Stephen Mark Rainey's Blog, page 20

The Smith River, a Haunted Island, and the Spooky Place

Almost every day, I walk somewhere between three and four miles around our neighborhood, which has done wonders for my physical and mental health. This afternoon, Ms. B. and I decided to go walking out on the Fieldale-Smith River Trail , which is my favorite of the trails in this area. In 2009 and 2010, I loaded up a mile-plus length of the trail with geocaches, and they're all still active. Yesterday, in fact, a group of geocachers found them all. Just for good measure, I decided to give each of the caches a physical check-up, and I was pleased to find them in decent condition. One of them (called "Haunted Island") involves a little tree climbing, and since that's one of my favorite physical activities, up I went (the view in the photo to the left is actually from up in the tree). I even managed to get back down.
My favorite of the trail's attractions is the view of the old Koehler Warehouse across the river on Route 57, which I've always called "The Spooky Place" because it was the site of the Martinsville Jaycees' infamous Halloween Haunted Castle when I was a teenager and a bit beyond. For a couple of tales of my sordid adventures in the Haunted Castle, you may visit my article at the Horror Writers Association Blog here . Don't be afeared... much. A view of the Spooky Place without the spooky people in the way A view of the Smith River from the trail Tree damage! A happy little community of mushrooms Ms. B. discovered

Happy, Horrific Valentine’s Day and Damned Rodan’s Madre de Dios Spiked Salsa

While St. Valentine's Day might be a real "thing" in certain religious circles, neither Ms. B. nor I see it as much more than a typical "Hallmark Holiday." Still, we love havinga handy excuse to get a little fancy, go out for dinner, and drinkwine, that kind of thing. So, every year, Brugger gives me one of her beautifulhand-made Valentine's Day cards, we get a little fancy, go out for dinner, and drink wine, that kind of thing. Last night, we treated ourselves to Rania's  uptown, which is our go-to restaurant in Martinsville when we're lookingfor something that resembles upscale. Their food is usually excellent, and it definitely hit the spot last night. A bottle of Chateau Ste Michelle Cabernet Sauvignon(2018 vintage), which was decent; Veal Scallopini for me; and Baked Ziti withMeatballs for Ms. B. The place does have a lovely atmosphere as well.
This weekend, friends Joe and Suzy are hosting a gathering where folks bring their own homemade salsa, so I spent a portion of the afternoon conjuring up Damned Rodan's Madre de Dios Spiked Salsa, which gets its heat from a combination of cayenne, jalapeno, habanero, and ghost pepper in the ingredients. I'd post the recipe if I had one, but for this, I just gathered all the stuff that one puts into fresh salsa (Campari tomatoes, onion, green onions, cilantro, lime juice, garlic, cumin, chili powder, lemon pepper, and the various peppers; chopped everything up; and threw it together in what looked like reasonable proportions. I hit the mix with our immersion blender and... voilà! Damned Rodan's Madre de Dios Spiked Salsa. The heat is not trivial, but the stuff is fookin delicious. Needless to say, I'll probably never be able to duplicate it precisely.
Spent a portion of the afternoon on the Lovecraft eZine Podcast with host Mike Davis and author Jeff Thomas, which was a blast. I hope to be meeting them both face-to-face for the first time in August at Necronomicon in Providence, RI. And I managed a fair amount of forward progress on my current novel, The House at Black Tooth Pond.
Till whenever...
L: Brugger's homemade 2024 Valentine's Day card for the Old Dude; R: Damned Rodan's homemade
Madre de Dios Spiked Salsa

DEATHREALM: SPIRITS at Lovecraft eZine!

Lovecraft eZine proprietor Mike Davis waskind enough to have me, authors Tony Tremblay andDavid Niall Wilson,andShortwave Publishing's Alan Lastufka— on his weekly podcast to talk aboutDeathrealm: Spirits and the work within. It was a fun hour and a half, full of cosmic horror,harrowing adventure, and daredevil stunts. Plus, a nice bunch of memories of thelegendary Brian Lumley , who passed away last month. Tune in!
Watch the Lovecraft eZine Podcast featuring
Deathrealm: Spirits, Brian Lumley, and More!

