Threnody

My newest geocache, placed in the Richardson Taylor Preserve near what I call The Bigfoot Trail (a.k.a. the Bill Craft Trail, for those who don't know better), is one that features a work of fiction on the cache's webpage. This one draws on lore I've included in several previous cache listings, incorporating elements from my own fiction; stories by Karl Edward Wagner, H.P. Lovecraft and others; movies such as Sinister and The Blair Witch Project; Twin Peaks, and more. The graphic above is one I put together to provide a bit of background to the cache story.

And here it is:

CASE #GC8P8P4
Recently, a digital dossier containing images and documents pertaining to certain occult phenomena in our local area came to the attention of the FBI. The dossier contained reproductions of materials dating back many decades, as well as a sound recording of an inexplicable event that reportedly occurred in the woods between Reedy Fork and Route 150 in the mid 1960s. This recording supposedly captured a supernatural "threnody," emitted from what appeared to be nothing more than an ancient, long-dead tree. Intensive research has determined that this tree was once used as part of an altar devised by an individual named Lillian Gadwick, a self-proclaimed witch (ref: The Curse of Lillian Gadwick & The Witch's Woods). Gadwick achieved notoriety in the late 18th century for abducting numerous individuals—children in particular—whom she offered as sacrifices in various black rituals.

The threnody in question is said to be a kind of code—a means of obtaining protection against the witch's restless spirit—actually produced by the spirits of the dead. Among the deities Gadwick worshipped was a Sumerian entity known as Bughuul (ref: SINISTER), sometimes called "The Eater of Souls." Some occult scholars are convinced that the threnody in question was produced by actual victims of Bughuul dating back many decades, if not centuries.

In order to protect themselves from Bughuul's hunger, ancient occultists signed their names on the Scroll of Moloch. The scroll itself was usually hidden near one of the Bughuul's "gateways" to this earth—in this case, a ancient tree possessed of preternatural power. The scroll could not be hidden at the gate, but had to be placed somewhere nearby. If you choose to investigate this case, be aware that danger is present. For your own welfare, you are encouraged to sign the scroll—if you can find it. Those who hid it took pains to keep it out of the reach of Bughuul and his minions.

#

To get the coordinates to the cache, one must listen to audio file that contains a "threnody" as well as a code provides the necessary information. The cache was published this morning and found not long afterward by friend Dave (a.k.a. Rhodorooter). Anyhoo, I do enjoy mixing geocaching and storytelling. My favorite things all in one basket.

And so. There it is.

Storms a-Comin'

We've had a very pleasant, cool, sunny spell for the past few days, although there are violent storms predicted for the next 24 hours or so. I rather hope we miss the worst of it, as I'm working at home and really can't afford a prolonged power outage. And in this area, any power outage is usually prolonged.

Anyhoo, it's been a beautiful Easter weekend. On Friday (Good), I headed on up to the old homestead in Martinsville, as I have quite regularly on the weekends.

Yesterday, just as I was preparing to head back to Greensboro, I received notification of a new geocache, courtesy of friend Fishdownthestair (a.k.a. Natalie) on the newest leg of the Dick & Willie Trail, very close to my neighborhood. How fortuitous! So, I very quickly packed up to leave (a little too quickly, as it turned out) and headed to the trailhead at the Smith River Sports Complex. From there, it was most of a mile hike to the cache, which I managed to find quickly — and I snagged the coveted FTF (first-to-find) honors. (There are no actual honors; a cache is a cache is a cache. The FTF doesn't mean diddly except perhaps for the bragging rights.)

There were a good many people on the trail, but everyone did a good job spacing themselves out and moving away to maximize social distancing. I was just about back at the Rodan Mobile when I noticed the Big Blue fellow you see in the photo above. He was hanging around on the stone base of one of the floodlight posts. I believe it's a Giant Stonefly (family Nemouroidea), about two inches long. These are not uncommon in the area, but I'm pretty sure I've never seen one this blue before. Very striking!

Last night, Ms. B. and I enjoyed takeout dinner from Uptown Charlie's as well as a nice bottle of Campo Viejo Reserva Rioja. We finished watching the French series Marianne on Netflix, which is well-done and creepy as hell. One of my favorite horror properties of the recent past.

I mentioned upstream that I had left Martinsville too quickly yesterday. What happened was I headed back home leaving behind important computer accessories. Oy! So, this morning, I decided to drive back and set right my boo boo. However, happily, another new Natalie cache had just come out on the Dick & Willie. So, for me, that meant another FTF, bright and early. Once again, she asked if I'd be kind enough to check the coordinates on a couple of other unpublished caches out there, to which I enthusiastically agreed (mind you, I do not claim FTF on caches I find prior to publication, as this would not be sporting). I was also able to do some much-needed maintenance on a few of my own caches in that area. So, while it was kind of a pain in the tail to go back so soon, I had a most enjoyable time and got in plenty of exercise.

