Distant Early Warning: Shunned Houses, Coming in October

TO BE RELEASED ON OCTOBER 1, 2024: The new anthology, Shunned Houses, edited by S.T. Joshi & Katherine Kerestman, published by WordCrafts Press. This one features my short story, "The House at Black Tooth Pond," along with over three dozen tales by both classic and contemporary authors.

The hardcover and Kindle editions of the book are already available for pre-order at Amazon.com; the trade paperback will be available on release day.

At Necronomicon-Providence a couple of weeks ago, co-editor Kat Kerestman provided me with contributor copies of both the hardback and paperback editions, and I can verify that this is an absolutely gorgeous volume with an incredible table of contents. The antho includes stories and poems by Ambrose Bierce, Algernon Blackwood, Ramsey Campbell, Margaret Curtis, Maxwell I. Gold, William Hope Hodgson, Frank Belknap Long, Lori R. Lopez, H.P. Lovecraft, Edgar Allan Poe, Lilla Price Savino, Ann K. Schwader, John Shirley, and many more.

For good measure, I'll offer you the opening passage of my story, "The House at Black Tooth Pond," here:

# # #

By combining a high-pitched vocalization with a shrill, warbling whistle, my brother could mimic the cries of the whippoorwills that lurked in the nighttime woods around Black Tooth Pond, convincingly enough that only a trained ear could discern the difference.

I knew the difference.

The cry, mournful and eerie, now wafted from the darkness outside my bedroom window. I knew that sound, and it made me quail.

It wasn’t a whippoorwill’s song, but my brother’s.

My brother was dead.

# # #

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Preorder Shunned Houses at Amazon.com

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The Fisherman by John Langan

John Langan's The Fisherman is what I would call a genuine weird tale, an appealing blend of cosmic and folk horror in an epic-sized novel. I listened to the audiobook, narrated by Danny Campbell, whose spot-on presentation made for an engaging, oftentimes gripping listening experience.

The Fisherman, as has been frequently noted, unfolds with slow deliberation, establishing character and atmosphere with vivid, colorful prose. The story opens with narrator Abe, a recent widower, becoming enamored of fishing. He develops a friendship with one of his co-workers, Dan, who is also a recent widower. Together, they share a few enjoyable outings at various rivers and creeks throughout upstate New York, and eventually seek out a new location for a fishing trip, the innocently named Dutchman's Creek, which connects the century-old Ashokan Reservoir with the Hudson River.

At this point, the novel becomes a narrative within a narrative by way of a story related to Abe and Dan by one "Howard" at a local diner (Langan's description of Howard's physical resemblance to H.P. Lovecraft is hardly coincidental). Howard relates the lengthy story of several families in the early twentieth century, whose lives are intertwined by their connections to the construction of the reservoir. Suffice it to say that complications of the preternatural variety affect each of the characters, oftentimes to profound degrees.

This secondary narrative initially feels more than a bit jarring because it interrupts the story's dramatic flow at what seems an inopportune moment and, rather unexpectedly, becomes the novel's lengthier and deeper focus. Still, once past my initial bemusement, I became immersed in the wandering, sometimes unsettling detour. The narrative's beats in many ways echo those of Lovecraft's "The Colour Out of Space," although Langan presents us with far more kinetic action than Lovecraft would have ever dreamed of penning, while also imbuing his characters with greater depth and poignancy than any the Old Gent ever seemed capable of conceiving.

Eventually, this verbally related "folk tale" finds its climax, and attention returns to Abe and Dan, whose ventures into the land around Dutchman's Creek begin to mesh with those in Howard's tale. Make no mistake, that Howard could have told such a lengthy, detailed account from such an earlier time defies logic, and Langan addresses this issue with masterful aplomb. The now-continued primary narrative spins its own web of disturbing threads that finally lead to a wonderfully satisfying conclusion, creating what I would call a story far stronger than the sum of its various parts. While not what I would call a perfect novel, The Fisherman hits enough perfect notes throughout its length that it could indeed be considered a pivotal work in the realm of cosmic horror.

Four and a half out of five Damned Rodan's Dirty Firetinis.

