Wednesday, February 19, 2025

A Fine New Review of THE HOUSE AT BLACK TOOTH POND at CEMETERY DANCE!

Thanks to reviewer David Simms for the wonderful review! Check it out...

“Stephen Mark Rainey is one of the greatest unsung masters of the genre and has churned out solid, entertaining work for decades. From Deathrealm magazine in the eighties and nineties to several dozen short stories to many novels that both embraced the classics and pushed the envelope, he has carved out his own piece of horror history... Recommended reading from an author who always delivers.” 

Saturday, February 15, 2025

From St. Augustine to the Bahamas, Part 2

Red Carpet Inn kitty
Monday, February 10, 2025
'Tis the day for leaving the land for the open seas. We didn't exactly rise with the sun this morning, but neither did we dawdle departing our Fort Lauderdale lodgings. Before we left, a local feral cat took up what we assume was his traditional lounging spot outside our door; he was not at all keen on being handled, but he appeared otherwise healthy and seemed comfortable enough around us (he probably knew we were cat people). I hope he will be okay for the long haul.

During our single-night stay in Fort Lauderdale, we had only a limited view of the city, and I'm sure there are plenty of lovely places for residents and visitors alike to enjoy, but we mainly experienced Just Another City in Florida, as apart from St. Augustine, they seem to blend one into another into another into another along the state's eastern coast.
 
Check-in on the ship went smoothly, so once settled into our suite, we headed for lunch in the Windjammer, the standard Royal Caribbean buffet-style restaurant on board. A very good martini accompanied. Afterward, Terry and I planted ourselves in the exclusive Crown Club lounge, (membership to which is one of the perks he & Beth have earned for cruising, like, a lot, and which fortunately extends to their guests of peasant status). We hung out for about an hour, drank coffee, and yakked until we both finally had to get up and go pee.

Dinner was in the main restaurant, and we secured a table in a nice, quiet corner where we met a nice couple, Andy and Mary Beth from Missouri. I had some excellent escargot and some sad fried chicken. Can't win 'em all, I reckon. The drinks were superb. Afterward, we settled ourselves in the Irish Pub, Hoof & Claw, for a couple of 1970s trivia contests, one for music and one for general history. Our foursome won both (these people are really old). Then we wandered about the ship, listening to tunes, dancing (well, some of us did; not me), and finally returned to our quarters for a hard crash and burn.
View of Fort Lauderdale from the lounge of the Liberty of the Seas, prior to departure

Tuesday, February 11, 2025
On a not-at-all-cruise-related topic, today is release day for my newest novel, The House at Black Tooth Pond, from Crossroad Press, in paperback and ebook, with the audiobook to come soon. Preorders have been healthy, and the response from those who've already delved into it is enthusiastic. To be sure, I hope this thing flies like Rodan, the Flying Monster. If you've been good enough to pick up the book, might I please prevail upon you further to leave a review, particularly on Amazon.com, since it is, for better or for worse, the most strategic sales outlet.

For Terry and me, our morning began pretty early. While Ms. B. and Beth slept in, he and I went down to Chops Grille, one of the ship's many restaurants, which offers free breakfasts to suite guests. It was fairly good—scrambled eggs, bacon, hash browns, toast, and lots of coffee; satisfying but not superlative, which is typical of cruise ship food. Afterward, we decided to try our luck at the casino. I've always been partial to Blackjack, so I spent 30 or 40 minutes at the table; I was in the black for a little bit, but as so often happens, I stuck around just long enough to lose a wee bit. Thankfully, it really was a wee bit. I've got lots of chips left, so I will be returning for a rematch, probably this evening.

I needed my regular daily exercise, so I did some laps around the ship until I reached my goal of 5,000 steps (and I put in a few extra). I've averaged over 9K a day on this trip, and by tonight, I will have no doubt put in quite a few more. The Liberty is not at all a small boat, so I get almost 1,000 steps per lap around the deck.
The gang decided that, since we have free room service in the suite, we should have lunch delivered. And we did. Smoked potato soup and butternut squash risotto for me. The soup was better than the risotto. We shared a couple of bottles of Italian red wine—an Amarone and a Nebbiolo—both of which were superb. Then some folks went for naps and some went for blogging. The latter might have been me.
Celebratory toast to the success of The House at Black Tooth Pond. Good wine!
Moon over the Caribbean, viewed from the lounge of
the Liberty of the Seas

As afternoon moved toward evening, we settled in at the Suites Lounge and had a few nibbles along with a couple of drinks. They make a killer gin martini here (several of them, as a matter of fact). We finally dragged ourselves over to dinner, and tonight I destroyed some delicious calamari and a seafood linguine, which was probably the best dish I've had on the ship so far. The service, as always, was exemplary. Andy and Mary Beth again provided pleasurable dinnertime companionship.