Now, it's back to working on New Hampshire: Ghosts of the Skies. Just to remind you, in case you've forgotten: Watch the skies! Keep watching the skies!

A beautiful Easter morning on the Dick & Willie

Lots of space for social distancing this morning.

Spoiling my fun, they are! Actually, it's not out of the question that I may be the reason
for the new signs and railings at the pipes....

A Sad Day in April

Dad coached my City Recreation League basketball team, circa 1970.

My dad passed away on this day in 2001 — somehow, that was 19 years ago. I've written about him here extensively over the years. On today, I'm thinking of him a lot. It was nice that I spent most of last evening in his den at the old homestead, writing, watching movies, and listening to music. A peaceful, warm evening of remembrance.

April is a bad month for mortality. I've lost a lot of friends and loved ones, including a couple of cats, in April. Such a beautiful yet sad month.

A few links to older blogs about Dad, collected in one place:

• "4/11/01, My Dear Dad," April 11, 2009
  
• "Ten Years After," April 11, 2011
• "Twelve Years Ago Today," April 11, 2013
• "Dad's Day," June 16, 2013
• "Father's Day Reflections," June 19, 2016

Bigfeetz, Big Cachez, Big Bugz

Another day on the Bigfoot Trail, another geocache hidden by Skyhawk63 (a.k.a. Tom) and Punkins19 (a.k.a. Linda). Sadly, this will probably be it for a while out there; Tom and Linda put out five, which have been released over the past few days, and now I've found them all. The day proved perfect for hiking — not as hot as all that, sunny, no rain, not a living soul on the trail. Unlike most of the others in this bunch, the cache itself was a big one, with plenty of room for swag. I knew there was some alternate parking for the trail, so today I opted for it, which cut off a little distance on the hike. On my outbound trip, however, I left the trail altogether and decided to bushwhack my way back to the Rodan Mobile.

It was cool. I found some very lovely scenery I'd not encountered out there, plus a great big wood beetle, who was wandering about on a fallen log — no doubt getting in some exercise of his own.

I've gotten so accustomed to visiting the Bigfoot Trail over the past week that I don't know what I'm going to do without new caches to hike after out yonder. Well, there is some available space out there in those woods. Perhaps I'll hide one of my own.

Maybe even two.

Found a buddy.

The Green Ravine

More Green Ravine

Busted Teeth and Bigfoot Trailin' Days

Yessir, it was raining real water out there. Dumping, as a matter of fact. So I got wet on the trail
At least Bigfoot didn't get me.

But for the threat of ultimate doom hanging over our heads during the COVID-19 pandemic, this working at home/social distancing/minimum travel thing would be downright agreeable.

Apart from occasional trips for groceries, which we've mostly managed to get via the express pickup lanes, Ms. B. and I are keeping a lot of distance between us and the rest of the world. Well, except for today. Today, I had to make a trip to the dentist for a minor emergency: last night, just before bedtime, I busted a tooth. Took a bite of cereal, and — DAMN, that sumbitch was crunchy! Oh, wait. That's not cereal. That's half a freaking molar. Yep. So, first thing this morning, I hollered at my dentist; woke her up, even. Despite being a little grumpy at the disturbance, she was able to get me in at midday, round off the jagged corners, and fill the gaping gap with some composite material. The tooth will need a full crown, but we're hoping this patch will keep me in jawbreakers until such time as her office can re-open for crowning achievements.

Map of the Bigfoot (a.k.a. Bill Craft Trail)
at the Taylor-Richardson Preserve

Three days straight I've made it out to the Bigfoot Trail (a.k.a. the Bill Craft Trail) in the Taylor-Richardson Preserve just north of Greensboro. Happily, several new geocaches have come out there over the past few days, courtesy of friends Skyhawk63 (a.k.a. Tom) and his wife Punkins19 (a.k.a. Linda). Our local reviewers have wisely spaced out these releases, timewise, so there won't be a mad rush for a slew of caches all at once. As it is, these newest are located in an area that is generally little-traveled. (It's entirely possible that Bigfoot may have thinned the herd.) On Sunday, I put in over eight miles on the trail; yesterday, about four miles; and today, about two miles. My feet have complained a little, but otherwise, it's been most invigorating.

Yesterday, after knocking off from work, I headed out to the northernmost trailhead, intent on hiking after the newest published cache. I had no sooner arrived when the bottom fell out, so for the next twenty minutes I sat in the car while the bright, clear blue sky dumped tons of water and rumbled with thunder. After a while, I said fuckity-fuggit, pulled out my umbrella, and set off down the trail. After another ten minutes or so, the rain stopped and the steam began. It is one winding trail, I can tell you. Anywhere along the way, if your GPS indicates your destination is a quarter mile away as the crow flies, you can count on hiking at least a mile. Anyhoo, I did snag another nice FTF (first-to-find) after getting a couple the day before.