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The Fisherman by John Langan
at Amazon.com

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Gateways to Abomination by Matthew M. Barlett

Gateways to Abomination is the first collection of Matthew Bartlett's that I've read, and these tales mesmerized me from beginning to end. With the bulk of the stories thematically tied together — and interwoven with ongoing broadcasts from the truly weird radio station, WXXT (which I will now claim as my favorite radio station of all time) — the narrative felt simultaneously all over the map and ultimately coherent. Bartlett's prose is not just lyrical; it is elegant, painting vivid, frequently grotesque portraits and scenes more unsettling than in any weird tales I've read in a long time. With the author's masterful storytelling and its pervasive atmosphere of soul-deep dread, Gateways to Abomination is a work to which I can enthusiastically apply the term "shuddersome" as a superlative.

I listened to the audiobook of Gateways, read by Jon Padgett, directly upon completing the entire audio series of F. Paul Wilson's Repairman Jack novels, most of which were read by Christopher Price. I had become so accustomed to Price's narration that Padgett's wholly different style and tone struck me as a bit jarring. It didn't take long, though, before I became wholly immersed in the tales and actually loving Padgett's more frenetic and emotive narration.

Gateways was originally released in 2014, and since then, Bartlett has produced an extensive body of work. I will look forward to delving more deeply into his unsettling world and — hopefully — listening to many more cryptic broadcasts from WXXT.

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Gateways to Abomination at Amazon.com

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Back From NecronomiCon... at Last!

For me, one helluva grand adventure in Providence, Rhode Island, began on Thursday, August 15 and ran — technically — through Sunday, August 18. The trip home extended my personal adventure a full extra day, and not in a desirable way. Still, this particular snafu hardly impacted the incredible adventure of NecronomiCon Providence, 2024.

Thursday, August 15
I had originally intended to leave for Providence on Friday morning, which meant I'd arrive too late to attend a couple of the panels I'd hoped to be on. However, as it turned out, circumstances allowed me to leave a day earlier, which proved perfect for the panel schedule. Predawn on Thursday morning, I mounted up and set out for Providence by way of Piedmont Triad International Airport in Greensboro, with a connection in Philadelphia. A few years back, I had sworn off flying American Airlines due to their abysmal customer service, but for this trip, American was the only airline whose flight schedule accommodated mine. I'm happy to say that, on the outbound trip, things could not have gone more smoothly. Smack on schedule, with no complications along the way, my aircraft landed at Rhode Island T.F. Green International Airport. By the time I reached baggage claim, my checked suitcase was waiting for me on the carousel. After a relatively quick Uber ride, I checked in at the Omni Providence Hotel, one of the two main venues for the con.

There was a geocache at the convention center adjacent to the hotel so — first things first — I walked over and found it. Hooray! A new state to add to my caching stats.

Home away from home: the Omni Providence Hotel

Once registered at the con, I headed straight for the dealer's room, where I met Lovecraft eZine proprietor Mike Davis and man-about-town Pete Rawlik, soon to be joined by Mike & Bridgette Brenmark. Mike D. was kind enough to offer space for some of my books at the eZine table, so I joined the group working the table for various spells over the duration of the con. Almost immediately, I ran into Kristi Petersen Schoonover, the editor of 34Orchard magazine and the anthology Wicked Sick, both of which feature my work. Somewhere in here, I also ran into authors Matthew Bartlett, Mike Burke, the mysterious Johnny Canine, Kristin Dearborn, Scott Goudsward, Michelle Renee Lane, John Langan, Errick Nunnally, Paul Tremblay, and many other folks whose paths have crossed mine, either virtually or in person. No one inflicted grievous harm upon me, which I always interpret as a good sign.

Mid-afternoon, I set out on a medium-length walk around downtown Providence, where I found a single physical cache and completed the virtual stages of a nearby Adventure Lab. Every day of this trip, I far exceeded my daily mileage goal (at last four miles) on foot, I can tell you!

At 5:00 p.m., the opening ceremonies commenced at the nearby First Baptist Church in America, which H.P. Lovecraft himself admired for its history and architecture. Here, I met eZine regulars Matt Carpenter and Alan Hughes and plagued them with my existence. A lovely parade of Great Old Ones, Deep Ones, and other Unspeakable Things commenced, accompanied by unearthly organ music from above. During the proceedings, the sky opened up to dump torrents on the land, which made for a wet return to the hotel. Happily, none of us melted, drowned, or otherwise demised.