Number 1 and Driving High

What a day. What a freaking day. A mixture of the best and the worst rolled intoone. It began last night when friend Scott (a.k.a. Diefenbaker)came up from Asheboro to spend the night so we could head northward today to dosome serious geocaching. My daughter, Allison, also paid us a visit, and we hadan excellent sushi dinner at Yamato . Afterward, we sat up fairly late with various drinks to keep us occupieduntil bedtime.

Up and at 'em early this morning. Allison and I made breakfast—she made her special scrambled eggs and I cooked up my Damned Rodan's Crematorium-Style Bacon. Then Scott and I hit the road for Rocky Mount and Boones Mill, thirty-some miles up the road toward Roanoke. We found several enjoyable caches, a couple of which took us out on the highest, narrowest, windiest, scariest fooken mountain road I have ever driven. You know those videos of single-lane roads along cliffs, with sheer drop-offs on one side and a high vertical wall on the other? This was kind of like that. Thanks be to Yog Sothoth no vehicles came from the other direction because I fear that might have been all she wrote for us.
At the end of the scary mountain road, we had the pleasure of meeting fellow geocacher, Varunner7, since she and her husband had placed a cache on their property. A very pleasant caching conversation followed, and after a while, off we went again, back toward Rocky Mount. We found lunch at a lovely BBQ joint called the Rocky Mount Smokehouse , where Scott and I both ordered brisket. We found it delightful. Fun sign in the bathroom at the smokehouse
Several years ago, Brugger and I had gone after a cache on a huge, steep ridge on the outskirts of Rocky Mount. That cache has been long since archived, and a newer one took its place relatively recently. Since it was very close to the restaurant, Scott and I trekked up that remarkably steep incline and finally hit the summit. It's rocky as hell and covered with cactus, which isn't something you typically see around these parts. I indulged in all kinds of acrobatics in precarious settings as I set about hunting the cache—something I haven't been able to do much recently—but after a serious amount of time, we came up empty. Based on some intel we received from Ms. Varunner7, we concluded that the damned thing has already gone missing. Drat and alas.
Also in the "good shit" column, I received hopeful news about one of my recent short stories from a publisher (which I'll remark upon later, when the word is given), and, thanks to the big Bookbub promotion , which I detailed yesterday, Deathrealm: Spirits reached number 1 in sales on Amazon.com in three categories: horror anthologies (Kindle), horror anthologies (books), and fiction anthologies. It held onto that position for a full 24 hours, which is a fair achievement. It slipped a few notches for a couple of hours this evening, but then it climbed back into the lead positions.
It's the little things that make one smile, wouldn't you say?
In the "bad shit" column, which does not make me smile, Ms. B. got laid off from her job of 21 years, ignominiously and with a piss-poor severance deal. Out of respect for Kim—certainly not for the company, which gets absolutely none from me—I'll elaborate only a little. I hope this will prove a blessing in disguise, as leaving one position behind for another sometimes does. I feel horrible for her, though, because she loved that job and gave everything to it that she had to give. That she was shown no more appreciation and consideration than she was is disgraceful (note that this applies only to the parent company, not the wonderful local bunch that we both worked with for many, many years). Needless to say, this puts us in a bigger financial and logistical bind than we'd been prepared to deal with. Still, we're in a better place than many in similar circumstances, so I suppose there's that.
Anyway, tomorrow will bring what it's gonna bring, and we'll give it what for. Looking down at Rocky Mount from "Rocky Top" You might have to look carefully, but many of the rocks are covered in little cactus plants One of the crevices I explored along the cliff face Old Dude at "Rocky Top" on Christmas Day, 2011, photo by Ms. B.

DEATHREALM: SPIRITS Bookbub Deal!

From Bookbub...
With terrifying tales from Bram Stoker Award–winning authors Brian Keene, Elizabeth Massie, Joe R. Lansdale, and other masters of the genre, this recently released anthology is filled with unsettling horrors that will keep you anxiously turning pages…  Publisher Description
Deathrealm: Spirits is a horror anthology, edited by Stephen Mark Rainey, featuring new stories from genre legends Joe R. Lansdale, Elizabeth Massie, Brian Keene, Eric LaRocca, and many others.

This is the first anthology of new Deathrealm stories since the original magazine ceased publication in 1997. Once called one of the most important horror lit magazines being published at the time by acclaimed editor, Ellen Datlow, Deathrealm presented a wide variety of dark fiction.
Deathrealm: Spirits—Special Bookbub Deal—Kindle Edition, 99¢!

