Showing posts with label West Virginia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label West Virginia. Show all posts

Saturday, March 27, 2021

From Midland to the Mothman


Brugger and I received our first COVID-19 vaccinations on last Wednesday, so we’re halfway there. Yay!

Saturday, March 20, 2021
At the ass-crack of dawn, we left Greensboro for a long-planned visit with Ms B’s folks in Midland, MI. Happily, Del & Fern got their rounds of shots several weeks ago, so, barring vile variants or other unforeseen complications, they’re well defended against death cooties. Regardless, Brugger and I isolated ourselves even more than usual for the past week or so. As on our previous trip this past September (see “Midland with a Twist”), rather than fly, we opted to undertake the long drive. This time, we took a slightly different route, which added a few miles but shaved some time. We stopped a handful of times for pit stops, a picnic lunch, and a scant few geocaches, and arrived in Midland just after 8 p.m. As is our custom, we sat up fairly late with Del & Fern watching programs about good food, this time, Stanley Tucci: Searching for Italy. Kimberly and I particularly enjoyed this one, as it showcased a number of locations we had visited on our trip there in 2019.
The Rodan Mobile arrives in Midland right at sunset
Sunday, March 21, 2021
A beautiful morning, and there are tons of new geocaches in and around Midland, many right in the neighborhood. So, after a pleasing breakfast of pancakes and bacon, I hopped on the bike and pedaled around to a few of them. Quick finds, the lot of them. Following this little adventure, I made revisions to a new short story for the anthology editor. And then... lunch from China Palace, a tasty and non-trivial quantity of food.

Meijer. Whenever we visit the Bruggers, it’s family tradition to hit Meijer to stock up on supplies for the week. No breaking family tradition this trip. I found a Life Magazine Godzilla edition, so on a whim, I bought it. It’s evidently from 2019. Anyway, I’m sure it doesn’t offer a word about Godzilla I don’t already know (if you know me at all, you know I have been a devoted Godzillaphile since the age of four), but it seemed novel enough to warrant picking up. It’s almost funny that, after collecting daikaiju memorabilia for years, spending thousands and thousands of dollars in the process, this is the first Godzilla publication I’ve picked up probably in 25 years or more.

After the shopping, I hopped on the bike again, this time with Ms. B. accompanying. We rode over to nearby Plymouth Park, hunted a handful of geocaches (and met some friendly local geocachers), and then put in a few miles pedaling around the neighborhood. Another mellow evening in the family room for some quality family time, and my blood pressure is probably at an excellent level tonight.
Ms. B. at The Labyrinth at Plymouth Park. She casts a mean shadow.

Monday, March 22, 2021
It was another beautiful morning fit for bike riding, but today I had a slightly different plan. I needed to return to Meijer to pick up a couple of items, so I headed out in the Rodan Mobile, snagged a half-dozen caches around the Midland Mall area, and then did my shopping. Another family tradition is for me to play chef for a day, and today was the day. Del and Fern had seen pics of my recent bout with Bolognese and decided it was only fitting I should treat them to some. So I spent the rest of the morning in the kitchen while they went off in search of a new toilet for one of theirs that had decided to go south. It’s possible I got the better end of this deal.

And the verdict is in: the Bolognese was some pretty good shit.

After letting the big dinner settle, I finally headed out on the bike. Put in quite a few miles this go-round, and picked up several more caches. Ms. B. got a new laptop, so once I returned, we spent a little while getting things set up. Lord, Microsoft used to be a pain in the ass. It’s now a fucking ludicrous pain in the ass, getting in the way of almost everything you want to set up that isn’t specifically Microsoft. There were words.

Tuesday, March 23, 2021
I have put in some lengthy bike rides in Midland, but I believe this morning’s pedal set a personal record. I covered the entire northeast quadrant of Midland and then some, snagging 19 caches (and failing to find several others) in the process. Most of these were of the typical park & grab variety, though a few proved a bit more interesting. One of them had reduced some poor, unfortunate geocachers to naught but bones. At another one, I felt I was being watched the entire time I spent looking for it. Near there, at a church where the cache was hidden, a churchy muggle accosted me and invited me to come for a visit on Sunday. On my long ride home, I saw Ms. B. and the family in the car heading the other way — out toward Clare to visit some antique shops.

Rarely has a shower, leftover Bolognese, ice cream, and fresh hot coffee been more welcome.

For the afternoon, I made some forward progress in my newest Ameri-Scares novel, Georgia: The Haunting of Tate’s Mill.