For afters, Terry and I again ventured to the casino, and this time I won at least most of my money back from this morning. There was a bourbon tasting at the nearby duty-free shop, but it was only a couple of shots of Jack Daniels green label and Jack Daniels single-malt, the latter of which was actually pretty good, though I didn't consider either a necessary purchase.

By now, we all had worked up a pretty good tired, so we retired to our quarters, where I finished up today's blog entry. All in all, an invigorating and satisfying day, particularly since the announcements I posted about The House at Black Tooth Pond seemed to be especially well received. Tomorrow, CocoCay in the Bahamas. And me, I'm bushed, so g'night.

Wednesday, February 12, 2025
Ship butts

We woke up to see the Royal Caribbean–owned CocoCay Port outside our windows rather than open sea. We had ordered a continental breakfast to be delivered to our room, so once we snarfed it down, we made our way down to the gangway and over to CocoCay. First target for me (and Terry, who accompanied me to make sure I didn't fall into the ocean and drown) was a number of Adventure Lab cache stages, which turned out to be quick and easy.

There are several beach areas on CocoCay, so we found a nice, shady spot for our base of operations. Brugger and I soon wandered out into the crystal blue water...which turned out to be pretty icy, at least at first. We heard—second hand, so I can't really verify it—that there was a shark watch for our beach, so we didn't paddle out but so deep, and not for too long. We saw no sharks, but Kim and I bounced a lot of lines from Jaws off each other. Mostly, we hung out on the beach, drank spritzes, and had a nice lunch from the nearby pavilion.

Mid-afternoon, we returned to the ship. Terry and I woke ourselves back up with a couple of mugs of Juan Valdez in the Suites Lounge, while our respective spouses took power naps.
Chill Island Beach on CocoCay
Royal Caribbean's Liberty of the Seas (our ship, on the left) and Voyager of the Seas (on the right)
Thursday, February 13, 2025
The view from our suite balcony first thing this morning
The Nassau Cathedral.
Do you see the geocache?

As is typical when we're on a cruise, we woke up to a new view outside our balcony this morning—a whole bunch of cruise ships packed in tight at the Nassau port. Ours was one of several already docked and another one—a Disney ship—came steaming in as I watched.

That meant the Nassau cruise port was crowded as motherfuck.

After another continental breakfast in our suite, I headed into town to hunt a few caches. There were several Adventure Lab stages, a couple of virtuals, and a physical cache, which lurked at the nearby cathedral. The sanctuary was the only place I found in this teeming madhouse of a town that was relatively serene; in fact, I sat in a pew for a bit so I could write my cache log. As far as caching went, success on all counts. Terry and Beth opted to stay on board the ship today, but eventually, Ms. B. arrived on the scene. We found ourselves a taxi over to nearby Paradise Island and the Atlantis Resort, which is a sprawling, luxury development, with a grand hotel, a massive outdoor aquarium, casino, shops, restaurants, a harbor full of massive yachts (none of them are mine, at least not yet), and a virtual cache.
Non-Euclidean horror guarding the entrance of
the Atlantis Casino; this might give me second
thoughts about gambling there.

Oddly, almost all the restaurants in the surrounding area were closed, even at noon. We finally found a tropical-themed spot called Sip-Sip, which was open, where I had some of the best chicken wings I've ever tasted. The server asked if I was okay with a lot of spice, and of course I am, but these really weren't that spicy. The flavor, though... hooooey! All kinds of good.

After our lunch, we navigated to the virtual cache, which is at the western end of the Atlantis, but I've gotta say, getting to that point from the eastern end took some doing. We went through the outdoor aquarium, which is in itself a labyrinth, but a very cool one. We saw sharks, manta rays, stingrays, horseshoe crabs, and all kinds of exotic fish. Eventually, we figured out how to reach our target, and I gathered the information necessary to claim the cache.

By then, Ms. B. and I had grown weary of the oppressive crowds, so we took a taxi (filled to the brim with people!) back to the port and fought our way back aboard the Liberty. I finally managed to revive myself with a shower and worked on the blog for a bit.

My impression of Nassau from today was not that favorable, but I might sing a different tune when the place is not so jam-packed with tourists (assuming there's ever a slow time). It's fair to say that Nassau has changed radically in the 60 years since Thunderball was made (it's one of my favorite James Bond films), but I admit I had the movie theme going through my head as I wandered the town caching. I'd certainly be willing to give the place another shot, if we ever have the opportunity, though there are certainly many other destinations I'd put well out in front.