Come dinnertime, our Lovecraftian contingent headed to Reiner's Bar & Game Room at the Graduate Hotel (formerly The Biltmore) a short couple of blocks down from the Omni. Damned good food and drink, and we made arrangements for a big honking party of 20 on the following night for the Lovecraft eZine Patreon subscribers. In fact, I'm going to give this particular Patreon a well-deserved plug here, as Mike provides incredible amounts of content and goes way above and beyond when it comes to giving subscribers their money's worth. I've been on board this train for a couple of years, and as a regular panelist on the eZine's Sunday night podcast, I can tell you that if you are in any way a fan of the Lovecraftian/cosmic horror oeuvre, there's no better value out there.

Several of us hung out at the bar until it was time to pack it in.

Lovecraftian horrors! Old dude, Lovecraft eZine proprietor Mike Davis, Pete Rawlik, Mike & Bridgette Brenmark

Old dude and Kristi Petersen Schoonover

A taste of Providence — on the way to the opening ceremonies at the First Baptist Church in America

Those Baptists... what a wacky bunch!

Friday, August 16
The day's first panel of interest was Joe Pulver: The bEast Among Us, at 9:30 a.m. Joe and I were good friends for many years, having shared numerous literary, social, and anti-social adventures in the middle 2000s, usually at the home of author/editor Robert M. Price, in Selma, NC. Later, he became a regular on the Lovecraft eZine podcast, where he took great delight in disparaging my name and my character, for which I will always adore him. I hadn't signed up to be on the panel because, at the time, it didn't look like time would permit it. Little did I know then that I'd end up modifying my schedule significantly. C'est la vie. Anyhoo, on the panel, we had authors Chad Anctil, Jon Black, Michael Cisco, Pete Rawlik, and Jeffrey Thomas. It was a decent discussion about Joe and his work, and at the end, I was able to share an anecdote or two of no small amusement. I trust he is looking out from Carcosa over the Lake of Hali and scowling appropriately.

I here had the pleasure of finally... finally... meeting Jeff Thomas in person. Back in the 1980s and 90s, I published some of his work in Deathrealm, and we've been virtual friends ever since. A while back, we chatted face-to-face on a Zoom interview, but until now, I'd never been able to shake him by the hand, rip off his arm, and batter him about the face and head. What a fuckin' treat this was!

Joe Pulver: The bEast Among Us panel: (L–R) Jeffrey Thomas, Michael Cisco, Peter Rawlik,
Jon Black, Chad Anctil

Afterward, I was a panelist at Small Press of the 1970s/1980s, along with Paul DiFilippo, Tim Lonegan, Darrell Schweitzer, and Alan Tromp. We had a good turnout and a good discussion, with Alan providing an excellent slide show of numerous magazine covers from the period in question, including quite a few from Deathrealm.

Kristi Petersen Schoonover hanging with a bunch
of Providence locals

I had a lunch date with Kristi Petersen Schoonover and her husband Nathan, and since their time was of the essence, we headed to the nearby Caffé Nero for a coffee and a quick bite. From there, I headed back to the dealer's room to work the table for a while. Mid-afternoon, I took a break to hoof it around several relatively nearby locations in Providence to hunt caches. I had much success (and a wee bit of unsuccess). And again, back to the dealer's room. Happily, I sold a fair number of books (though, sadly, those funds — and a hell of a lot more — quickly evaporated thanks to the Sunday–Monday travel debacle).

The evening's plan was the eZine Patreon dinner at Reiner's, where 19 sinister folks gathered at a big honking table and made merry with much food and drink. Afterward, Pete Rawlik was hosting Lovecraftian trivia at the nearby Trinity Brewhouse, so Johnny Canine, Alan Hughes, and Kevin Joiner proceeded to the venue to heckle him. This we did, and we consumed some entertaining spirits, including one to which I took an unexpected shine — a Jamaican-themed brew called "Jamaican Me Crazy," a tropical stout with flavors of coconut, orange, and coffee. Not what I might ordinarily consider my speed, but damn if I didn't enjoy it.

Then, rather than retire, I took a very light-night stroll into Providence's dimmer corners to hunt a geocache. Fortunately, I found it readily, and I didn't die. When I later described my adventure to some native Providencials, they made no bones about the fact that I am a lunatic. Hey, I'm a happy a lunatic. And after this night, one geocache richer.

