Mothman Paranormal Witness at Point Pleasant West Virginia
Several years ago, while photographing burial mounds and earthworks for the book, "The Nephilim Chronicles: A Travel Guide to the Ruins in the Ohio Valley," I had an encounter with a ghost, demon, or something that defied any explanation. I had spent a long day going to sites down the Ohio River, going back and forth from Ohio into West Virginia. The last site for the day was at Gallipolis, Ohio, that is across the river from Point Pleasant, West Virginia. A mound was listed as being in the city cemetery that sat on a high bluff overlooking the Ohio River. Was it the Mothman or the Demon Pazuzu?
Several years ago, while photographing burial mounds and earthworks for the book, "The Nephilim Chronicles: A Travel Guide to the Ruins in the Ohio Valley," I had an encounter with a ghost, demon, or something that defied any explanation. I had spent a long day going to sites down the Ohio River, going back and forth from Ohio into West Virginia. The last site for the day was at Gallipolis, Ohio, that is across the river from Point Pleasant, West Virginia. A mound was listed as being in the city cemetery that sat on a high bluff overlooking the Ohio River. Was it the Mothman or the Demon Pazuzu?
After taking this photo, I walked over to the bluff and looked out over the Ohio River. I was especially intrigued by the fact that I was also looking at the Kanawha River's mouth because I was going to follow this river to Charleston, West Virginia, to photograph the mound sites there. The Shawnee called the Kanawha river, 'The River of Evil Spirits." In Charleston, henges measured 666 feet in circumference, many mounds, and one of the largest concentrations of giant skeletons in the Ohio Valley. Knowing the significance of the Kanawha's mouth, I was surprised that more mounds were not constructed at this site. Generally, I do not take landscape photos, but the mouth of the Kanawha was significant, and so I raised my camera for a photo. As I took the pic, a voice said: "Nice evening, isn't it?" I looked around, and I was the only person in the cemetery, and thought it strange, but was probably a voice that had carried for a distance somewhere from the bottom of the bluff. I got in the car to leave and drove the short distance around the cemetery to the steep incline back down the hill when the steering wheel jerked hard to the left. I missed the drive and had to go back around the cemetery. My thought was that I had hit a pothole that had pushed the wheel to the left. As I drove back around, I was looking ahead and saw no hole in the drive, and as I approached, the steering wheel began to turn to the left all on its own. Missing the exit again, I knew something was up. I got back to the exit, opened my door, placed my left foot on the ground a walked the car to the exit, and partially down the hill.
In route to Charleston, I must have looked in my review mirror a hundred times because I was convinced some were sitting in the back seat. When I got to my hotel, the room was freezing cold. The temp was in the low 70s, and I couldn't understand why my room was 50 degrees.
The next morning, I went to the gas station to fill up and check the oil to find out there was zero oil in the car. The car didn't burn oil, and there was no evidence that I ruptured the oil pan.
The next destination was Madison County, Kentucky, where there were numerous giants along with another henge that measured 666 feet. In route, the car engine began to cut out, and at one time, I was only going 45 mph down I-75. When I reached Richmond, Virginia, and head south down the country roads to the henge, I had to go up some steep hill that the car would did not have the power to get to the top. I had to turn around and get ahead of speed to get over them.
I arrived at the site only to find it was on private property. I did photograph three mounds in the area with great difficulty. I made back to Richmond, exhausted, and wondering what to do. I decided I would get as far as I could and then abandon the car and hitchhike to Cincinnati and maybe get a bus home.
Twenty four hours had passed since my encounter at the cemetery. As I got on I-75, the car had no difficulty reaching 65 mph, and it stopped cutting out. The car never did it again the time that I still owned it. Nor did ever burn oil.
When I returned home, I told a friend about the experience and asked if I knew about the Mothman. I did not. He said there was a movie called The Mothman Prophecies, and I should rent it, and I did. Really? I looked again at the photo I had taken overlooking the Ohio River and saw a face. I presumed it is who asked, "Nice evening, isn't it?" I can not help but think there is a connection with Mothman and the mound builders.
I did some additional research that said some of the people who had died in the bridge collapse were buried in this cemetery. Further, the Mothman had been sighted in a tree at this cemetery.