I had just scrubbed up, signed the log, scrubbed the container, returned it to its hidey hole, and scrubbed my hands again when I heard a Bigfoot approaching. Oh no! But wait... That's not Bigfoot. It's just friend Night-Hawk (a.k.a. Tom). OH NO! Anyhoo, we commenced the social distancing, and some pleasant social distancing it was. Once back at the trailhead, the goats at nearby farm started hollering friendly greetings at us. One of the little guys was up on the roof of a small shed, and he made like he wanted to come visit with us, except he couldn't quite figure out how to get down.

Nice little goat taking the air near the trailhead

Today, another new cache, another trip out to the Bigfoot Trail. This time, as I much anticipated, friend Robgso (a.k.a. Old Rob), being retired and all, got out there midday to snag the FTF. No matter; a cache is a cache is a cache. This one resides near an overlook platform just above the marsh out there. Now, yesterday, Night-Hawk and I got the idea that one of the upcoming scheduled caches might just be hidden by that overlook. So, on our hike back to our respective socially distanced vehicles, we detoured to the overlook and gave it a pretty good once-over to see if we could find a container. Alas, we did not. Had we expanded our search area just a tad, we almost certainly would have found it in advance of its publication at geocaching.com. But I claimed it today, and I quite relished the opportunity to get out in those woods again. There's at least one more cache out there, just waiting for publication, so I'll have soon another trip to look forward to.

And, this evening, it's back to working on New Hampshire: Ghosts From the Skies, on which I'm making slow but steady progress. I think this is going to be one fun little entry in the Ameri-Scares series.

Stay well, you.

The woods around the marsh. Bigfoot lives around here, doncha know.

Overlookin'

A view of the marsh from the platform

"Timber!" at Last

Lots of cars at all the local trails

Since getting out for exercise is one of the few legitimate reasons for going out and about under the current lockdown, the local trails are packed. Now, I frequent these trails, and I'm often out here when not another living soul is using them. I'm assuming that massive numbers of people now need alternative venues for exercise and hit the trails, rather than walk on neighborhood sidewalks and such. I had planned to come out after "Timber" (GC8NHY3; see "Quarantine Spring," April 3, 2020), which I had failed to locate last week, so about 11:00 this morning, I headed up to the Bigfoot Trail (a.k.a. the Bill Craft Trail) at the Taylor-Richardson Preserve just up the way.

About the time I got there, I received notifications on my phone that two new caches had been published — right there on the Bill Craft Trail! Thing is, the trail is almost 4 miles long, and both these new caches resided up yonder at the other end. I contemplated moving the car to the far trailhead, near Northern Guilford High School, but I decided against it and opted to put in the big hike. And... lord have mercy... did I ever hike.

I occasionally encountered folks on the trail, but in all cases, we kept considerable distance between us. After the first mile or so, I hardly saw a living soul out there. Rather than stop at "Timber," which lies at about the halfway point, I kept on trucking, figuring I might be able to get the first-to-find on one or both of the new caches ("Lake Rhodorooter" [GC8NRJF] and "The Outdoor Classroom" [GC8NRQW]), placed by friends Skyhawk63 (a.k.a. Tom) and Punkins19 (a.k.a. Linda). Indeed, once I finally got way out yonder, I managed to make short work of both, and sign the coveted FTF slots on the logsheets. Now, needless to say, since we don't want to be leaving any microscopic nasties around, I scrubbed up both before and after handling the containers and logs, and, just for good measure, sanitized the exteriors of both containers. Those caches are now probably the cleanest things in Greensboro.

Even getting back to "Timber," it was a pretty long hike. I was kicking myself for not having processed the clues that had been evident in the puzzle solution on the online geocache page. Had the obvious smacked me in the head while I was out there on Thursday, I have no doubt I would have found the cache on my first outing. As it was, armed with the knowledge I should have acquired earlier, I made short work of this lovely little hide. The very well camouflaged container is one created by friend Robgso (a.k.a. Old Rob) and hidden by Ms. Fishdownthestair (a.k.a. Natalie). No matter, I greatly enjoyed both trips out to the woods, particularly since so much other time is now spent at home. I understand there's another handful of caches soon to be published on the Bigfoot Trail, and I'm sure looking forward to heading out there again.

I did find my first tick of the season, alas. The little bastard had just bitten me but hadn't really locked on. I hope he was the only one of his nasty little kind I might have brought home. Hateful little shits.

Y'all be safe.

This not horse area. You not horse here.

The woods were beautiful today.

Old feller successfully social distancing

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.