Tonight, being our last night on board, we kept things pretty mellow. Terry and I visited the casino for a last fling, and for a refreshing change, I am coming home in the black, gambling-wise. I'll take it!
The cathedral interior; it was the only peaceful place I found in Nassau the entire day
A few yachts in the harbor near Sip-Sip at Atlantis
Holy cow, a spot that's not teeming with human beings!
Stingray at the Atlantis Aquarium
Old Dude and Brugger at the Atlantis Casino (we did not gamble).
L) Ms. B. hanging with another monster at the Casino; R) Pirate Republic ale at Sip-Sip
 
Friday, February 14–Saturday, February 15, 2025
Once we disembarked from the ship, we found a fantastic breakfast in Fort Lauderdale at Joe's Diner (which comes complete with signs bearing the iconic "Eat at Joe's" slogan). Since Terry and Beth have another cruise coming up in a couple of days, they had booked themselves a small AirBnB not far from the cruise port, and we accompanied them there to hang out until it was time for us to leave for the airport. Before heading out, Brugger and I walked to a nearby park and snagged a geocache.

At last, it was time to say goodbye to our friends. At FLL, Ms. B. and I checked in and found that our flights appeared to be on schedule. The first leg took us to Charlotte, where we had time for an early supper and a drink before the connecting flight into Greensboro.

Well, there was supposed to be a flight to Greensboro.

We boarded the plane on time, sat for a little bit, and then the pilot announced that the co-pilot had not shown up, so they were canceling the flight. As you might imagine, it was a disgruntled bunch of passengers that turned around and marched back off the plane. Only thing is, American Airlines had not officially canceled the flight, so the gate crew advised us to hang out for a while until they received the official verdict from the tower.

Yep, canceled.

So, we—along with everyone else on the flight—had to visit the customer service desk to make alternate arrangements. Charlotte is less than a couple of hours' drive to Greensboro, and numerous people decided to rent cars. However, doing so meant that American Airlines would not offer any reimbursement. They told us that if we rebooked our flights for the next day, they'd give us vouchers for a hotel, Uber rides there and back, and two meals at the airport restaurants. Our luggage would be sent to Greensboro on the first flight out the next day, so it would probably precede our arrival.

Though it was mighty inconvenient, we opted for the latter, with a flight to GSO at 9:35 a.m. on Saturday. Since all our clothes were in our checked bags, we nothing to wear but the clothes on our backs, though—thank Yog!—we had carried small necessities, such as our medications, toothbrushes, electronic devices, and such with us as we always do. Anyhoo, while this mess was a major pain in the ass, I'll reluctantly give AAL credit for living up to their end of the bargain as far as finally getting us back home.

Regardless, American is pretty much on my shit list because, in the last three years, every significant flight foul-up I've experienced has happened on American. I'd written them off a while back, but we did decide to give them another shot last year, and they came through with flying colors.

Not this time, alas.
#
Over several years, we've taken quite a few big trips with Terry and Beth, and there is little better than traveling to distant places with such good friends. The mood on this trip has felt a little different, though, what with that orange trash and his goons occupying the Oval Office and what could rightly be called a coup by a puppet dictator going on in real time around us. We've really loved this respite from the stress, and I'm excited about my new book having hit the streets, but the world, and especially our country, are entering a period unlike any in my lifetime, and I don't know that any of us are going to come out of this mess unscathed, some far worse than others.

Well...we're doing our best not to withdraw to preserve our sanity but to fight the good fight—whatever and however we feel is the best way. Because without a concerted effort by many, I fear we may be fucked for a long, long time to come.


Adios for now.

Friday, February 14, 2025

From St. Augustine to the Bahamas, Part 1

Almost exactly a year ago, circumstances looked favorable for Ms. B. and me to plan another trip to places far and wide with friends and regular travel companions, Terry & Beth. They had been hoping to go to the Caribbean for some time, so we committed to taking this trip with them. We made reservations, put money down, and decided that, since it was a relatively short cruise (four days), we would visit St. Augustine for several days beforehand.

