Point Pleasant by Jen Archer Wood

his coffee when he sat beside her on a bench by the fountain in the center of the square. The area was desolate despite its central position. Most people were at work and kids were in school, but the square was never this empty in Ben’s memory.
    “So what did you want to talk to me about?” Lizzie asked before she took a bite of the cranberry and brie on rye.
    “Oh, just the festival, I guess,” Ben replied and tried to sound casual. “But then I read this morning’s paper. Is it true they might cancel the whole thing?”
    “I hope not,” Lizzie said, and Ben could tell she was sincere. “But you know how this town operates. Shoves its head in the sand. Your friend worst of all, I think. No offense.”
    “None taken,” Ben said, realizing she meant Nicholas. “Haven’t spoken to him in years, so I wouldn’t call us friends anymore.”
    “Yeah, what happened with that anyway? You guys were always inseparable,” Lizzie asked and then blushed. “Sorry, I’m still nosy.”
    “Just grew up different, I guess,” Ben said with a shrug as he looked off at the fountain and the Sheriff’s Department on the other side of the square. “But I know what you mean. Head in the sand. Coyotes and raccoons and all.”
    Lizzie rolled her eyes and sipped her coffee. Ben expected to see traces of scarlet on the lip of the cup, but he noted that the paper remained a pristine white.
    “I mean, I am not the type to buy into the whole ‘Mothman’ thing,” she said, and Ben believed her. Lizzie had never been one for flights of fancy. In high school, he had been certain she lacked an imagination entirely. “But at some point, the town officials need to really take a minute and own up to all the weird stuff that happens around here.”
    “Like the cattle disappearances…” Ben started, and Lizzie nodded.
    “That’s not even the half of it.”
    “Oh?”
    Lizzie took another bite of her sandwich. “It’s probably not something I should talk about,” she said. “I don’t believe half the stories I hear. I didn’t even want to write about the Moth in the paper, but you know Richard. Everything’s an opportunity . He figures if we stir up enough intrigue, we’ll pull in more people for the festival next week. More people means more revenue for the town.”
    Richard Fulwell was the grumpy asshole who had run the Gazette for the last twenty years. Ben had worked under Fulwell for two years during his brief stint on the paper, and it had been an experience, but Ben supposed most editors were as batshit crazy as old Richard, and Ben had definitely improved as a writer under Fulwell’s punitive red pen.
    “Which, of course,” Lizzie continued, “is the kind of thing the mayor and the Sheriff’s Department hate. We’re spinning the side of the story the town officials want us to bury deep in that sandpit of theirs.”
    “Guess it’s a good thing Fulwell owns the paper, then,” Ben replied with a sardonic smile.
    Lizzie laughed and sipped her coffee. “Right. He publishes what he wants.”
    “So what are the other things?” Ben asked. “I mean, aside from cattle disappearances?”
    “I thought you wanted to know about the festival?”
    “I do,” Ben said. “We can talk about that too. I guess I still like a good scary story.”
    Lizzie glanced at her watch again. “I’m sure you do. Look, I have to get back to work. But if you want a scary story, you should talk to Jack Freemont. He’s an old drunk, but the things he could tell you would make you sleep with the lights on. Says he hears all kinds of noises coming from the forest. Screeching howls that sound like children screaming.”
    Ben’s throat pinched, but he eyed Lizzie with controlled placidity. “Children screaming?”
    Lizzie stood and dusted a few crumbs off her skirt. “Yeah, crazy, right? Especially if you think about that whole disappearance with the Harper kid back in the day. It’s no wonder people are so protective of their children