Quarantine Spring

Today was the first day that really looked and felt like spring. It's gotta be the weirdest spring of my life, as it's the first and only spring in which I've had to live with a pandemic as a partner. So far, Ms. B. and I are doing fine, working from our respective homes (and I pray to god our jobs hold out, else life will be an unpretty thing), staying inside but for necessary errands and some serious exercise, of which geocaching has been a most welcome part. I've had to have some major work done to the old homestead in Martinsville, so I've spent quite a bit of time here these past few weeks. Right now, the season resembles spring as I remember it growing up — brilliant, comfortable, fragrant, peaceful. It's certainly different in that mingling with other human beings brings on a risk unlike any most of us have ever faced.

I was just reading a blog from some individual whose medical knowledge appears to be nominal, and whose callous attitude pisses me off, but there does seem to be some sense in the premise that, in order to ultimately overcome this particular Corona virus, a herd immunity must be established, and that can't happen while the world is in quarantine. In order for herd immunity to happen, more humans than not, especially those with stronger constitutions, essentially need to be the guinea pigs who are exposed to it, so that antibodies will develop to counter this specific threat. It sounds logical. Yet, I am far more inclined to listen to experts in the field — epidemiologists, medical personnel on the front lines, et. al. — and view the evidence, globally, as it presents itself. There's certainly no shortage of human beings being exposed to the virus. Look how well the unintended "experiment" worked in Italy, where massive numbers of people were exposed before the country undertook serious isolating measures. Herd immunity may happen in time (likely generations in the best-case scenario), but it strikes me as both foolish and callous to think it will happen naturally without casualties and economic damage far in excess of the current, recommended alternative measures of holding the beast at bay.

Anyway, I guess that's neither here nor there. I keep myself informed inasmuch as possible, but I am no expert in the field of epidemiology, and there's plenty of disagreement among experts as to the predicted trajectory of COVID-19. I'll take the wisdom imparted by those whose expertise in epidemiology comes from years of devoted study over some dilettante on the internet. I bring it up only because, on a strictly Darwinian level, the argument in question offers some validity.

Happily, the geocaching, while necessarily on the back-burner as of late, has at least offered a few nice opportunities for both rigorous exercise and serious seclusion in the woods. Our local geocache reviewers have wisely opted to not abandon publishing new caches altogether — at least as long as the activity is legally permitted. Rather, they are approving only geocaches that are demonstrably remote. No urban caches, none in areas likely to be overwhelmed by eager first-to-find hounds. I think that's a far more reasonable approach than shelving geocaching altogether. Woodland geocaching is far, far lower risk than going to the grocery store, or even taking a walk on streets where the human population is anything but sparse. Thus, I've made a handful of outings into the deep woods and am so much the better for it.

Just hanging around at the Bigfoot Trail

Yesterday, a new puzzle cache came out, over on the Bigfoot Trail, courtesy of friend Natalie, a.k.a. Ms. Fishdownthestair. Let it be known that Ms. FDTS has a mean streak, and while I managed to solve her puzzle with relative ease, the cache itself proved elusive. And when I say elusive, I mean I couldn't find the little fucker. In my zeal to get out to the woods, I did overlook certain info that surely would have helped me narrow down my search area. Alas! Anyway, while I was searching, friend Christopher (a.k.a. Ranger Fox) arrived on the scene. We conscientiously maintained far more than the required social distancing distance from each other, but after a couple of hours searching at and around the host — a massive, massive fallen tree — we ended up abandoning the hunt. At least I was able to get out there and actually hunt something, rather than spend ungodly amounts of time trying to solve a puzzle on my computer. I go caching to get away from the damned computer, and I can't say I don't resent it somewhat when the majority of caches coming out in the area are puzzles that require (sometimes extensive) computer time before you can get out on the trail to actually go geocaching. Fuck that noise, I say.

I see that friends Old Rob (a.k.a. Robgso), Tom (a.k.a. Skyhawk63), and Linda (a.k.a. Punkins19) managed to find that wretched little monster today, though not without considerable difficulty, as recorded in their online logs. I'll head back out there sometime this weekend, I reckon. Today, after work, I went after a couple of new caches at the Knight Brown Nature Preserve near Belews Lake. These weren't very difficult, though they did involve a decent hike on the winding trails through the preserve.

This evening, I enjoyed a superb burger from Third Bay restaurant, which is one of our favorite dining establishments in Martinsville. I was pleased to find they've remained open for carryout, and even more pleased that their business is absolutely booming during this period of wholesale business closures. I hope it remains so.

I do have quite a bit of writing and writing-related business to attend to, so... for now... I'm doing a bit better than hanging in there. Tomorrow's another day, but weathering this one, and the past few, hasn't strained anything. I take nothing for granted. I'm just taking what I can as I can. I'm actually less stressed out than usual over this past couple of weeks. I'm certain it's a result of not having to deal with so much human garbage on the highways on my ordinary commute to and from work. I like people a hell of a lot better when their paths don't cross mine so fucking often.