Wednesday, March 24, 2021
Although I woke to another beautiful Midland morning, there was no cycling on today’s docket. I had to deal with some of my brother’s estate business, which ended up taking more time than I expected (and I had expected quite a lot). Then our crew hit the road for Saginaw, the Brugger folk for antiquing, the old fellow for geocaching. Now, I would generally not associate a place called The Antique Warehouse with a fantastic Italian beef sandwich, but this place has ’em. We enjoyed an excellent lunch together and then parted company. Off I went for some caches. The first was right there on the store’s property — or, rather, it was supposed to be. After a lengthy search, I couldn’t find the damned thing. I did find ample evidence of severe flooding, so I suspect the container ended up in the Saginaw River or something such. However, from there, I went after several others, and succeeded admirably with these.

Once antiqued out in Saginaw, the gang wanted to visit Warmbier Farms, a big old gift store in Williams Township, about midway between Saginaw and Midland. I have cached around that area on other outings similar to this one, and I did the same again today. Only one cache required me to walk a significant distance. It was at this cache, when I had reached farthest point from the car, that the bottom fell out. Big rain. Big, BIG rain. Big, WET rain. Wet ME. Believe you me, I got wet.

Needless to say, as soon as I got back to the car, the rain stopped.
Before the rain: Old Rodan and the Zilwaukee Bridge over the Saginaw River
A fun fellow with ammo can we
discovered in the forest

Thursday, March 26, 2021
The morning turned out a bit gray and chilly, but Brugger and I went forth, as we had planned, to the Midland City Forest, a short distance north of Casa di Brugger. Over 20 miles of trails wind through the forest, and after a few trips out there, Ms. B. and I have set foot on quite a few of them. This morning, we headed for a section I had never explored before, so a good many caches awaited my attention there. I managed to find most of those I hunted. There were tough caches, easy caches, creative caches, fun caches. We found a man made of wood carrying an ammo can around; a meteorite; a diamond in the rough; a birdhouse that wasn’t; and a bridge with a troll under it. Well, there wasn’t a troll down there until I went under the bridge, but... well... there it is. Ms. B. got in a wee bit of nature photography, which she most enjoys. I tell you this, I have exercised on this trip like I haven’t exercised in a long while, and I can surely feel it — in a good way, of course, except maybe for the pain of it.

Afterward, we set a course for Mancino’s, which is one of those places you do not fail to visit when you are in Midland. Brugger ordered her usual Italian grinder, which, as I can testify, is one of the best sandwiches on earth. And I opted for a Mango Habanero Steak grinder, which, as I can now testify, is also one of the best sandwiches on earth. A worthy rival to the Italian beef sandwich I scarfed down at The Antique Warehouse on yesterday.

A little forward progress on the creative writing endeavors, a final trip to Meijer, and what a fine penultimate day of our Midland trip this has been.
There are some rough-looking trolls in Michigan.
And the occasional meteorite lounging about in Michigan.
If you look carefully, you might see Ms. B. checking out real estate in Michigan.
And if you listen, you might hear a chorus of peeping frogs making a mighty racket in Michigan.

Friday, March 26, 2021
After a wonderful, relaxing yet invigorating week, our time at the Bruggers’ in Midland had come to an end. Ms. B. and I rose relatively early, loaded up the Rodan Mobile, said our farewells, and hit the road, now bound for Point Pleasant, WV, home of the infamous Mothman. I had visited Point Pleasant in September of 2018 while researching my Ameri-Scares novel, West Virginia: Lair of the Mothman (see “Lair of the Mothman,” September 30, 2018). I had loved the place, the lore, and... of course... the geocaching! It made for a perfect overnight stop on the long haul back to North Carolina. A while back, I had made reservations at the historic Lowe Hotel, where I had stayed on my previous trip. After a long and less-than-relaxing drive — traffic was bonkers all the way down — we arrived in Point Pleasant late in the afternoon. Pronto, we bolted for the Mothman Museum, so we might spend a little time there before it closed. I had explored it in depth on my last visit, but Ms. B. was keen on checking out the plentiful paraphernalia, especially props from the film, The Mothman Prophecies. Once done, we walked across the street to the Lowe Hotel and checked in. Since I was a return visitor, the proprietor was kind enough to give us a suite for the same price I would have paid for a single room. (As an aside, on the Lowe Hotel website, the header image with the room key is actually the key to our suite — which is officially what room 328 now is: OUR suite.) I can hardly recommend the Lowe Hotel highly enough. The place is exceptionally clean (as it ought to be during the pandemic); requires masks (as it ought to during the pandemic); and is, above  all things, haunted. As on my previous stay, I saw no ghosts, but this hardly means they are not around. They simply don’t care to be traumatized by the character of certain guests, whose names shall not be mentioned here.