Old dude and New England horror author Scott Goudsward

Mike Davis and John Langan muddling their way through the Dutch copy of John's novel, The Fisherman

Geocaching by night. L: The Hasbro Building; R: The Omni Providence Hotel... again

Saturday, August 17:

Early morning Providence

Once again, I was up early, so I guzzled some coffee and hit the streets to hunt a couple of nearby EarthCaches — geocaches for which you answer questions about geology at specific landmarks rather than hunt a physical container. Having successfully completed this endeavor, I headed back to the con to work the dealer table for a while. Then I had a lunch date at nearby 110 Grill with podcaster Penny Dreadful and author/editor Kat Kerestman — who presented me with contributor copies of her latest collaboration with S.T. Joshi, Shunned Houses, which features my story "The House at Black Tooth Pond." (The book's official release date is October 2; the hardcover and Kindle editions are now available for preorder, and the trade paperback will be available on the release date.) I had met Kat at AuthorCon this past year, and it was a delight to finally meet Penny Dreadful face to face, as I have been on her Dark Shadows podcast, Terror at Collinwood, a few times over the years.

Kat Kerestman, Penny Dreadful, and ye old dude at 110 Grill, with books

I spent the afternoon working the dealer's room until 5:00 p.m., when I was on the W.H. Pugmire: Queen of the Sesqua Valley panel, a tribute to longtime friend, author, poet, Deathrealm contributor, and more, Wilum H. Pugmire. Moderated by Nicole Cushing, the other panelists included Thomas Broadbent, Pete Rawlik, and Jeffrey Thomas. As you might imagine, this one, much like the Pulver panel, was bittersweet. Everyone presented their unique insights about and memories of Wilum, whose life and works touched all of us deeply. To wrap it up, I read Jessica Amanda Salmonson's poem, "Wilum," from Deathrealm #1, which was a tribute to him circa 1986, and all the more apt all these years later. Of all the panels I've been on over the years, this one probably hit me deepest in the emotions department.

The W.H. Pugmire: Queen of the Sesqua Valley panel: Nicole Cushing, Peter Rawlik, Thomas Broadbent, the old dude, Jeffrey Thomas

Sort of out of the blue, the eZine gang had decided we should all go to see Alien: Romulus, which was playing at the iMax cinema in the big indoor shopping mall adjacent to the hotel. So, immediately following the panel, I hauled ass to the cinema, bought popcorn and a beer for dinner, and settled in to watch the film. If you want to read my capsule commentary, you can see it on Facebook here. It might not be as glowing as some reviews I've seen.

Waterfire photo by Timothy Burrall

A number of folks had suggested we go down to the river to see Waterfire, a regular summer event for which over eighty braziers in the rivers that flow through downtown Providence — the Woonasquatucket, the Moshassuck, and the Providence Rivers — are set alight to create a spectacular "sculpture," created by artist Barnaby Evans. I was quite keen on this idea, but the movie had run long enough that logistical issues for meeting the others proved prohibitive. I thought about going down to one of the nearby parks on my own, but I kept getting texts from certain eZine personnel proclaiming that they were thirsty. So, for a final-night-of-the-con eZine gang fling, I joined the thirsty bunch and headed back to Trinity Brewhouse for a few more rounds, plus some much-needed food, since the popcorn had long since worn off. Afterward, I considered going on another lengthy geocache trek, but fatigue was beginning to set in, so I opted to head toward the sack.

Probably a good thing because I went out like a light.

Waterfire photo by Thomas Paine

Trinity Brewhouse final fling: the old man, Peter Rawlik, Alan Hughes, Bridget Brenmark, Mike Brenmark, Johnny Canine, Kevin Joiner

Sunday, August 18

Snazzy, wot?!

I rose early for a nice walk after a final downtown Providence cache, and then I hauled myself to the dealer's room for a while. By the last day, crowds had thinned a bit, and I don't believe any of us sold much. Once again for lunch, I met Kristi and Nathan Schoonover at 110 Grill, where I discovered that they make damned good bloody marys. Here, at long last, I ran into author Nick Kaufman, who'd been posting photos from the con all weekend, but until this moment, I'd seen no proof of life. Always nice to see Nick.

The dealer's room closed at 4:00 p.m., so I hung out until then with the last stragglers. My flight out was supposed to leave at 8:30-ish, so I had plenty of time to kill. I caught an Uber out to PVD, checked my bag, and then went walking again to hunt a nearby cache outside the airport. It rained a little in Providence, but there were reports of major storms to the south of us, and I learned that numerous flights had been delayed or canceled.