Pre-Dawn Muggle Madness and More

Since Ms. B.'s folks have reached that age where they need a bit more help fromtime to time, she heads to Michigan regularly to visit them. Sometimes I goalong too, but this week, she made it a solo trip. Her flight out fromGreensboro was at 6:00 a.m. yesterday morning, so we had to get ourselves up at3:30 a.m. to hit the road by 4:00 a.m. We made it to the airport just before5:00 a.m., and rather than turn right around and drive home, I decided to headeastward from Greensboro and snag a handful of geocaches.
My first stop was Burlington, a few miles east of Greensboro, where there is a newish Wherigo cache, courtesy of friend Ranger Fox. Despite the 25º-degree temp, I hoped  I might make my way through the stages without becoming an icicle. But after fifteen minutes, I still had a pretty good way to go, and even though I was reasonably bundled up, the chill and the brisk breeze convinced me that trying again at a later (warmer) time might be more prudent.
However, stopping here offered me yet another chance to experience the single-most inevitable geocaching experience of geocaching experiences: the fooking muggle sitting in his fooking car. At 5:15 in the fooking a.m., a muggle (one of the non-geocaching persuasion) drives into this otherwise totally deserted parking lot, parks his fooking vehicle, and proceeds to fooking sit while I'm going from stage to stage. It never fails when there is an otherwise totally deserted parking, does it? In this case, not necessarily a complication, since muggles will be present at this location on a regular basis. However, under these circumstances, it just reinforces the notion that there is no empty parking lot into which a muggle won't insinuate himself at precisely the wrong time. Go fooking figure.
From there, I headed farther east and snagged a handful of caches. My favorite was one in the woods along the Eno River, just east of Efland, NC. A lovely location just downriver from a dam, which was visible in the distance from the cache site. So despite the pre-dawn muggle madness, I enjoyed myself no end.
A now a week of bachelorhood, writing, and, hopefully, more geocaching. Sunrise is imminent...

Hellnotes Reviews Fugue Devil: Resurgence

Hellnotes reviewer Carson Buckingham gives Fugue Devil: Resurgence a big thumbs-up! A lovely review indeed .

"This collection from Stephen Mark Rainey is among the best ones I’ve read. Each story is a shining gem and if you enjoy Lovecraftian horror, there is much that will please you here... 5 stars—Highly recommended. Buy one for yourself and one for a friend." Fugue Devil: Resurgence Review
by Carson Buckingham at Hellnotes

Bad Behavior

Why not? I'm gonna step right up and post my thoughts sparked by the latest of the endless social media explosions because, for me, these go beyond just the immediate cases.
I dip into the social media pool fairly frequently, but I don't live on social media. I don't always see the latest kerfuffle in the literary world at the moment it happens, or block the latest persona non grata as fast as some people would like ("You need to do better!" [to be fair, not directed specifically at me, but apparently to those whose fingers don't perpetually hover on the block button]), especially when said PNG's page doesn't reveal diddly about what he or she might have done. At the risk of sounding defensive — not that I'm gonna apologize for handling my social media presence as I see fit — I use almost all my waking hours writing, editing, hiking, working at being a good husband, or doing something personally productive with my time and energy (why, yes, I am that self-centered); dealing with the perpetual weirdness of social media, while important in many ways, tends to be a lower priority.
That said, I do appreciate finding out that, yes, I should be aware of certain goings-on with so-and-so, and I'll weigh that info on its merits and act as I see fit. But I don't do that on your timetable, Mrs. Kravitz.*
Now, no one has come after me personally, but some of the vehemence among commenters I've seen implies guilt by association if you haven't jumped on the bandwagon fast enough for their liking. Transferring anger from the offender to the otherwise uninvolved does kind of chap my ass.
All that said, YES, OF COURSE, I condemn the behavior of Mr. JD Barker. He was on my friends' list, not that I can recall ever interactingwith him. I hope that my own conduct online and in-person would never suggesttacit approval of deplorable behavior.
*It occurs to me that, for the younger set, you might wanna look up Bewitched .