Once ensconced in our lodgings — and feeling the great starvation — we ordered a pizza from Village Pizza, which has its own connection to the Mothman. In 1966, the first individuals to witness the Mothman in the TNT Area, several miles north of Point Pleasant, fled the site and stopped at the location that is now Village Pizza. Our pizza? Well, it was fucken good. Once we finished our dinner, just after sunset, we hit the road once again — this time bound for the TNT Area, which had provided me with a big day of geocaching on my previous visit. Last time, however, I had experienced the place only in daylight, and I was dying to experience it after dark. We drove deep into the heart of the forest, once the site of a massive ammunition manufacturing/storage facility. From last time, I recalled the location of an open TNT storage bunker (these are called “igloos”) and made tracks for it. Sure enough, there it was, its doors still gaping wide, its interior as dark and creepy as all get out, just as I remembered (see accompanying video).
Interior of the Lowe Hotel, Point Pleasant, WV
Point Pleasant sunset, viewed from our window at the Lowe Hotel
View from Tu Endi Wei park of the bridge into Point Pleasant over the Kanawha River
View of the railroad bridge over the Ohio River from the Point Pleasant river walk
Since Ms. B. is less a geocacher than a sometimes-almost-willing accomplice, on this night, I figured I really should refrain from geocaching in earnest. However, one nearby cache looked particularly promising, so, once we quitted the igloo, I set my sights on it. At GZ, I found a huge, flat rock, as mentioned in the cache’s description. I located an opening underneath the rock that appeared perfect for a good-sized container. Then, upon aiming my flashlight into this gaping maw, I discovered, not a cache, but... a possum! Possum gives me a pretty scary leer, for he clearly had not expected visitors. Fortunately, he quickly vacated the premises. Seeing he was gone, I shone my light back into the opening, and this time spied the cache. Using my hiking stick, I was able to extract the container from its cubby. And once done, I re-hid it in a nearby, equally secure opening so that Possum could settle back in his preferred surroundings, if that was his desire. I hated to disturb him, and I really hope he doesn’t hold a grudge.

From there, we drove back to the hotel. Ms. B. was particularly keen on watching The Mothman Prophecies, so we decided to stream it on my laptop. The film diverges considerably from the “true” events, but it’s an exceedingly well-done movie, engaging to both emotion and intellect, drawing just enough from the source material to tell a compelling, original story. I love it. Along with Night (Curse) of the Demon and John Carpenter’s The Thing, it rates as an all-time favorite fright film.

And thus ended our week-long respite from the world. Our drive back to Greensboro turned out to be a bear — almost non-stop raging rainstorms, generating roughly 600 billion metric tons of human stupidity on the highways. But we arrived safely home, and this trip goes into my personal history book as one of our best ever.

And so, for now, I shall bid you good night.
Inside the Mothman Museum in Point Pleasant
Possum!

Thursday, December 3, 2020

Geocache Adventures Podcast


A while back, the proprietor of geocacheadventures.org, Ms. Amie Tilk, contacted me and asked if I would be interested in appearing on the Geocache Adventures Podcast to talk about geocaching and my first Ameri-Scares novel, West Virginia: Lair of the Mothman. Well, what do you think? Geocaching, the Mothman, yakking with another avid geocacher... well, yeah. I jumped on that.

So, if you can stand the exuberant goings-on, hop on over and give it a listen.

Saturday, April 4, 2020

Interview at Stephen H. Provost's "The Open Book"

Author Stephen H. Provost regularly posts author interviews on his blog, "The Open Book." He had intended to interview a well-known, highly respected author of dark fiction, but his email went astray and came to me instead. So, there is now a nice interview with me talking about my Ameri-Scares novel, West Virginia: Lair of the Mothman. It was a fun one to do, and I hope you'll enjoy reading it. Check it out here.

Tuesday, June 18, 2019

Crossroad, Crossword... Copy Editors Matter



A couple of weeks back, I submitted a bit of promo material about West Virginia: Lair of the Mothman to the Sunday book section of The Greensboro News & Record (greensboro.com), and it apparently came out, in print and online, this past Sunday. It's a slightly edited presentation of the original write-up I sent them, but they blundered by naming the publisher Crossword Press rather than Crossroad. (Copy editors matter, people.) Otherwise, the piece turned out okay, and a little local publicity never hurts. Check it out here: "What I'm Writing."

Crossword. Oy.

Sunday, March 17, 2019

A Head Full of... Winklepleck?!