Then Brugger got laid off from her job at The Mailbox (the company where we'd worked together for well over a decade), and, concurrently, I lost my lucrative freelance gig with them. Still, since we'd lose a prohibitive amount of money if we opted to cancel, we figured we'd carry through with our plan. So...fookin' onward it is.
The logsheet of "Knock Knock Let Me In" (GCAZNPV)


Thursday, February 6, 2025
Departure day. Brugger and I rose about dawn, tossed our stuff in the car, and drove from Martinsville to Terry & Beth's place in Kernersville. We wasted no time transferring our belongings to their vehicle and getting our asses on the road. The first part of the trip was easy enough; I found a cache at a rest area, and we stopped for a tolerable lunch at J's Corner in Columbia. Afterward, though, traffic picked up considerably, and we ran into a few snags, particularly around Jacksonville, FL, where a car had crashed and burned up real good. Still, in general, the drive wasn't intolerable, and we made decent time—for Ms. B. and me, a total of about nine hours. Once we arrived at our lodgings, a nice AirBnB in north St. Augustine, we unpacked and then set forth to find dinner, as the Great Starvation was upon us. We opted for a nice restaurant in the Spanish Quarter called Forgotten Tonic, which had great atmosphere and mostly delicious food. I had a big-ass burger with havarti cheese, bacon, pickles, and other goodies on a big old pretzel roll. Then a supply run at a nearby grocery store.

By now, we were all feeling pretty wiped, but there was a geocache only a quarter-mile from our lodgings, so I decided to walk after it. Interestingly, some fellow geocachers of our acquaintance from back home—known as The Border Reivers—had just been to the cache a couple of days ago. I signed the log beneath their entry, then returned to the AirBnB to pen this little portion of blog, and then crashed.

B-b-boom!
Feeling blue at GCAZNPV
Friday, February 7, 2025
Home away from home—our St. Augustine AirBnB
Although the AirBnB is very comfortable, particularly the bed, I unfortunately had a poor night's sleep, due to some persistent, niggling physical issues; hopefully, nothing serious. Anyhoo, once up, about, and fortified with coffee, I felt reasonably human again. After a breakfast of biscuits and cinnamon butter, which Beth had brought home from last night's restaurant dinner, we set sail for the historical district and commenced to wandering. Eventually, we settled in for lunch at a decent Italian-ish restaurant called Pizzalley's Chianti Room, where Brugger and I split a fig & prosciutto pizza, which was delicious. Then we opted to separate for a while, some of us to go shopping, some of us to go geocaching (guess who did what).
St. Augustine Basilica

I hunted and found quite a few caches; in fact, I just about cleaned up the entire historical district. (There really aren't that many here, so this wasn't a particularly impressive feat.) They were all fun, though, and I added seven or eight finds to my Florida cache count. We regrouped at a nice wine bar called Bin 39, but because it's pretty hot and muggy here, I felt more in the cold, refreshing beer mode. Found a Hibiscus Wheat Ale that really hit the spot. From there, we headed for an art gallery/wine bar called The Bart on Aviles (Bar plus Art equals Bart) and split a bottle of California GSM, which hit the spot.

Again, some wandering. After a time, for dinner, we settled on Prohibition Kitchen, right next to Pazzalley's. At first, we were a little leery because their live music, though mellow in character, was really, REALLY loud. However, the very kind staff there seated us in the balcony at the far back of the restaurant, which was perfect, as far as acoustics and intimacy go. Since I've not consumed a healthy morsel since we got here, I ordered a veggie sandwich (corned beets and spicy datil pepper slaw), though it came with yet more fries, which have accompanied every meal so far. I love me some fries, but I think I've hit the wall. Exceptionally high marks for this restaurant—very good food and service that couldn't be beat.
The Usual Suspects at Bin 39
Given that this is my first visit to St. Augustine, I wasn't quite sure what to expect. I must say, in general, I love the city's character. Lots of history and culture, blended with the best of contemporary food, drink, shops, and other attractions; touristy in places, but not overwhelming (at least at this time of year; at peak season, the crowds are probably oppressive). Our lodgings are as comfortable as any we've had anywhere we've traveled—convenient to everything, but situated on a quiet, picturesque avenue, with plenty of amenities. Terry and Beth have been here several times, and I understand what draws them back for repeated visits. I expect that we'll return at some point in the future.

Sadly, unless the local geocachers add some caches to the landscape, any future caching here is likely to be disappointing.

My only real caveat about the place is the prevalence, at least in certain areas, of right-wing exhibitions of outright hatred, particularly from local businesses. The most egregious I saw was a sign on a restaurant that read "Dimmycrats are the evil within!" This kind of shit is why we can't have the proverbial nice things. So often, I hear that liberals are the ones who spread lies and hatred; but in my experience, all evidence points to precisely the opposite—in the real world as well as the virtual. I've never, ever seen public displays anywhere as vile and hate-filled from the left, whereas it's become more and more commonplace to see it from the right. So don't ever, EVER tell me that the right is not spreading hatred and division because that is absolutely verifiable bullshit.