One Guess Less

I saw in my online "memories" post that pops up daily that, on this day in 2012, I found the geocache called " The Curse of Samarra Morgan " ( GC1QF2B ), which, in the photo at left, you can see me about to dive after it. It was located not far out of Chapel Hill, NC (and there was a lovely little graveyard nearby, which might have been handy should the worst happen at the cache site). Then it occurred to me that I've been geocaching for sixteen years this month; I found my first cache ("Groundhog Lane," now long-archived) on January 12, 2008. I'm still hard at it on a regular basis—pretty much the same geo-addict I've been ever since Day One—although I can't get out after them as much as when we lived in North Carolina, simply because there are far fewer caches in this part of Virginia to hunt. That's kind of a bummer, but since I've placed a large number around here, I visit many of them frequently to keep them well-maintained for other hunters.  This morning, on my regular daily walk, I decided to head down to the former site of one of my old geocaches, along the Smith River a couple of miles from my house. Sadly, the host of that cache, called "One Guess," is no longer tenable for a geocache (and that area is not as readily accessible as it used to be should one be driving in from some other area). The cache was up in a big sycamore, and to say that tree has seen better days is an understatement. I've always enjoyed hunting more "extreme" geocaches, and I've hidden a good many that can challenge highly experienced cachers. There were once very few caches to which I could say "no," but I will admit that, nowadays, I'm not quite as physically able to handle certain terrain types—such as culverts and storm drains and such into which I'd have to crawl. Crawling and my knees and hips no longer get along very well.
Mind you, I can still climb some trees. I love me some trees. And another cache in the same vein as "The Curse of Samara Morgan"? Bring it on! Left: The site of "One Guess," on the day I placed it in February 2012; photo by Ms. B. Right: The same tree, photo taken this morning (from the opposite angle). Notice that one whole trunk has gone missing, which was where the cache originally lurked. One Guess less...
View of the Smith River from the old cache site

WIP Excerpt: The House at Black Tooth Pond

Not very long ago, I wrote a haunted house story, titled "The House at Black Tooth Pond," for an upcoming anthology, which will be appearing later this year. I've made blog posts about the place I call Black Tooth Pond, which is inspired by an honest-to-God location here in Martinsville (the most recent blog being "Black Friday at Black Tooth Pond," Friday, November 25, 2023 ). For the story, I combined that real-life setting with another: an ancient, crumbling house my brother and I discovered not far from Martinsville in the early 1990s. I called it the House of Cabiness because, inside the place, I discovered a massive cache of old mail, all addressed to members of a certain Cabiness family. I suspect that place is long gone, since so little of it remained intact even then, but the memory of it has haunted me ever since.

The drawing above is one I did back when Brother Phred and I found the place.

I believe the story makes for a fine stand-alone tale, but the more I contemplated the idea, it felt like one that could be expanded into a full-length novel. So, quite recently, I set about scheming and plotting and plotting and scheming, and I came up with a workable novel project. At the moment, I'm roughly 30k words into the writing, so I thought I'd offer a little excerpt. Here she be:

#

As Martin sauntered along the walkway, mostly looking at his feet, he heard a deep, booming voice rising above the soft student babble around him. The voice was shouting, “Sinners, take heed! The end times are near! Take heed, all of ye!”

Oh, hell. One of the endless supply of proselytizers that seemed to target the campus more and more lately. They’d always been around, maybe even more so back in his university days, but there recently seemed to have been a resurgence.

The voice came from a huge, black-suited man, with wide, glittering eyes beneath a heavy brow. He stood on the walkway just shy of the stairs to Reynolds Hall. Unless Martin diverted around to the side door, he couldn't avoid walking directly in front of the fellow. In one hand, the man held a thick sheaf of papers—flyers or tracts, no doubt. None of the students passing nearby appeared to take even the vaguest notice of him.

Good for them.

As he approached, he kept his eyes down and walked by without the fellow taking any special notice of him.

Until he reached the stairs of Reynolds Hall. And then the deep voice bellowed, “Beware, Dr. Pritchett, the doom that came to Eden, the country of the snake!”

Martin whirled around, incredulous, and saw the figure standing on the walkway with one arm outstretched, pointing directly toward him.

“Do you not know what you have disturbed, Dr. Pritchett?"

He took a few steps back toward the towering figure. He’d never seen the man before in his life. How could he know his name? Maybe a former student? No. He didn't think so.

But those words. Martin knew them. They came from the pages he’d taken from the House of Cabiness. But no one besides his brother could be privy to what he’d done. No one else could have been out there to see him. Who could possibly know what was written on those ancient sheets?

No one.

No one alive.

#