That said, I'm gonna keep on liking most of you. A whole lot. OK?

Mom's azaleas, which have grown along the front of the old homestead for almost all of my 60+ years

View from the front porch, toward the creek and the houses above on Sam Lions Trail

You find the weirdest shit growing in the woods sometimes.

Old Rodan in happy isolation at the Knight Brown Nature Preserve near Belews Lake

No Booze Before Its Time

An Omen

Is that a skull I see in the image at left, or just a couple of overlapping bootprints in the remnants of the mud that washed over the front porch during the last big rain? I'm gonna say it's a skull because, well, to my morbid eye it certainly resembles one. I have quite a lot of skulls all around the house, so I reckon it can't hurt to have another. I'm inclined to leave it there, at least until it's effaced either by Mother Nature or me. I'll take it as a good omen. Or a talisman to ward away bringers of viruses. Or something.

Another day in Pandemic Seclusion Land, generally unremarkable. I worked at home, as I have for over a week now. I'm making slow but steady progress on Ameri-Scares New Hampshire: Ghosts From the Skies (for a little background on my newest entry in the series, check out "Now Brewing: New Hampshire: Ghosts From the Skies," February 10, 2020).

I've been trying to get in plenty of exercise during these, my reclusive days. Since one is allowed to go out and about for exercise, I've hit the trails several times. Happily, for the most part, they have not been choked with human beings, unlike some trails and parks I'm aware of. The geocaching has been sparse, but I did go out and maintain one of mine yesterday on the nearby Osprey Trail, which is probably my favorite of the local trails because it typically is the least-used. Ironically, it's one of the most scenic.

I've been on one of my periodic daikaiju kicks, and during the past couple of weeks have availed myself to the original Godzilla (1954), Godzilla Raids Again (a.k.a. Gigantis - The Fire Monster, 1955), King Kong vs. Godzilla (1963), Mothra vs. Godzilla (a.k.a. Godzilla vs. the Thing, 1964), Ghidrah - The Three-Headed Monster (1964), Monster Zero (1965), Rodan (1957), Varan - The Unbelievable (1958), and Atragon (1963). Mostly the Japanese versions. I'm sure I'll be watching a metric shit ton more daikaiju treats in the coming days. I've been due for one of these benders.

And now it's back to the novel. You will find me back here sometime later; perhaps tomorrow.

Niters.

Spiders, Food Lion Fails, and Zooming Through Lockdown

The Supper Club Flash Mob

As with many places around the globe, our area is pretty much in lockdown but for essential outings and such. Fortunately, at least for the time being, there are enough "essential" activities that allow one to get out of the house while remaining all but risk-free of infection. This evening, since our regular Supper Club gang couldn't physically get together, we spent a pleasant hour or so video yakking on Zoom. That turned out to be a remarkably fun treat for the lot of us. Under the circumstances, for me, a little Tempranillo went a long way.

Last night, I headed up to Martinsville to the old homestead, as there was necessary business to handle. But it was also pleasant since, for me, the seclusion there feels deeper, more profound than it does here in Greensboro. Unfortunately, I did have to stop at the neighborhood Food Lion to snag a few supplies, and...hooooey...was that ever a bad idea. Although Martinsville is not currently experiencing a major Corona virus outbreak, prudent safety measures only make sense, and it appeared that not a living soul in the store was taking this to heart. No personal buffer zones, no sanitary wipes to be found, filthy dirty grocery carts... holy shit, I probably should have just vacated the premises. As it was, I wiped down the cart with my own sanitizer supply, forced myself away from encroaching human animals, and then, once back at the house, literally bleached every container I had. Although I undertook every possible safety measure I could, I don't have a good feeling about that experience. Not at all.

Back at the homestead, I had a hankering to watch The Sound of Music, which triggers some very deep—and very pleasant—personal memories. For that reason, it's not a movie I can be objective about.  I'm pretty sure I know far more non-fans than fans of this movie. Ms. B. is not a fan. I would certainly never ask her to watch it with me. Regardless, last night, it hit the right spot at just the right time. For this, I am pleased.

After the filum, I set foot out on the back porch, and what should I encounter but a couple of the biggest, meanest-looking multi-legged critters ever to grace the homestead (and we get quite a few of them there). Fishing spiders, best as I can determine; easily a five-inch legspan on the bigger of the two. Actually, they turned out to be neighborly enough—well-tempered and reasonably polite. And they sat still long enough for me to get some decent pics and video.

