Who’s your favorite cryptid?

He’s seven feet tall. His eyes glow red. He might have caused the catastrophic collapse of the Silver Bridge into the Ohio River in 1967 — but I love him. I’m referring of course to my favorite cryptid, Mothman.

Mothman is the monstrous mascot of Point Pleasant, West Virginia, a place I’ve never visited and have no personal connection to. Yet Mothman is my No. 1 spook because I like moths and appreciate his science fiction vibes. B-movies are full of young couples taking ill-advised drives through the woods in the 1960s, and that’s exactly how Mothman’s first witnesses spotted him one November night: looming on a deserted road before swooping after their car at 100 mph.

Local newspapers coined Mothman’s name, small town hysteria set in, and a cultural icon was born. He’s had books and film adaptations but never saw a penny in royalties — he vanished around 1968. Some locals attributed the deadly Silver Bridge disaster to his supernatural intervention, and apparently even humanoid moths understand laying low after a PR scandal.

Cryptids are creatures in worldwide folklore that defy explanation, taxonomy and sometimes common sense. Plenty of people claim to have seen them in the flesh, fur or scales, and still more are there for the hype. I’m in the second category. I’d love to attend Point Pleasant’s Mothman Festival, visit the Mothman Museum or pose with the town’s giant Mothman statue.

Unfortunately, all those are 500 miles away, so for the sake of my budget maybe I’ll seek out a nice Missouri cryptid instead. A quick internet search reveals the bigfoot-like Momo (short for “Missouri Monster”) from the town of Louisiana; a horned puma called the Ozark Howler closer to home; and the Joplin spook lights, which could be anything from car headlights to ghostly lanterns.

Are any of these real? I think that depends on your definition of “real.” Cryptids have real staying power for people, and followings of fans, skeptics and believers alike. They are modern folklore, and unlike Halloween monsters, aren’t confined to October. I think they appeal to our imaginations because we want to encounter wild and unknown things in the woods and our minds. Everyone loves a good monster.

When I finally visit Point Pleasant it won’t be to meet a moth the size of a pro wrestler, but to enjoy the best kind of real storytelling can offer: real fun.

Samantha Tucker is the assistant editor of the Daily American Republic. She can be reached at stucker@darnews.com.