And that's my closing for today. More tomorrow.
Haunted Inn in the historic quarter
Bustling St. George Street
A troupe of dastardly, evil, murderous sociopaths running loose in the streets of St. Augustine
Saturday, February 8, 2025
What IS that? (GCAAEC)
A virtual cache lurked about a half mile up the road from our place, so once I was up and had downed a jumbo-sized coffee, I set out on foot to see if I might find what I needed to claim the cache. GZ looked like a pump station for the city water system, but amid it all, there was monument to an individual who had apparently died while saving a child from some industrial accident at that site back in the 1980s. Not something one might expect to see at that particular location. Anyhoo, success! I recorded the necessary information to log the find and hoofed back to the house.
Old Rodan and the Old Senator

After we were all sufficiently caffeinated and felt up to the task, we ventured down to the historical quarter, circled the same block several times looking for parking (which we finally managed), and sought lunch at a nice little joint near Flagler College called The Floridian, recommended to us by an old friend from our days working at The Mailbox, as she'd gone to school at Flagler. I found their brisket tacos quite good, if not quite up to the standard of Catrina's (in Mebane, NC).

The rest of the gang needed to do some shopping and drinking, so Terry drove us a little ways north of town and I set out on foot for a half-dozen geocaches within about a mile radius of our drop-off point. I hoofed it to several very fun caches, including one at the Fountain of Youth Archaeology Park, another at the Old Jail Museum, and another at "Old Senator," a roughly 600-year old live oak tree. I knocked out a few others nearby and then headed back to meet up with the rest of the gang at Carrera Wine Cellar on San Marco St. This turned out to be a colorful, enjoyable place, and I ended up having a lengthy conversation with one of the local folks who was apparently something of a horror fan. She was particularly taken with the fact that I'd written some Dark Shadows books and audio drama scripts, since she'd been a huge DS fan back in the dark ages. Fun shit.
The St. Augustine Lighthouse at sunset

At last, we headed out to the St. Augustine Lighthouse & Maritime Museum, where I hunted yet another fun cache and the other folks went shopping (again). Right at sunset, the lighthouse lit up, which made for a lovely early evening sight. By the time we headed back toward town, the evening tourist/dinner rush was well under way, so it was a slow ride across the bridge over the Matanzas River.

For dinner, we chose Casa Reina Taqueria, which turned out to be one hell of a popular place. We had over an hour wait, but once in, they seated us on a second-floor balcony with a scenic view of the city. Since I'd had tacos at lunch, I opted for chicken with rice, beans, guacamole, pico de gallo, and tomatillo salsa, which was delicious—particularly once I added some of their homemade hot sauce, which was delicious, though not that hot.

And that was pretty much our day's adventure. Tomorrow, we're heading for Fort Lauderdale, and the day following, onto Royal Caribbean's Liberty of the Seas for a four-day cruise to the Caribbean (specifically, CocoCay and Nassau). Hopefully, we'll avoid any unpleasant snags.

Till tomorrow!

Heading for Ponce de Leon's Fountain of Youth
On the balcony at Casa Reina
A couple of old folks at Longboards in Melbourne, FL

Sunday, February 9, 2025
Terry and I rose almost with the sun so we could venture out for an early breakfast. We had settled on a little breakfast joint less than half a mile from our lodgings, but to our dismay, we found it was closed. So, we wandered most of another mile down the road to the local Denny's, where we indulged in a couple of cardiac-attack breakfasts—eggs, bacon, hash browns, and pancakes (cinnamon swirl slapjacks for me; quite delicious). Then we waddled back to our place.

Alas, it was time to bid adios to St. Augustine. We particularly enjoyed our AirBnB lodgings; very clean, spacious, attractive, comfortable, and very reasonably priced. Top marks to our hosts. From St. Augustine to Fort Lauderdale is a couple of hundred miles and some change, but we took a few turns for vittles, gas, and geocaches. We went into Melbourne for lunch on the beachfront at a place called Longboards, which had a most appealing ambiance, though the service was slower than a salted slug trying to run uphill. The food, though, was delicious. I had a platter of the biggest and best steamed shrimp I've ever tasted.

