The Unholy Three: Seeking The Mothman.

 Roaring through the drenched countryside, a lone 19_FlyingGlide motorbike dared to challenge the wrath of the night's hellish rainstorm. Concealed behind a soaked helmet, a pair of exhausted eyes fought valiantly to remain open and focused on the long, narrow dirt roads. Despite the storm's ungodly wind brutally swallowing the Hydra's crying engine, the driver, unwisely pushing past eighty, showed reckless defiance, adding to the palpable danger that seemed to seep from the very pores of the night.

As this determined lone biker continued his journey, it was evident that no other living soul was out in such terrible weather. With the Hydra's dim light fighting hard to provide foresight for the driver, it tragically failed to make a dent in the growing blackness of the healthy fog. Arther Philps, a man driven by the mystery of The Mothman, was resolute in his quest to uncover the truth about the mythical cryptid, even if it meant risking his life in this treacherous storm.

Sharply turning a dangerously wide turn, Arthur's arms began to feel heavy, causing his body and the Hydra's handlebars to shake uncontrollably, making it much harder to drive straight forward. Glancing down at the fuel meter, which was rapidly dropping to "E," Arthur knew he didn't have much time and needed to turn back. But the thought of The Mothman, the thrill of the chase, blinded him to the impending danger. He decided to gamble and push on, his heart pounding with a mix of fear and excitement as the engine sputtered and the fuel gauge hovered dangerously close to empty.

In a matter of moments, the narrow road guided Arther to a pathway that housed a dozen or so above-average-sized trees. Once inside the thick foliage, the rain ceased and gave way to a subtle, moist chorus, enhancing the night. Nothing could be seen as far as the eye could see. Invaded by an unshakable concern, Arthur tries to bury his worry as an awful itch crawls along his neck. Suddenly, Arthur slammed painfully on the brakes, bringing the bike to a painful halt. As the next few minutes ticked by, Arthur's eyes glanced over every tree and peeked into the rearview mirrors. Still, despite his hopes, Ather found nothing, intensifying the feeling of uncertainty that gnawed at his insides. Whipping it off as a toxic case of adrenaline, Arthur started up the Hydra's engine again and continued his travel.

Then, from out of the darkness, a thunderously mighty roar slaughtered the still silence, only to be taken over by the ever-growing movements of a powerful and unseen wingspan that drew closer as a faint crimson light tapped the biker's shoulders. Barely dodging out of the way, Arthur shifted the motorbike off the safe road and dived straight forward into the untamed earth. Bouncing and fighting hard to keep the bike under control, the mixture of high moisture and uneven terrain caused the motorcycle to lose control. Out of nowhere, the bike made contact with an unseen rock. Launching the driver into the cold, moist air. Followed by Arthur crashing brutally into the shivering-cold-muddy earth. His body twisted and ached till he rolled to a merciless blood halt. As life began to fade, Arthur could feel the freely cut loss ounce of warm blood pool effortlessly from the legions of the open cut as his swallow imploded from the dying screams of the bike's burnt wheels. Darkness attempted to take the young male into the afterlife, but another force denied him this right.

Several feet to the left of the crash site, the thunderous wingspan returned. Gracefully descending from the blackened heavens, the predator that Arthur wished to see had finally come. Standing at an impressive eight feet one and possessing a mighty physique, the Mothman crawls towards its meal with hungry, glowing red eyes. Resting its wings against its bulky backline, the Mothman talks to youth with a slow, mocking whisper.

Feeling life barely surge in his veins, Arther painfully dragged his broken shape against the earth, but he would not get far. As a loud crack popped from behind him, he could feel the forceful pressure crash on his already broken ankle. 

Exclaiming in anguish, Arthur's cries of regret were swiftly silenced as The Mothman tightly gripped his neck. The Mothman held Arthur up into the cold air with its skeletal right hand, squeezing the boy's neck till the poor youth's eyes bulged wide open. Gazing into the burning crimson eyes of The Mothman, Arthur's whole life flashed before his tearful eyes. Mustering what little strength remained, Arther pleads for mercy. Tilting its head, the Mothman did not answer. Closing its fist with great force, the Mothman crushed the dying youth's neck and watched with unblinking eyes as life slipped away from Arthur's eyes. Tossing the youth's corpse to the ground like a bored child, the Mothman flew back into the night, seeking asylum before others discovered its latest victim...