I killed time by putting in a lot of mileage à pied and checking out the various drinking/dining establishments. To my surprise, I ran into artist Nick Gucker, whom I'd not seen at the con, so it was nice to chat with him for a bit. He'd illustrated a couple of my stories for early issues of The Lovecraft eZine. I amused myself (sort of) by observing the shit going on around me (examples here). Come time to board, there was no plane at the gate, and on the arrival/departure schedule well over half the listed flights were delayed or canceled. Our plane never showed up, and around 10:30 p.m., it was officially canceled.

The soonest I could get another flight to Greensboro would be at 4:35 the following afternoon, which American booked for me. But this meant having to collect my checked bag and finding a hotel — the cost of which the airline would not reimburse since weather issues are an "act of God." I knew there was a Hampton Inn & Suites nearby because I'd seen it while I was geocaching earlier in the day. It was the closest walkable lodging, and I wasn't about to pay for transportation to get there. Thankfully, it wasn't raining — much, anyway; I did get sprinkled on. The place was way the fuck overpriced and no great shakes, but at least it was reasonably comfortable. Any port in a storm, eh?

Monday, August 19
Hey! There are caches nearby! So, I got up early, had a quick (thankfully complimentary) breakfast, and set out walking. Picked up two caches, which at least gave me a smile. I had to be out of the hotel by 11:00 a.m., which meant another lengthy spell hanging around PVD. By now, I'm getting really tired of looking at the place. Again, I hoofed it over to the terminal, checked my bag, and found some lunch. Then I walked back and forth a lot. Again. Drank damned bloody marys. Again. So, I decide to console myself by considering all the good things about the moment. The airport has air conditioning. There is food and drink (albeit ridiculously expensive). Bombs are not falling around me. The likelihood of suddenly finding myself a refugee seems very slim. So, all things considered, I reckon life is pretty good.

But the plane is late. Here we go. Again. My biggest worry now is that Kim has already left for Michigan, so the cats only have enough food to last for the evening. Fortunately, I'm able to ascertain that friend Samaire can step in for cat maintenance if necessary. Finally, over an hour late, the plane lands, and we eventually get to board. It takes a while, but finally, we're off the ground and on our way to PHL.

Fortunately, my layover at PHL was long enough that I still had about an hour wait. We boarded almost on time, but once we headed out toward the runway... we stop dead. And we sit. And we sit. And we sit. After thirty minutes or so, the pilot tells us that because of new, approaching weather fronts, they're waiting for approval of a new flight plan. So we sit. And sit. And sit.

Finally, after an hour and a half on the runway, we're airborne. It's bumpy up there, but — thankfully — we make good time, and at just after 11:00 p.m. — about two hours late — we touch down at GSO. Happily, my checked bag has ridden on the plane with me and is delivered via carousel within a matter of minutes.

Then the hour-long drive to Martinsville, which I made safely. The cats were thrilled to see me, evidenced by their choruses of "where the hell our foods?"

So, it was quite an adventure from start to finish, the "finish" adventure being far less enjoyable than the rest.

At the end of the day, I freaking loved NecronomiCon. It's held every two years, so I hope circumstances will prove favorable for attending it in the future. There are so many people I already know and have wanted to meet who are NecronomiCon regulars, and this was one of those gatherings where I felt right at home with the "gang" — the Lovecraft eZine folks. My only regret was that I didn't get to see quite a few people whom I knew were there... somewhere. Given the size of the con and the fact it's spread out over several locations, with lots of concurrent programming, it's impossible to do everything and see everyone. Which just means I've gotta go back. Hopefully, again and again.

And there are still plenty of caches to hunt in Providence.

This Weekend: NecronomiCon Providence!