We ran into very heavy traffic on our approach to Fort Lauderdale, but eventually we made it to our lodgings: a nicely priced, reasonably comfortable inn close to the interstate, airport, and cruise port. Once checked in, we set out in search of dinner. We'd found what looked like a very nice bistro not far from our inn—a hotel restaurant, it turned out—but when we arrived, the menu barely resembled the one posted online, they were out of cheese, and hopelessly understaffed. After waiting at our table for twenty minutes without acknowledgment, we decided to ride over to a nearby Outback Steakhouse, the very act of which went against our long-held tradition of avoiding chains in favor of local establishments, but by this time, it was getting very late, and the Great Starvation had settled upon us. The food and service turned out to be very good.

The need for additional wine for our upcoming adventure was strong, so we found a nearby Total Wine—the biggest Total Wine I've ever seen, actually—and commenced to shopping. A cache lurked on the premises, so I snagged it for good measure. Once back at our hotel, I decided to hoof it after a couple of caches less than a mile away. As I made my way toward one of the caches, I noticed a laser-like spotlight aimed into the sky, no doubt from the airport, which is less than a mile from our hotel. Not sure of its significance, but I found it very cool looking. I managed to turn up both caches without undue difficulty, and then trucked back to our room for a goodnight glass of wine.

And tomorrow, lord willing, it'll be off to the Caribbean.

Tuesday, February 11, 2025

Release Day—THE HOUSE AT BLACK TOOTH POND


It's here—release day for my newest novel, The House at Black Tooth Pond! Now available in paperback and ebook, with the audiobook to come.

“Welcome to Aiken Mill, Virginia—The Cold Case Capital of the World.”  
A mutilated, unidentifiable body has turned up in this legend-haunted town in the mountains of southwestern Virginia. During his investigation, Sheriff Bryce Parrott uncovers a series of frightening clues that lead him to believe that some inhuman force may be responsible for the gruesome murder.

While exploring the darkest corners of Sylvan County, psychology professor Martin Pritchett and his brother, Phillip, happen upon a crumbling, century-old house beside a dark body of water called Black Tooth Pond. A strange compulsion leads both men back to the house time and time again, but neither can remember any of the events that occur there.

As both Sheriff Parrott and the Pritchett brothers attempt to solve their respective mysteries, their paths begin to converge—paths that lead directly to the ancient, foreboding house at Black Tooth Pond.

The word on the street...
"Author Stephen Mark Rainey takes the abandoned house in the woods trope and turns it inside out as the walls of the House at Black Tooth Pond close in on the reader page by page, scene by scene. Rainey tells a dark, claustrophobic story bursting with atmosphere, with just enough dread to keep horror fans satisfied, and mystery to whet the appetites of thriller fans."—Michael Laimo, author of Dark Ride, Missed Connection, The Demonologist, and others

"Stephen Mark Rainey's The House of Black Tooth Pond dwells at the intersection between the traditional haunted house story and tales of cosmic dread, expertly combining both into a frightening, genre-bending novel that both thrills and chills.—Peter Rawlik, author of Reanimators, Reanimatrix, The Book of Yig

"What T.E.D. Klein did for Lovecraftian horror set in upstate New York and NYC, Stephen Mark Rainey does for the rural South."—Leverett Butts, author of Guns of the Waste Land

"Stephen Mark Rainey's talent is on display here like never before. His masterful use of imagery transported me to Sylvan County. I heard the eerie cry of the whippoorwill, the cry that marks the presence of an evil entity that roams the woods and lurks within the walls of the house at Black Tooth Pond. You will hear it too."—Mike Davis, Lovecraft eZine

"I read The House at Black Tooth Pond in one sitting—it was that exciting and that frightening. Think of a traditional haunted house story but on LSD."—Carson Buckingham, Hellnotes
My rendering of the actual structure on which "The House at Black Tooth Pond" is based

Friday, February 7, 2025

Now Available: The Horror Collection: Crystal Edition


KJK Publishing
has just released its latest entry in their Horror Collection anthology series—Volume 22, The Crystal Edition. This one features my frightful little tale, "Magic Eye," along with these horrific gems:

"Chasing the Dragon" by Brian Moreland
"Frozen in Terror" by Devin Cabrera
"Headed North" by Sarah Jules
"Mistral" by Mark Morris
"Nightmare Channel" by Lee Mountford
"Dummy" by Jeff Strand
"Misophonia" by Veronica Smith
"Gracious Mother" by Stephen Barnard
"Remembering Falls" by Zachary Ashford
"In Three Days" by Thomas Stewart
"The Devereauxs" by Lisa Breanne
"Unnatural Selection" By Gord Rollo
"Celebrity Skin" by Harrison Phillips
"Winter’s Whistle" by Dexter McLeod

Wednesday, February 5, 2025

Fire in the City

Many years ago, mainly back in my college days, I wrote songs, which I performed on guitar and wailed along with real loud. It's been a long time since I even touched an instrument, but a few years back, I played semi-regularly in various public venues, sometimes accompanied by Ms. B. (some of you poor wretches may recall this). One of the last songs I ever wrote (probably 1987, when I lived in Chicago) was called "Fire in the City," and it was largely about my difficulties dealing with the chronic madness of the human species as I saw it at the time. But never has there been a more challenging time to live with said chronic madness than today—and it's at a level far beyond any I could have imagined in my youthful and certainly more optimistic days.

