned ammunition factory about a month ago. When they drove away, they said that something white flew after them for a few miles.”
“UNCLE is chasing after ghosts now?” Illya was dubious. “I’ll be sure to add that to my many talents.”
“Think about it. It’s just wacky enough to be one of THRUSH’s half-baked schemes. Mr. Waverly wants us to check it out to be sure.
“Preferably in the daytime when we can see our hands in front of our faces.” Illya slowed at the road sign. “Looks like Point Pleasant is just a few miles ahead.”
“We’re booked into the Lowe Hotel. It’s on the corner of 4th and Main Street.”
“Sounds good.” A blur of white in the sky caught Illya’s attention and he slowed the car.
“What’s wrong?” Napoleon was instantly alert and scanning the area.
“Thought I saw something.” Illya grinned a little sheepishly. “Sorry.”
“You’re not usually given to flights of fantasy.” Napoleon leaned over to turn off the radio, then paused, looking decidedly confused.
“Now it’s my turn to ask,” Illya said.
“I heard some buzzing sound. I thought it was static on the radio. Guess we’re both a little tired.”
“Flying from Milan to Tokyo to Caracas will do that to a man. A good night’s sleep won’t hurt either of us.”
They paused long enough to check in and drop off their suitcases in the room before heading to a nearby diner.
Napoleon grimaced at the plastic menu. “Hamburgers? Hot dogs? Where’s the adult food?” The diner was almost too warm and he longed to take off his jacket.
“Napoleon, you were eating grubs three days ago. Surely chicken fried steak is an improvement over that.”
“I knew you were hooked when you saw the pies coming in.”
Illya grinned. “I’m a man who knows what he likes.”
The waitress appeared with coffee cups and a steaming pot of coffee. “You gents ready to order?”
“What’s good?”
“Everything.” She poured the coffee with a practiced motion.
“If you were going to eat here, what would you order?”
“Pizza from the joint at the end of the street,” she murmured quietly. “The meatloaf is pretty good.”
“I’ll try that then and my friend will have the chicken fried steak.”
“Comes with soup and salad. I’ll be right back.”
Illya unfolded a newspaper that he’d picked up in the hotel lobby and fished for his glasses in his shirt pocket. He scanned the front page quickly and moved on.
“Napoleon, listen to this: Newell Partridge--”
“Partridge?”
“I noticed that, too,” Illya said, dryly. “A local contractor said that he, too, saw the creature and when he caught it in his flashlight, its eyes glowed an eerily red. He also reported that his TV started buzzing for no reason and his German Shepherd vanished. So far, the fog has not been recovered, but his television is back to normal.
Robert L. Smith, wildlife biologist from the University of West Virginia said and that the sighting could have been that of a Sandhill crane that somehow gotten off its migration path.”
Illya set the newspaper aside as their soup and salad arrived. The soup was a murky brown and Napoleon hesitantly dipped his spoon into it. He tasted and his face grew astonished. “This is really good.”
Illya followed suit and nodded as he ate. The salad greens were cold and crisp, accompanied by tomatoes, radishes, cucumbers and pickled beets.
“This is probably one of the best salads I’ve ever had in my life,” he admitted, as he reluctantly speared the last bit of lettuce. “If the rest of the meal is this good…”
“It is.” The waitress set down a tray and delivered the rest of their dinner.
“Then why did you suggest the pizza place?”
“I just really like their pizza.” She paused when she caught sight of the paper. “Are you here because of the Moth Man?”
“The Moth Man?”
She tapped the paper. “That’s why they are calling it now.” She started to turn away. “Damned fools.”
“You don’t believe in it?”
“A bunch of kids are out necking and someone comes upon them? Granted, it’s a better story than most of the time, but come on. A giant moth? And why were they out at that old munitions factory to begin with. It’s been condemned.”
“Well, I’ve been known to poke around places that are off limits. It’s exciting.”
“Not that place. Take my advice. Eat up, get a good night’s sleep, and go home. There’s nothing here to see. After having breakfast here, of course. Hank makes a wicked French toast. More coffee?”
“Yes, please.”
She hurried away and Napoleon watched her go with a practiced eye. “They seem in a pretty big hurry to have us leave,” Napoleon said, poking at his meatloaf.
“I think maybe we need to take a few days to soak up the atmosphere before turning in our report.”
“Tonight?” He reluctantly took a bit of the meatloaf. “Wow, this is really good.”