Nice lady haunting one of many graveyards we discovered in Ohio's Amish country
A couple of years ago, Ms. Brugger & I headed up to Ohio's Amish country—specifically, the little town of Berlin (accent on the first syllable), in Holmes County—to hang out with her folks, Delmar & Fern, who enjoy visiting there on a regular basis (see "Hanging With Bigfoot, and Other Amish Tales"). Once again, over these past few days, we did this thing, having taken a bit of time off work for the occasion. We headed out Thursday morning for the roughly 350-mile trip, and—much to your surprise and mine—I found myself hunting a number of geocaches along the way. The most interesting was probably a historical location in Virginia, just shy of the West Virginia border, known as Shot Tower Historical State Park It's a 75-foot stone tower that was part of an ammunition works in the early 1800s. The cache there (GC7DZXF) was placed by some folks known as "The Shenandoahs," whose caches I have found from Virginia to South Carolina. Their hides frequently lead you to intriguing locations, and this one was no exception.
Old Shot Tower viewed from the trail around the location
I-77 viewed from the trail overlook near the Shot Tower
Rather than ride in silence or listening to tunes, we availed ourselves to the audio book of Paul Tremblay's Bram Stoker Award–winning Head Full of Ghosts, which lasted us the entire northbound trip and fair portion of the southbound. I've had it on my Kindle for far too long, thanks to a book queue I may never actually get through, but I must say I'm glad Ms. B. felt inclined to treat us to the audio book, as it made for superb-quality riding/driving time. The narrator, Joy Osmanski, nicely brought the characters to life. I've not read any of Paul's other novels as yet, but I think his Cabin at the End of the World will be priority in the upcoming queue.
This little piggy went to (the Amish) market...
for the last time.

Upon our arrival in Berlin, we settled in at Zinck's Inn, where we had stayed on our previous visit. Del & Fern were apparently starving and anxiously awaiting our arrival, for they immediately hustled us off to the nearby Boyd & Wurthmann's restaurant, where we had dined several times last time around. This was the only meal we had there on this trip, and it was a good one, with Swiss steak, Amish noodles, and green beans for all of us but Del, who tore into a chopped sirloin steak. We spent the rest of the evening in traditional Brugger fashion: sipping wine and watching TV with Del & Fern in their hotel room while riding out a terrific thunderstorm complete with tornado warning (apparently, a tornado did touch down and cause severe damage not very far away). We prevailed and then went to bed.

Last time around, it wasn't particularly cold in Berlin. On this trip, the warmth wasn't very, and the cold very much was. On Friday and Saturday, we had flurries of snow off and on, though none of it stuck or caused any travel issues. And it made for some fun geocaching. Friday morning, I accompanied the gang on some high-powered, Brugger-style flea marketing and antiquing. Then Ms. B. and I headed out to nearby Sugarcreek for a visit to Silver Moon Winery, which we had enjoyed, albeit briefly, on our previous trip. I did snag a couple of caches on this noble endeavor, I am happy to report. It was out here, while traveling the aptly named Spooky Hollow Road, that we found ourselves passing through the mysterious, legend-haunted community called "Winklepleck." By the grace of God, we survived both the winkles and the plecks.
Aptly named.
Winklepleck!!!
Sheep appeared very happy to see us.
For dinner, we opted for the Berlin Farmstead, a very short distance from our home away from home (actually, it's safe to say that, in Berlin, just about everything of commercial nature is but a short distance from our home away from home). Now, I will say I loved the food here—"broasted" chicken, grilled vegetables, and creamed corn—but on this night, it was particularly crowded, and as for their system of seating patrons...there was none. The foyer was filled with ravenous people, and although the pair of young Amish women ostensibly overseeing things inquired as to the number in each party and dutifully wrote said number on their official number-taking tablet, they proceeded to seat only whoever happened to be standing closest to their station at any given moment. After a while, we took it upon ourselves to go stand close, and thus we managed to sit down. Some folks, I'm not so sure about. Now, this place has clearly been around for quite some time. I don't know whether this brand of not-even-slightly controlled chaos is SOP, but I'd sure as hell hope not. Based on the quality of the food, I'd really like to dine there on a future trip, but I'd not be willing to go there hoping I might actually be seated based on my proximity to a couple of pairs of thoroughly discombobulated eyes.

We spent the rest of the evening in traditional Brugger fashion: sipping wine and watching TV with Del & Fern in their hotel room, this time sans terrific thunderstorm and tornado warning.
A massive hornet's nest, thankfully uninhabited,
on old grave marker