I hit the road for home around 11:00 this morning, stopping in Eden at the Smith River Greenway to get in some much-needed hiking and exercise. Some while back, regular geocaching partner, Ms. Fishdownthestair, had hidden a few caches along the greenway and asked if I'd mind checking her coordinates prior to her publishing them, as she had some doubts as to their accuracy. Well, of course I did not mind, so I hiked, snagged a few Munzees along the way, and verified that the lady's coords were good. Although a good many living humans were out and about on the trail, my course largely kept me away from them. That was nice.

I did end up watching an utterly wretched horror movie called The Hallows this evening. Easily the most annoying film I've seen since The Babadook, which at least had a reasonably engaging story. I should have heeded my instinct to shut the damned thing off halfway through.

The possibility of some hiking and caching tomorrow does exist, so one can hope.

Stay safe, y'all.

Old dude enjoying some outdoor isolation

View of the Smith River from the greenway. Somewhat high water.

Gods of Moab on Kindle for FREE

STARTING TODAY — 3/25/20 — for the next five days, you can pick up my novella, The Gods of Moab, for your Kindle for FREE.

A pleasant New Year's Eve outing becomes an experience in otherworldly horror when two close-knit couples discover a shocking secret in the darkest corners of the Appalachian mountains. At an opulent mountain inn, Warren Burr, his fiancee, Anne, and their friends, Roger and Kristin Leverman, encounter a religious zealot named John Hanger, who makes it his business to bear witness to them of his peculiar... and disturbing... faith. His efforts rebuffed, Hanger insidiously assumes control of the couples' technological devices, leading them to stumble into unexpected, surreal landscapes... landscapes inhabited by nightmarish beings that defy explanation. To survive, Warren and his friends must not only escape the deadly entities that pursue them but somehow stop John Hanger's nightmare-plague from spreading to the outside world.

"The Gods of Moab is a chilling novella of Lovecraftian horror by Stephen Mark Rainey, acclaimed author of Balak, Blue Devil Island, Other Gods, The Nightmare Frontier, Dark Shadows: Dreams of the Dark (with Elizabeth Massie), and former editor of the award-winning Deathrealm Magazine."

The Gods of Moab is just the ticket to put a little fear in your new year. Check it out from Amazon.com here: The Gods of Moab by Stephen Mark Rainey

Love it or hate it, Amazon.com reviews are always appreciated. Thanks!

What Manner of Witchery Is This?

In an effort to maintain some semblance of normality during the Corona virus pandemic, a little geocaching felt in order today. In this case, rather than hunting caches, I placed one. Boy, did I place one. To claim it, prospective finders must accomplish certain feats of agility and strength (and possibly air a host of grievances).

Just over three years ago, I hung a cache way up in a tree and concocted a bit of faux folklore for its background (see "The Curse of Lillian Gadwick," February 18, 2017). Recently, that tree has succumbed to natural — or perhaps supernatural — forces, which have rendered it increasingly untenable (see photo below) as a host. So, I decided to archive the original cache and come up with a sequel. Thus we now have "The Curse of Lillian Gadwick II."

Here's the story behind the cache....

"One of Guilford County's lesser-known legends involves a woman named Lillian Gadwick (1723–1781), reputedly a practitioner of witchcraft, who resided in the area that is now Lake Townsend in northern Greensboro. The story goes that she lived alone in a cabin in the woods and was suspected of abducting and slaughtering children from the nearby community, then known as Capefair — though numerous investigations could produce no evidence of such deviltry. However, just prior to the Battle of Guilford Courthouse, a company of troops from General Cornwallis's advancing army came upon her cabin and caught her 'rendering the fat' of several young children, which she presumably intended to consume as a means of enhancing her supernatural abilities. Horrified by this unspeakable act, the troops hanged her from a tree, burned her cabin to the ground, and then departed to rejoin Cornwallis. However, the troops failed to report and, in fact, were never heard from again — except for one, who came back stark, raving mad.

The host of the original "Lillian Gadwick" hide, now feeling
a little tired. If you zoom in close, you may be able
to see the cache container hanging on a branch.

"A scout was sent to find the missing men. At the site of Lillian Gadwick's cabin, he discovered only a number of strange stick figures hanging from trees — forty-two to be precise, the same as the number of troops who had vanished. (Such 'witch symbols' have been referenced in literature and movies, such as in Karl Edward Wagner's short story 'Sticks' and in the films The Blair Witch Project and its sequel, Blair Witch.

"Little else is known about Lillian Gadwick, but she reportedly kept as a familiar a strange creature called Oren Grey, which resembled a huge possum with a grotesque human face. (The witch Keziah Mason, as recounted in H.P. Lovecraft's story, 'Dreams in the Witch House,' kept a similar creature, named Brown Jenkin). Though no such creature as Oren Grey can be proven to exist, it was said to keep itself hidden in dark, hard-to-reach wooded areas, traditionally avoiding human contact except when it accompanied the witch on her unholy expeditions to abduct local children. Certain curses cast by witches who practice dark magic can supposedly alter time and space, and there were those who said Lillian Gadwick possessed such power."