“You should try the chicken.” Illya said as the waitress returned with a pot of fresh coffee. They made small talk with her until she left them to wait on another patron. “If they suspect us, they will be expecting us to make a move. I always say that things look better in the daylight, especially condemned munition factories.”
“Mr. Waverly did advice caution.”
“He just doesn’t want to have to pay for any more of your suits.”
“Pie, gents?” The waitress reappeared as if by magic as they finished their last bites. Napoleon laughed at Illya’s enthusiastic grin.
“Probably one slice of each.”
She took out her pad. “We have seven different kinds.”
“As I said.” In the end, Napoleon decided upon strawberry and Illya went with coconut cream and then split a slice of rhubarb between them.
They exited the restaurant and Napoleon stretched his arms above his head. “I don’t know about you, but I’m beat. All that driving today.”
“Which I did,” Illya said, then he stopped. “Do you feel that?”
“Feel what?”
“Like we’re being watched?”
“Two strangers new to town, of course people are going to be watching us.” Napoleon started walking back to their hotel room. They were nearly there when Illya stopped again.
“No, it’s something else. I feel like…” He turned quickly and pointed. “There!”
Perched atop a lamp post was something large and white. Its eyes glowed red as it watched them.
“Are you seeing this?” Illya managed after a moment, his hand going for his pistol.
“No.” Napoleon followed suit. Then, abruptly, it was gone.
“Where did it go?”
“No idea, but I’m going to blame it on the rhubarb pie when I write up my report. You’ll back me up.”
“To the hilt and higher if necessary. There’s no such thing as a Mothman.”
“We can only hope that’s true. Give me a THRUSH any day.”
Quickly, they entered their hotel and closed the door. For his part, he simply watched, out of sight. For now, it was safer that way.
Genre: Man from UNCLE
Rating: PG
Word count: 1,368
Guest Monster: Moth Man
Inspiration images:
My thanks to Stacy for a great challenge. I look forward to it every year! Also my thanks to nursesparky for her beta
As was often their arrangement, Illya was behind the steering wheel and Napoleon stared out the window in a half trance. He hadn’t been in West Virginia since his honeymoon and, while he tried not to dwell upon what might have been, the memories still overtook him. He remembered them hiking through Blackfoot National Park during the day and snuggling up in their tiny tent at night. They would fall asleep in each other’s arms, he hearing his new wife softly murmuring his name in his ear.
“Napoleon?”
It took him a minute to realize it was not her speaking, but that of his partner.
“Sorry, I was lost in a daydream.”
“A pleasant one from the way you were smiling.”
“Yes, it was. Is there a problem?” Napoleon asked.
“No, just old ghosts.” He let the memory go and brought his attention back around to the present and Illya. “So, what’s going on?”
“I just wondered how much information you got on this case. My file was rather sparse on details.”
“The best I can offer is that four kids saw something at an abandoned ammunition factory about a month ago. When they drove away, they said that something white flew after them for a few miles.”
“UNCLE is chasing after ghosts now?” Illya was dubious. “I’ll be sure to add that to my many talents.”
“Think about it. It’s just wacky enough to be one of THRUSH’s half-baked schemes. Mr. Waverly wants us to check it out to be sure.
“Preferably in the daytime when we can see our hands in front of our faces.” Illya slowed at the road sign. “Looks like Point Pleasant is just a few miles ahead.”
“We’re booked into the Lowe Hotel. It’s on the corner of 4th and Main Street.”
“Sounds good.” A blur of white in the sky caught Illya’s attention and he slowed the car.
“What’s wrong?” Napoleon was instantly alert and scanning the area.
“Thought I saw something.” Illya grinned a little sheepishly. “Sorry.”
“You’re not usually given to flights of fantasy.” Napoleon leaned over to turn off the radio, then paused, looking decidedly confused.
“Now it’s my turn to ask,” Illya said.
“I heard some buzzing sound. I thought it was static on the radio. Guess we’re both a little tired.”
“Flying from Milan to Tokyo to Caracas will do that to a man. A good night’s sleep won’t hurt either of us.”
They paused long enough to check in and drop off their suitcases in the room before heading to a nearby diner.
Napoleon grimaced at the plastic menu. “Hamburgers? Hot dogs? Where’s the adult food?” The diner was almost too warm and he longed to take off his jacket.
“Napoleon, you were eating grubs three days ago. Surely chicken fried steak is an improvement over that.”
“I knew you were hooked when you saw the pies coming in.”
Illya grinned. “I’m a man who knows what he likes.”