Saturday morning saw us venturing forth to nearby Walnut Creek to purchase delicious foodstuffs at the big Amish market there. Afterward, the Bruggers were determined to press on with the requisite antiquing/shopping, but I jumped ship and headed out to the more remote, scenic corners of Holmes County. I managed to find a host of small, damn-near ancient graveyards, not to mention their attendant geocaches. At one little boneyard, I managed to leave my hiking stick behind, though I did not realize it until the next cache, which is where I really could have used it. Here, at a woodland hide called "Panther's Hollow Overhang" (GC40T8M), as I was making my way down a particularly steep, slippery embankment, my feet managed to get away from me. Next thing you know, I'm whooshing down the incline toward a rocky ravine. I grabbed a handy tree, only to have it laugh at me and rip off a portion of anatomy on my right hand sufficient to cause prodigious bleeding and a wee bit of stinging. Seriously, it was merely a flesh wound but a most annoying occurrence, given that a hiking stick in the hands of someone less absent-minded might have made a meaningful difference regarding favorable v. painful outcomes.
A cheesy outhouse at Guggisberg Cheese Works
A nice little graveyard, where I managed to leave my hiking stick behind
Different graveyard, more graves
For Saturday dinner, we opted for pizza at East of Chicago, which was pretty good. We spent the rest of the evening in traditional Brugger fashion: sipping wine and watching TV with Del & Fern in their hotel room, again sans terrific thunderstorm and tornado warning, although I did suffer a minor migraine, which wasn't exactly the most pleasing turn of events. I reckon I can count my blessing it wasn't one of those killer headaches that occasionally knock me for a loop.

And this morning, after an apparently non-existent long weekend, since we just bloody got to the place, it was time to say our goodbyes. I tell you, I don't recall a spell of days that ever passed so quickly. We were there, and then we weren't. At this point, we have all arrived home safely—I even with my hiking stick, since we went out to retrieve it prior to hitting the highway. After finishing up A Head Full of Ghosts on our return trip, we put on the audio book of my Ameri-Scares series novel, West Virginia: Lair of the Mothman, which I had yet to listen to. I must say, I'm very pleased with the narration by Tim Lundeen. If he is available to narrate more of my books coming out on audio, I should like to request his services. Check out the audio book from Audible here.

Yep, it was a fast, fun weekend, marred only by how damn fast it really was. Well, that and the migraine. But hey, we survived the madness known as Winklepleck!
A hat for every occasion
Well, Brugger always has had a thing for older men.

Thursday, March 7, 2019

West Virginia: Lair of the Mothman Now an Audio Book!


JUST OUT... West Virginia: Lair of the Mothman, the audio book from audible.com.

Narrated by Tim Lundeen, West Virginia; Lair of the Mothman is the story of Vance Archer and Marybeth Wilkins, a pair of thirteen-year-olds who have discovered geocaching, a high-tech treasure hunt that uses GPS technology. On one of their adventures, they encounter a mysterious, frightening figure with glowing red eyes. Soon, Vance begins to receive mysterious messages on his phone from a caller named Indrid Cold. He learns this name is associated with the legendary Mothman, a strange, unearthly being that is said to appear when some terrible event is about to occur.

Believing that they—as well as their friends and loved ones—may soon face mortal danger, Vance and Marybeth try to solve the increasingly strange clues before disaster strikes.

Read an excerpt here.

West Virginia: Lair of the Mothman is my first novel in Elizabeth Massie's Ameri-Scares series for young readers, ages 8–14. My second, Michigan: The Dragon of Lake Superior, is currently in progress and will be finished very soon. Each Ameri-Scares novel is based on or inspired by an historical event, folktale, legend, or myth unique to that particular state. If you have youngsters who enjoy scary stories—or if you enjoy scary stories—this one is tailor made for you.


Reviews are alway appreciated. Thank you!

Wednesday, March 6, 2019

Excerpt 3: West Virginia: Lair of the Mothman


Here's another little excerpt from West Virginia: Lair of the Mothman, my first novel in Elizabeth Massie's Ameri-Scares series. In this scene, Vance and Marybeth, two thirteen-year-olds, and Vance's older brother, Zack, have just come out of a culvert after searching for a geocache....
#
Vance had never felt such relief as when he saw the windshield of Zack’s Buick gleaming faintly in the darkness. The more distance they had put between themselves and the culvert, the more his nerves had calmed. Still, he felt anything but relaxed in the chilly night air. When Zack popped the trunk and they stowed their gear inside, Vance thought—sadly—that he had never been so glad for a geocaching adventure to end.

Zack slid into the driver’s seat. Marybeth took the front passenger seat, and Vance fell into the back seat behind her. Zack glanced at him. “You, I don’t know about, but your girlfriend rocks.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“I’m not his girlfriend,” Marybeth said.

“Whatever. We got first-to-find honors, a night cache, and an underground cache all in one. That’s not a bad night’s work.” Zack started the engine and shifted into reverse. As he began to turn the car around, he hit the brake. “Hey,” he said, and pointed into the trees off to the right. “I didn’t realize there were other reflectors out here.”

Vance and Marybeth both looked where he was pointing.

“Oh, no,” Marybeth whispered.

From high in the branches of the trees, two brilliant red eyes were peering down at them.

They were not bicycle reflectors, Vance thought.

“You two act like you’ve seen a ghost,” Zack said.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said to his brother. “I’ll tell you about it later.”