This weekend — Thursday, August 15 to Sunday, August18 — I'll be at NecronomiCon Providence! I was initially slated to be on three panels, but my travel plans precluded the first of them. I'll be on two, as listed below:

Friday, Aug 16, 11:00 a.m.–12:15 p.m.
Small Press Publications of the 70s/80s — Capital Ballroom, Graduate 2nd Floor.
A discussion of the importance and contributions of small press magazines and zines, such as Nyctalops, Whispers, Eldritch Tales, and Weirdbook, in keeping Mythos fiction alive. Despite small budgets and circulation compared to national mainstream magazines, they published many of the important genre writers working during the period leading up and into the 80s mainstream horror boom. Panelists: Paul Di Filippo (M), Tim Lonegan, Stephen Mark Rainey, Darrell Schweitzer, Alan Tromp

Saturday, Aug 17, 5:00 p.m.–6:15 p.m.
W. H. Pugmire: Queen of the Sesqua Valley — South County Room, Omni 3rd Floor
Wilum “Hopfrog” Pugmire (American, 1951 – 2019) came up as part of the Seattle punk scene and publisher of the zine Punk Lust. A devotee of Lovecraft, he was a leading writer and poet in neo-Lovecraftian fiction and poetry from the 1980s until his death. Much of his work was set in the fictional Sesqua Valley of the Pacific Northwest, and featured lush prose and genderfluid eroticism. Panelists discuss his life and work. Panelists: Thomas Broadbent, Nicole Cushing (M), Stephen Mark Rainey, Peter Rawlik, Jeffrey Thomas

I'll have several books available at the Lovecraft eZine table, where you'll find proprietor/host Mike Davis scaring the pants off folks. I know I'll be seeing many of you there. Really looking forward to it.

Return to the Ghost Ship

Early last month, I ventured up to Smith Mountain Lake to hunt a mean little geocache called "Ghost Ship" GCATXK3 — unsuccessfully, alas. (You may read my sad chronicle here.) Last night, Varunner7, a local geocacher whom friend Diefenbaker (a.k.a. Scott) and I had met briefly a few months ago, messaged me to inquire whether I might like to join her, her husband (known as baylorbearpaul), and their three youngsters today at the Ghost Ship for a hunt. Well, how could I resist?

Puzzle Detective popping up from below while Ms. Varunner7
prepares to delve into the dark depths

Fortunately, this morning's temperature promised to start out appreciably cooler than on my last attempt, when I damn near roasted in the cramped innards of that craft (which is a military mobile bridge ferry, used to construct bridges for combat vehicles). So, I set out armed with my best flashlight, my raggediest clothes, and a small bucket of coffee, hoping to avenge my prior failure. Strength in numbers, and all that. I was the first to arrive at the site, so I made my way aboard the ghost ship and set about searching. Only a couple of minutes later, the rest of the crew showed up, so we soon had a half dozen pairs of eyes scouring every surface of the old bridge ferry. Then, unexpectedly, another pair of geocachers arrived on the scene — Puzzle Detective and GeoTeetah — which I figured might at least give us enough numbers to put the cache at a tactical disadvantage.

After about 20 minutes on the hunt, my flashlight beam fell on a spot I had given a cursory look during my previous visit, but apparently not from the optimum angle. This time, I was able to see what I needed to see: the distinctive geocaching logo on a well-hidden container. Success at last! And a nice, shared first-to-find, which made us all quite happy, I think.

I was so focused on the find that I didn't take a single photo. Happily, Paul took a number of shots and was kind enough to let me post them here. A helluva satisfying morning, even if I did get behind every slow putz on the Virginia backroads both coming and going (it's about a 90-minute drive each way, so putzes irk me). On the way home, I rewarded myself with a very unhealthy smoky pepper cheese steak sub at our local Jersey Mike's. I probably should have gone for something less lethal, since Brugger and I had a couple of magnificent smoked brisket sandwiches with fries last night at Martinsville's classic car and food truck rodeo, but sometimes you just gotta go for the flavor.

At the controls

"Dammit, I got an owie on me arm!"

The boat people

Distant Early Warning: Multi-Author Booksigning in Elizabeth City, NC

Coming up on Friday, September 6, 2024, 5:00 p.m. EDT, at Seven Sounds Brewing Company in Elizabeth City, NC — a four-author booksigning event, featuring Elizabeth Broadbent, Patricia Lee Macomber, David Niall Wilson, and an old dude. To promote each author, the brewery will offer a unique brew matched with one of each author's featured works (my featured book is Fugue Devil: Resurgence, but they may wanna leave off the "Resurgence" part, brew-wise). Seven Sounds features both indoor and outdoor seating, and there will be food trucks and other vendors on hand with wares of many varieties.

In addition to Fugue Devil: Resurgence, I'll also have copies of Deathrealm: Spirits, The Monarchs (which is set in Elizabeth City), The Gods of Moab, Blue Devil Island, and others. Stay tuned for more details as the time draws nearer.