The waitress appeared with coffee cups and a steaming pot of coffee. “You gents ready to order?”
“What’s good?”
“Everything.” She poured the coffee with a practiced motion.
“If you were going to eat here, what would you order?”
“Pizza from the joint at the end of the street,” she murmured quietly. “The meatloaf is pretty good.”
“I’ll try that then and my friend will have the chicken fried steak.”
“Comes with soup and salad. I’ll be right back.”
Illya unfolded a newspaper that he’d picked up in the hotel lobby and fished for his glasses in his shirt pocket. He scanned the front page quickly and moved on.
“Napoleon, listen to this: Newell Partridge--”
“Partridge?”
“I noticed that, too,” Illya said, dryly. “A local contractor said that he, too, saw the creature and when he caught it in his flashlight, its eyes glowed an eerily red. He also reported that his TV started buzzing for no reason and his German Shepherd vanished. So far, the fog has not been recovered, but his television is back to normal.
Robert L. Smith, wildlife biologist from the University of West Virginia said and that the sighting could have been that of a Sandhill crane that somehow gotten off its migration path.”
Illya set the newspaper aside as their soup and salad arrived. The soup was a murky brown and Napoleon hesitantly dipped his spoon into it. He tasted and his face grew astonished. “This is really good.”
Illya followed suit and nodded as he ate. The salad greens were cold and crisp, accompanied by tomatoes, radishes, cucumbers and pickled beets.
“This is probably one of the best salads I’ve ever had in my life,” he admitted, as he reluctantly speared the last bit of lettuce. “If the rest of the meal is this good…”
“It is.” The waitress set down a tray and delivered the rest of their dinner.
“Then why did you suggest the pizza place?”
“I just really like their pizza.” She paused when she caught sight of the paper. “Are you here because of the Moth Man?”
“The Moth Man?”
She tapped the paper. “That’s why they are calling it now.” She started to turn away. “Damned fools.”
“You don’t believe in it?”
“A bunch of kids are out necking and someone comes upon them? Granted, it’s a better story than most of the time, but come on. A giant moth? And why were they out at that old munitions factory to begin with. It’s been condemned.”
“Well, I’ve been known to poke around places that are off limits. It’s exciting.”
“Not that place. Take my advice. Eat up, get a good night’s sleep, and go home. There’s nothing here to see. After having breakfast here, of course. Hank makes a wicked French toast. More coffee?”
“Yes, please.”
She hurried away and Napoleon watched her go with a practiced eye. “They seem in a pretty big hurry to have us leave,” Napoleon said, poking at his meatloaf.
“I think maybe we need to take a few days to soak up the atmosphere before turning in our report.”
“Tonight?” He reluctantly took a bit of the meatloaf. “Wow, this is really good.”
“You should try the chicken.” Illya said as the waitress returned with a pot of fresh coffee. They made small talk with her until she left them to wait on another patron. “If they suspect us, they will be expecting us to make a move. I always say that things look better in the daylight, especially condemned munition factories.”
“Mr. Waverly did advice caution.”
“He just doesn’t want to have to pay for any more of your suits.”
“Pie, gents?” The waitress reappeared as if by magic as they finished their last bites. Napoleon laughed at Illya’s enthusiastic grin.
“Probably one slice of each.”
She took out her pad. “We have seven different kinds.”
“As I said.” In the end, Napoleon decided upon strawberry and Illya went with coconut cream and then split a slice of rhubarb between them.
They exited the restaurant and Napoleon stretched his arms above his head. “I don’t know about you, but I’m beat. All that driving today.”
“Which I did,” Illya said, then he stopped. “Do you feel that?”
“Feel what?”
“Like we’re being watched?”
“Two strangers new to town, of course people are going to be watching us.” Napoleon started walking back to their hotel room. They were nearly there when Illya stopped again.
“No, it’s something else. I feel like…” He turned quickly and pointed. “There!”
Perched atop a lamp post was something large and white. Its eyes glowed red as it watched them.
“Are you seeing this?” Illya managed after a moment, his hand going for his pistol.
“No.” Napoleon followed suit. Then, abruptly, it was gone.
“Where did it go?”
“No idea, but I’m going to blame it on the rhubarb pie when I write up my report. You’ll back me up.”
“To the hilt and higher if necessary. There’s no such thing as a Mothman.”
“We can only hope that’s true. Give me a THRUSH any day.”
Quickly, they entered their hotel and closed the door. For his part, he simply watched, out of sight. For now, it was safer that way.