Zack shrugged and completed his turn. Then they were speeding east on Potter’s Creek Road, which led to the turnoff to Broad Run. Vance slid toward the driver’s side and peered out. There they were—two blazing red eyes—just beyond the nearest line of trees. Keeping pace with the car.

Zack’s head kept turning so he could look out at the brilliant red orbs. “Gotta be a bird of some kind. Big owl, maybe. A very, very big owl.”

“Or a sandhill crane,” Marybeth said. “That’s what some people thought it was. But it’s not. It’s not sandhill crane. Or an owl. Or a bird of any kind. Is it, Vance?”

“No. It’s not a bird,” Vance said.

“Suppose you two geniuses tell me what you think it is,” Zack said.

“Mothman,” Vance said. “I think it’s the Mothman.”

In the rearview mirror, his brother’s eyes narrowed as they bored into his. Then Zack started to laugh.
#


Reviews are VERY welcome. Please enjoy!

Friday, February 1, 2019

Enter the Lair of the Mothman



It's here. Today is the official release day for West Virginia: Lair of the Mothman, my debut novel in Elizabeth Massie's Ameri-Scares series. Just for good measure, last week I placed an order for the Kindle edition at Amazon.com and—sure enough—at precisely 12:01 a.m. this morning, the e-book appeared on my device. I will say I was pleasantly surprised to find that the paperback edition actually hit the streets a few days back, ahead of schedule; I even have a few copies in my possession at this point. Crossroad Press did an impressive job packaging this one. The cover, composed by artist David Dodd, consists of a photograph of the entrance to one of the TNT bunkers (called "igloos") in Point Pleasant, WV, which I took on my visit there in September; my own little doodle of the Mothman; and one of the Ameri-Scares series's signature kids' silhouettes.

The flyer above is one I whipped up at lunch one day last week. It's part of a package I've put together to send out to various outlets to hopefully generate some interest. Like all the books in the Ameri-Scares series, West Virginia: Lair of the Mothman is aimed primarily at readers ages 8 to 14, but adults will also enjoy these stories.

Thursday, January 10, 2019

West Virginia: Lair of the Mothman e-Book Now Available for Pre-Order!


Pre-Order Now
—the e-book (Kindle) edition of West Virginia: Lair of the Mothman, my first novel in Elizabeth Massie's Ameri-Scares series for young readers, published by Crossroad Press. The e-book will be delivered on February 1, 2019, and the paperback edition is scheduled to follow shortly.

In the town of Broad Run, West Virginia...
Vance Archer and Marybeth Wilkins, a pair of adventurous seventh graders, have discovered an exciting activity called geocaching—a kind of scavenger hunt using GPS technology—which leads them after hidden treasures in the woods around their community. However, on one of their outings, they encounter a frightening, half-seen creature with glowing red eyes watching them from the shadows. Soon, Vance begins to receive mysterious messages on his phone from a caller named Indrid Cold. He learns that this name is associated with the legendary Mothman, a strange, unearthly being that is said to appear when some terrible event is about to occur. Believing that they—as well as their friends and loved ones—may soon face mortal danger, Vance and Marybeth try to solve the increasingly strange clues before disaster strikes.
* * *
In September 2018, I spent a few days in Point Pleasant, WV, where the legend of the Mothman originated (see "Lair of the Mothman," September 30, 2018). Those days provided me with a wonderful sense of the actual location's mysterious and alluring character, which I believe will deepen the reader's immersive experience in this book.

The novel's brilliant cover, composed by Crossroad Press graphic artist David Dodd, incorporates a photograph I took of an old munitions storage bunker near Point Pleasant, where the Mothman was reputedly seen; an enhanced rendering of a drawing of the Mothman I created (see "Completed! Lair of the Mothman, October 18, 2018); and one of the series' signature kids' silhouettes. These elements come together to make a striking and atmospheric piece of art that I think captures the air of mystery at the heart of this novel.


Each Ameri-Scares novel is based on or inspired by an historical event, folktale, legend, or myth unique to that particular state.

Thursday, October 18, 2018

Completed! West Virginia: Lair of the Mothman


All righty, buckaroos, apart from a few final edits, West Virginia: Lair of the Mothman is done. It'll be zooming off to the publisher—Crossroad Press—this weekend or early next week. To celebrate, I had a spot of wine and doodled the little Mothman portrait you see here.

Here's a brief plot summary:

In the town of Broad Run, West Virginia…

Vance Archer and Marybeth Wilkins, a pair of adventurous seventh graders, have discovered an exciting activity called geocaching—a kind of scavenger hunt using GPS technology—which leads them after hidden treasures in the woods around their community. However, on one of their outings, they encounter a frightening, half-seen creature with glowing red eyes watching them from the shadows. Soon, Vance begins to receive mysterious messages on his phone from a caller named Indrid Cold. He learns that this name is associated with the legendary Mothman, a strange, unearthly being that is said to appear when some terrible event is about to occur. Believing that they—as well as their friends and loved ones—may soon face mortal danger, Vance and Marybeth try to solve the increasingly strange clues before disaster strikes.