Geocachers who spot one of the 'witch symbols' may be assured they are very close to the cache. I hope the container will remain in place at least as long as its predecessor. As you may have guessed, caches that involve a certain change of altitude appeal to me. Hiding this one was damned fun too, as I ended up climbing a series of trees before I found just the right spot.

And a damned fine, scary spot it is.

A Solitary Man

What a week it's been... and the trial is basically just beginning. I must say, I never thought a pandemic such as COVID-19 would—or even could—occur in my lifetime. Such an outbreak has always seemed a thing of the distant past—well nigh impossible, given that infectious diseases, while still serious, had basically been conquered. Most of the country—the world, for that matter—is almost at a screeching halt, with whole states shut down in an effort to contain this monster. Most places are losing, at least in the short term, especially in Europe. China, where it all began, is finally beginning to recover. For us, there's no telling how long this state of affairs will prevail. Without a doubt, it will have long-lasting repercussions, locally, nationally, and globally.

For me personally, the week got off to an upsetting start, with a medical issue (not virus-related), rearing its ugly head. I've been through it before, but this time it came on with a vengeance. I ended up at the doctor on yesterday, and I'll have to go through a couple of tests yet. I think the worst is past now; at least, I hope so because I'd much rather contemplate the potentially lethal onset of the Corona virus in relative peace and comfort. Come Monday, most of us from the office will be working at home (which is a generally desirable prospect but for the fact I will be fending off cats who will be alternately excited/dismayed/annoyed by my uncustomary daytime presence). It doesn't help company morale that, in a masterfully ill-timed move by our new CEO, we're losing 30% of our already minuscule staff. It doesn't exactly fill me with confidence about weathering this national emergency with a long-held and very satisfying career intact.

I do personally know a handful of people who have been deeply impacted by the virus; a few who have actually been infected (and who have, so far, soldiered through it), and a few who have loved ones or friends who aren't necessarily looking at a positive outcome. A couple of my own family members suffer from compromised immune systems and are thus at especially high risk. Hell, I'm in the age bracket that is most likely to be seriously affected. So, yes, I am taking all recommended precautions, and so far they haven't turned life totally topsy-turvy. As I said, though, it's still very early for us here in this region, and at the rate circumstances keep evolving, all this may be obsolete by the time I finish typing it.

For this evening, I'm comfortably ensconced at the old homestead, with adequate supplies, decent food from Shun Xing Chinese restaurant, and some bourbon. Around sunset, I settled myself on the front porch with a good drink to enjoy a smidgen of mellow time while I could. I wandered around the yard a bit, took a few pics of the place where I grew up, and contemplated the Fugue Devil, which has roamed the woods behind the house since I was a little kid. At twilight, I still get a lovely little chill from the memory of that juvenile night horror, which made such a vivid, lasting impression on me. There's a distinctly Lovecraftian atmosphere about this place, even though there are neighbors not particularly far away. I find a certain peace in this isolation, at least in the short term. A peace occasionally broken by odd little noises that seem to come from everywhere and nowhere, just as I recall them from my youth.

It's so much better indulging in those old, otherworldly fears than ruminating on the shitty, depressing horror the Corona virus represents.

The view from the front porch at dusk

The Fugue Devil's woods behind the house. Still creepy after all these years.

Forever Alone?

The Corona virus (COVID-19) is the big thing now, and rightfully so, I reckon, as it's brought most of the world to a screeching halt. And here in the States, it hasn't even set in with full force yet. How it'll all play out is a mystery, and I hope we all come through it alive and without going bankrupt. Sadly, there's some doubt on this front. Social distancing—virtual isolation—is the order of the day, and while Ms. B. and I are still going into the office every day, there is a good possibility we'll soon be working from home.

In the meantime, there's nothing for it but to live life as one can while maintaining distance from as many other human beings as possible. For the most part, this bothers me not a whit, as I typically long for not being shoved in amongst the teeming population. Today, after work, a couple of geocaches awaited my attention at High Point's Piedmont Environmental Center, which boasts quite a few excellent hiking trails through many acres of woodland. PEC adjoins nearby Gibson Park and connects to it via the Bicentennial Greenway. After work today, I headed yonder to see if I might turn up those new hides. Happily, I did. I also came upon what I took to be a somewhat sad bit of tree graffiti, which you can see in the photo above. "Forever Alone," it reads, and on today of all days, while intentionally isolating myself, it seemed strangely apt.

My quarry today was two puzzle caches, which tend to be my least favorite kind, since they too often require spending considerable computer time to acquire the necessary coordinates. My whole purpose for geocaching is to get out there, not spend yet more time on the computer, which occupies massive portions of my daily life (pounding out these blogs doesn't count, since I generally enjoy writing them). The caches themselves were nice enough. But the highlight of today's hike was revisiting an old nemesis: the tree—or what remains of it—where once upon a time hung "Hung Up" (GC3D9N6) a cache I sought and saw—at achingly close range—but never managed to claim.

