Dear Mothman,

I pretended to believe in you for Lewis.

I am hoping though that maybe he was right-

that he really did see you once on that sleepover in November

when frigid wind howled through the forest and everything was bare. He pointed out my window saying

"Look, Noah, look! Do you see him?" I didn't see you but I fibbed and said, "I think I do!"

Lewis has been gone for three months now but sometimes I still don't believe it's real.

Tonight, I walked outside in the chilly March rain. If Lewis were here

he would have told me I was so weird for not wearing a jacket. Mothman, do you

wear jackets? Do you ever get cold? If you do get cold

you aren't like me. Do you wear a chest binder or do you bind with

great broad leaves from deep in the forest?

Lewis was sure you were queer like us.

If you're not, that is OK too.

I just want to know you're there.

I'm going to lay my journal at the foot of this tree tonight for you to read my letter.

Lewis always said

you loved to come out during thunderstorms

and tonight is the first storm of the spring. If I'm going to find you

for my science fair project this is my chance.

The fair is coming up soon and I don't have any other ideas.

All I can think of anymore is Lewis.

Lewis loved to see veins of light pulse across the sky.

He was never afraid.

I am not like him.

I am afraid

of lightning

and thunder

and the dark woods

and even a little bit

of the thought you could be real

but still

I'm writing "Dear Mothman" on the journal cover

so you'll know it's for you.



Before Mom and Dad get up I rush outside in my pajamas to get the journal.

My feet get soaked by the morning dew.

Everything smells green.

I find the journal open to my letter for Mothman.

My pulse quickens.

I think

it must have been the breeze

or maybe a squirrel

that opened the journal


what if it wasn't?

I'm shaking the thought away.

After all, how would Mothman find

my journal

on the first night

I left a note for him unless he was also


for me?

The thought creeps me out a little.

I collect the book--

still damp

from the dew and rain

and I dash inside.

I'm thinking maybe I'll leave one more letter.

Dear Mothman,

Thank you for reading the first letter though I am kind of wondering how you found the journal so quickly.

Maybe you miss Lewis too.

Maybe you knew him.

Maybe I can tell you more about him and then you can tell me more too.

Lewis was the first person who understood me.

One recess, he told me he decided his name was "Lewis" and not "Ella."

I said, "Why Lewis?" and he said

"After Lewis Carroll, he wrote Alice in Wonderland." I thought that was such a good reason for a name.

It is also a good name for Lewis because

he's got a huge giant imagination.

I don't want to say it "was" a good name because even though Lewis is gone It's still a good name for him and I still talk about Lewis.

After he read Alice in Wonderland, he told me he followed a rabbit into the woods by his house down to a new Wonderland.

I believed him because he told me so many details like mushrooms that spoke their own languages and a tea that tasted like cherry juice.

Later, Lewis explained he was just imagining it. I wished I was that good at imagining.

My name was "Nora."

Well, my name still is kind of "Nora" or maybe it always was "Nora." I don't know how names really work.

I told Lewis my new name was "Noah" and he said, "After Noah's Ark?" and I said, "Yes, like Noah's Ark because I love animals."

Dear Mothman, Robin Gow