Each Ameri-Scares novel is based on or inspired by an historical event, folktale, legend, of myth unique to that particular state.

Visit Elizabeth Massie's Ameri-Scares Facebook page here.

Read about my recent adventures in paradise... er... Point Pleasant, WV, here.

Sunday, September 30, 2018

Lair of the Mothman


Indeed, Lair of the Mothman is the title of my upcoming novel in Elizabeth Massie's Ameri-Scares series—to be released in 2019, probably early in the year—and this past weekend, I went to check out the original lair for myself. I've just returned from a couple of pleasant, if physically taxing, days in Point Pleasant, WV, where the Mothman legend originated. On this trip, I alternated between straight-up fact-finding and geocaching, though the latter actually is research, since the novel's plot involves geocaching

On Friday, 9/28, I left Greensboro right about noon, stopped for a handful of caches on the way, and passed through Charleston, WV, about 4:00 p.m. Just west of the city, I turned off on US 35, which follows the Kanawha River on a northwest course. Fifteen miles or so out from Point Pleasant, I saw massive plumes of steam rising into the sky from the James M. Gavin Power Plant, about ten miles north of Point Pleasant, across the river in Ohio. No matter where I was in the area, those massive chimneys became prominent sights.

The annual Mothman Festival in Point Pleasant took place a couple of weeks ago, and while it may be an immensely entertaining event, for my purposes, I preferred a more private, personalized sojourn. I had originally planned to leave early on Saturday and stay for one night, so I had booked a  room for that evening at the historic Lowe Hotel in downtown Point Pleasant. As it turned out, schedule-wise, I determined I could do Friday night as well, so I got myself a room at the Knight's Inn across the river in Gallipolis, OH. Not unexpectedly, the accommodations there were fairly spartan, but very comfortable and clean, and it came with more than the customary amenities for a cheap hotel room. I approve. After checking in there, I drove back across the Silver Memorial Bridge into Point Pleasant to wander about (read hunt geocaches) and procure some vittles. I was both surprised and pleased to encounter several local geocachers at the different caches I visited. Dinner happened at the Lighthouse Grill, where I ripped into a big old burger with some fabulous beer-battered fries. An enchanting spot.
One of the hundreds of clippings from the local
newspaper from the original Mothman scare

Now, I've seen The Mothman Prophecies several times, and I quite enjoy it. The movie was filmed in Kittanning, PA, and while the place looks enough like West Virginia on the screen, I was not at all surprised to find that the film's setting and the actual location bear little resemblance to each other. Point Pleasant is quaint, loaded with history (and geocaches), picturesque in the extreme, and the perfect small town for weird things to happen. Perhaps its most prominent centerpiece is the stainless steel Mothman statue, situated at Main and 4th Streets, constructed by scupltor Bob Roach in 2003. On this block, you will also find The Mothman Museum, which features Mothman memorabilia of every conceivable sort, as well as original newspaper clippings about the events that gave rise to the legend; massive amounts of information about the collapse of the Silver Bridge in December, 1967; and a multitude of original props from the film. The museum is the brainchild of Point Pleasant native Jeff Wamsley, whom I had hoped to meet, as I had become more than a little familiar with him via numerous Mothman documentaries I had watched over the past few weeks. Sadly, our paths never crossed, though I spent considerable time at the museum yesterday morning and found some enjoyable and informative conversation with the gentleman in charge of the place at the time.
Original art from The Mothman Prophecies on display at the Mothman Museum in downtown Point Pleasant
The first sightings of the Mothman occurred near the McClintic Wildlife Management Area, a.k.a. "The TNT Area," about 8 miles north of Point Pleasant. During WWII, a massive munitions plant and storage facility occupied this area, hence its explosive epithet. After the war, the place was abandoned, and much of it was simply overtaken by dense forest. There are still dozens of semi-spherical storage bunkers—known as "igloos"—to be found in that area. There are also dozens upon dozens of geocaches hidden around the TNT Area.
Informative map given to me at the Mothman Museum

And thus, Saturday morning, I headed north on Highway 62, continually drawing nearer to those massive, steaming chimneys from the Gavin power plant across the Ohio River. I stopped for a handful of caches along the way. About 11:00 a.m., I turned down Potters Creek Road, which features in my novel. And as I drove deeper into the incredibly dense forest, I began to get a sense of just how creepy this place could actually be.