In July 2018, at one of the singer/songwriter events hosted by the now sadly defunct Daily Grind in Martinsville, I played "Fire in the City," which Ms. B. bravely recorded. I'm gonna post it here just because it is my personal statement for today. The sound quality is only so-so, but listen if you wish, or don't; I can't guarantee the performance won't harm your eardrums.

Fire in the City
The chilling air is hot with sound
As snow turns the ceiling gray
People crawl through streets of ice
How hard it is not to hate

Snail’s pace is the pulse of the city
Sounds of traffic grow and fade
Wintry voices slash my ears
How hard it is not to hate

People laugh and people cry
But I have turned my eyes away
Compare their lives against the truth
How hard it is not to hate

Pollution of the heart and mind
Runs rampant in the human haze
And drowning in this sea of life
How hard it is not to hate

Some release would help the heat
That rises up within
But the burning fire below is lost
And smothered by the snow

Sunday, February 2, 2025

Signs of the Sasquatch and Others

This past couple of weeks have been stressful for both Ms. B. and me, sometimes in the extreme, with daily salvos of sheer lunacy from that fucking orange shitgibbon in the oval office. I've tried to find a good balance between staying informed and retreating to recharge my mental health. I'm pretty much picking my battles and avoiding the dreaded "doomscroll," as they say. But it's clear that we are in for unprecedented hard times, and, quite frankly, I'm not sure the country as a whole is capable of weathering it. Without question, many of us will suffer great (and such goddamn needless) hardship. On top of that, we've had a couple of expensive household breakdowns that aren't improving my spirits.

I'm focusing as much as possible on my fiction writing while also writing my senators and congressmen. We'll be taking a Caribbean trip fairly soon, which we reserved about a year ago, so I hope that will help with the recharging (though if we'd had any inkling at the time our income would be less and our expenses more, I think we would have changed our plans). Last night friend Scott (a.k.a. Diefenbaker) came up from Asheboro, NC, and spent the night so we could make a geocaching trip to Roanoke today. Scott hadn't found a couple of my nearby caches, so we hoofed it out to them, and he made the finds without help from me (meaning that, even though he's older than the hills, his geocaching eyes are still pretty good). Once back home, I made a killer batch of spicy Thai beef. And while we sampled several bourbons from the bar downstairs, we watched an eclectic assortment of music videos on YouTube, all of which elevated our spirits.
The No-Dead-Weight Irregulars at the famous
Mill Mountain Star

This morning, we headed out fairly early, drove to Roanoke, and met friend Natalie (a.k.a. Fishdownthestairs), thus completing our traditional trio, known to some as the No-Dead-Weight Irregulars. We spent most of the day at Mill Mountain, navigating its numerous trails on the hunt for geocaches of various types, including traditional, virtual, and Adventure Lab. Mill Mountain is best known for the almost 90-foot Roanoke Star at its summit, which is visible for many miles around, particularly when it is illuminated at night.

We put in about five miles on the mountain, with terrain that ranged from medium difficulty to downright rugged. Sadly, we bombed out on our very first hunt, as the cache appeared to be missing; however, for the rest of the day, we managed to claim all our targets. My favorite was a Bigfoot-themed cache called "Signs of the Sasquatch" (GC76KTA), although we never laid eyes on Bigfoot himself (even though, against the sign's admonition, we oftentimes left the marked trails).

When I was a wee lad, my parents took me to the Mill Mountain Zoo (although I have little memory of it), and when I was a student at Ferrum College, not too far from Roanoke, some friends and I drove to the top of the mountain and smoked pot in some secluded corner; but since then, I had never gone back. I didn't even know the zoo still existed, and we saw nothing of it today, not that zoos hold any particular allure for me.

After we had hiked ourselves out, we drove back down the mountain and found a late lunch at a nice little tavern called Fork in the Alley, where I went to town on their Inferno Burger and fries, accompanied by a Devil's Backbone Vienna Lager, all of which hit the spot so hard it about gave me bruises.