For the most part, I was entirely alone out here, which I quite appreciated, although I could occasionally hear distant gunfire from a shooting range a couple of miles in. There are several night caches in the area, and I had initially thought about heading back after dark to give one or more of them a try. After learning the hard way about the sheer difficulty of navigating these woods even in daylight, I eventually decided against going out there alone at night....

I found about a dozen caches in the TNT area over four hours or so, and failed to find a couple of others. From these hunts, the thing I learned first and foremost was this: on geocaching.com's rating scale for terrain, with 1 being the easiest and 5 being the hardest, your average rating here is about an 8. At no time was this more evident than on a long hike out to a cache high up in a tree—titled "Wrong Turn"(GC5KNZV), after the movie of that name, which features a scene up in a tree. Being on a "trail" out here meant that the briers, brambles, and creepers would only swallow you in little pieces, rather than whole. Happily, I negotiated the tree-climbing challenge without issue. My egress from ground zero, however, was a whole 'nuther story. I ended up straying from the path by which I had entered—by no more than 50 feet, according to my GPS—and found myself surrounded by utterly impassable thickets in every direction. I cannot fathom how I even got into them, since I could scarcely go back the way I had come. The 200-some-foot bushwhack I ended up undertaking to get back to merely impenetrable spaces sewed up any hope of returning later, for between the tree climb and several hours of rigorous hiking, I was physically spent (or so I thought).

Despite my growing fatigue, I continued to hunt several more caches, a number of which brought me to overgrown, sealed-up igloos. At one igloo, however, I found the massive steel doors gaping wide, revealing only deep, subterranean darkness. Being occasionally foolhardy, especially when caching is involved, I went right on in to check it out, only considering—when I woke up at 5:00 a.m. in a cold sweat—that, had those doors somehow closed on me, I'd be there right now, and possibly for the rest of my abbreviated life. Ah, zut. As it turned out, the experience proved a hoot. The echo effect in that steel dome gave me an agreeable case of the chills.
A few miles out from the TNT area, the Gavin power plant chimneys across the Ohio river spewing steam
Left: Mr. Death, about 20 feet up in a tree; Right: Mr. Rodan, about 20 feet up in a tree,
holding onto Mr. Death for dear life
Old munitions storage igloo, sealed.
Old munitions storage igloo, gaping wide. You think I'm gonna go in there?
Dingy-dang right I'm going in there.
Eventually, I made my way out of the TNT area, alive and almost kicking, only to stop for a few more caches on the way back to town proper, one of which offered, but did not require, a change of elevation of the higher altitude persuasion. Naturally, I enjoyed availing myself to it.

Once ensconced in my room at the Lowe Hotel, I did a little sightseeing in the building itself. The Lowe Hotel dates back to the very early 20th century and is, without question, the most atmospheric setting in which I have ever taken lodging. The place is reputedly haunted—of course!—and while I encountered no spookiness of the ghostly variety, the decor and size of the place did bring to mind the old Broad Street Hotel in my hometown of Martinsville, where, when I was a kid, the family often went for dinner. I loved to explore those old hallways, though the dark stairwell leading upward scared the bejezus out of me. The place is, sadly, long gone, but the Lowe Hotel brought back every delicious frisson I ever experienced at the Broad Street Hotel in the early 1960s.
My home away from home, the Lowe Hotel
Come early evening, I was back out and about in the downtown area, where I went after a couple of multi/mystery caches that required considerable walking. I conquered these hides, then went roaming in search of dinner. I found it at what I had initially considered a somewhat dubious option—Two Waters, a Mexican-slash-Italian restaurant—but which proved quite, quite good. Grilled pork chop, salad, baked potato, roasted vegetables, and some of the best bread with olive oil and herbs I've ever had. Plus they had one of my favorite wines, Cantina Zacagnini Montepulciano, which complemented dinner beautifully.
My haunted hallway

After the day's rigorous activities, I found myself dead, deceased, bereft of life, and resting in peace, so I returned to my chambers at the Lowe Hotel, changed into my comfy clothes, and settled in for the evening—only to realize there were still two caches nearby, both of which required considerable walking around town to procure clues that would reveal the final coordinates. I suppose it goes without saying that I got up, threw on my boots, and went out after them. I had left in such a hurry, however, that when I reached the first of the two containers, I realized I had left my writing implement back in my room. Damnation, I had no means signing the frippin' log sheet! But yay—the container contained a pencil! However, I harbored grave doubts that the other would accommodate such an unforgivably forgetful geocacher. So I borrowed the pencil, made my way to the other cache, and used my borrowed implement to sign the log. Then, before returning to the hotel, I returned the pencil to its rightful location, as I would have felt guilty about depriving another unforgivably forgetful geocacher of such a basic benefit.

At last, I did return to my hotel room, fell over, and died.

Today, I came home. And much writing lies in wait for me.
My haunted chamber
The haunted parlor
Inside the igloo