We snagged a couple of caches near the restaurant, and then set sail for Martinsville (though I very kindly dropped Natalie off at her vehicle rather than at some random spot a long way away, which Scott and I thought might be entertaining, at least until she killed us dead). Brugger had spent a long weekend in Hillsborough at one of her regular artsy-craftsy retreats, and she arrived home not long before we did.

So, I reckon we're as recharged as we're gonna be for a while. And this week, it's back into the trenches. Gird your loins.
View of Roanoke from the observation deck at the Mill Mountain Star
A massive rock formation high up on the mountain (yes, there is a cache hidden in there, which we found)
Big honking bikes!
Inferno Burger at Fork in the Alley

Sunday, January 26, 2025

Website Revamp on the Way

My author website, stephenmarkrainey.com, is currently undergoing a total revamp at the capable hands of long-time friend Deena Warner, web and graphic designer extraordinaire. I designed my site back in the early 2000s, but as interwebz technology has exploded over the past couple of decades, I've not been able to devote the time, energy, and resources to remain proficient at web design beyond the most basic; at best, I've been able to keep my site updated semi-regularly. However, since my former host, helpinghost.com, is closing down as of February 1, I decided to take the opportunity to have the old webmonster remade and based at a new site host.

Deena has created and maintained websites for many of the biggest and the best creative names in the dark lit field (among many others), so I am confident that, after all these years, my virtual home will not look quite as old as I am. For the time being, the thing is under construction, so it may show up as wonky or nonexistent.

Will update here when there are updates to announce, and I do thank those of you who see fit to follow my (mis)adventures here, there, and everywhere. In the meantime, check out Deena Warner's site here. Her clients include Nicholas Kaufmann, Dean Koontz, George R.R. Martin, Kimberly McCreight, Katherine Ozment, Tim Waggoner, and many, many others.

Friday, January 17, 2025

Near the Pigg River

After such an enjoyable day of geocaching yesterday, and with a trio of newish caches lurking not too far northward, I decided this morning that another outing was crucial for my peace of mind. So, I hit the back roads, bound for Franklin County, about 9 AM and aimed myself at a couple of caches in a little series called "Near the Pigg River," both of which—believe it or not—are near the Pigg River. Both of these were published over a week ago, but neither had been logged, probably due to the snow and ice last week, which is only now clearing up in many areas.

Upon arriving at the first location—"Near the Pigg River: Watch for Animals!" (GCB26R7)—I found myself looking at a bridge, and the terrain rating at the coordinates—three out of five—gave me an idea of where I needed to hunt. Sure enough, I found the cache in the first place I looked, and it was a cool enough hide to warrant giving it a favorite point (some geocachers look at favorite points to determine their targets in any given location). And, as I expected, I signed a blank log sheet, thus claiming the (not-really-all-that-coveted) first-to-find (FTF) honors.

The second cache—"Near the Pigg River: I Got a Big One!" (GCB26RD)—put me at another bridge over the Pigg River near an old dam and power station. At the near end of the bridge, I immediately saw a boat put-in area, so I decided to park there, only to discover as I drove down the steep hill that a substantial layer of ice still covered most of it. Ah, well... too late to back out now. So, I hoofed it across the bridge toward ground zero, only to discover a closer, less hazardous parking area. Oy vey! Anyway, I found the cache quickly, again taking FTF honors. Then I returned to the car and looked up that hill with some trepidation. I also discovered I had only one bar of phone service, and that was if I squinted and held my mouth just right. So, I really, really hoped the Rodan Mobile was good for getting past that ice.

I gave it a good running start and, fortunately, surmounted that hill with no problem. Thank you, my little Rodan Mobile!

The last of the caches—"Are You Guys Sick of Micros" (GCB1WET)—hid in Rocky Mount, in a well-populated commercial area. It had already been found, so no more FTFs today (although Scott and I claimed 16 yesterday, which was more than I had realized until I counted them all this morning). Once I had that one in the bag, I headed back to Martinsville, parked in the neighborhood, and went walking until I had reached my daily 5,000-step goal. I've now gone just over one full year of putting in at least 5,000 steps (about two and half miles) every day. Most days, I walk considerably more than that. My 366-day average (last year was a leap year) stands at 8,700 steps a day (just about four miles).

This next week, the weather is not looking good for geocaching (or outdoor activities in general), so I'm glad I availed myself of the opportunity today. Total geocache find count now stands at 15,394. The 13th of this month was my 17th geocaching anniversary, as a matter of fact. Dunno how I got that freakin' old...