"Hung Up" came out in 2012. It resided at a fairly frightful altitude in a tree that appeared big and solid. I had gone out to the greenway, scoped out the tree, and managed to spy the cache—a wee little bison tube—way up in the highest branches. I didn't think too much about scurrying on up there because, well, the tree was huge, and it appeared healthy. I hadn't gone up very far, though, when I grabbed a thick branch to pull myself up, only to have it pop off in my hand. That didn't deter me from continuing to climb, but the higher I went, the more I found mushy bark and wobbly branches. All signs of what I took to be pervasive rot.

"Hung Up," not so hung up.
More like submerged.

I couldn't have been more than three to five feet from the cache, which hung on a vertical branch. I had just started for it when I heard a very distinct, very loud crackkkkk come from behind me.

It had probably taken me a full five minutes to ascend the 30 or 40 feet into that tree. It took me about two and a half seconds to get back down to the bottom.

Coming so close, only to be thwarted by fears for my personal safety, galled me like little else. I ended up logging a DNF that day, and I did go back a time or two with the idea I might actually try it again, especially after a handful of other geocachers successfully made the climb. However, some time ago, I received notification from another cacher that "Hung Up" was no longer hanging. In fact, it lay somewhere down in High Point Lake. A massive branch from the tree—the very one I had climbed—had fallen and taken the cache with it. Although this event occurred many months after my attempt, it still felt like a narrow escape. Had I, or any other geocacher, been up there when that branch fell... well, that probably would have been someone's final tree climb. While I've taken plenty of risks, some fairly extreme, to get my signature on a little piece of paper, I do try to make at least marginally responsible decisions upon weighing those risks. In the case of "Hung Up," I reckon I did.

Still, it pisses me off I never did claim that little sucker. Ah, well. It was kind of nice to revisit the scene of the crime, as it were.

And I finished up the outing with some take-out from Thai Chiang Mai. That there was a winner, was what that was.

I feelz the forever alone.

Left: the "Hung Up" tree in 2012; Right: the same tree today, missing a few crucial tree parts.
The geese did not appear overjoyed to see me.

Another Day for Old Farts

Another gathering of old farts, another Sunday on the caching trail. At age 60, I was the youngest of the gang on today's outing to the Hillsborough/Chapel Hill/Carrboro area. None of the other Usual Suspects were available, so it was just Robgso (a.k.a. Old Rob), Deifenbaker (a.k.a. Scott) and this old radioactively mutated giant flying Japanese rubber reptile. Not an overly strenuous day, unlike yesterday (see "Run to the Outback," March 7, 2020), but we did put in a fair distance (roughly five miles of hoofing it) and conquered a handful of marginally hairy terrain challenges. The meandering Bolin and Jones Creeks constantly bisected our chosen woodland routes, thus forcing us to utilize whatever crude crossings presented themselves. In the photo above, you'll seem me strolling across one such makeshift crossing, the odd photographic effect rendered by Diefenbaker pressing the wrong camera button.

We finished the day with a mere ten finds, but at least we worked for most of them. For our reward, we tracked down some vittles at The Spotted Dog, one of our favorite Carrboro dining destinations. The Bloody Mary wasn't much alcoholic, but the prevalent hot peppers in the formula sure hit the spot.

Next weekend, we're hoping for more of the regular irregulars to deign show themselves.

Horatius at the Bridge. Oh, wait, no. That's just Rob and Scott.

Let's do it again, do it (do it), lets do it again (do it), mmm, do it again, do it again

Scott trying to figure out how to get it all back together

Lunch at The Spotted Dog. Scott's big old cheddar burger, my big old turkey burger.

Darkness Is Just Across the Street

I am very pleased to announce that my short story, "Night Crier," will be appearing in the premiere issue of 34 Orchard, a new online literary magazine edited by Kristi Petersen Schoonover.

From 34 Orchard's website:

"If it’s not a ghost in your own home, it might be the ghost that lives in that house they told you about at the end of the block—the one that’s always for sale, or the one that is abandoned, staring at you with darkened windows like doleful, empty eyes: 'Stay away from the house at 34 Orchard Street,' the older kids told you."

My story is part very painful autobiography, part unsettling fantasy. Middle-aged Bill Caswell has lived his life terrified by eerie cries that ring from the woods every Halloween night. His mother, who suffers from Alzheimer's, begins to hear the sounds as well, which proves that Bill is not suffering from a mere product of his imagination. He learns he must venture back in his mind to the days of his youth and conquer an age-old darkness before it comes forth to conquer him.

Visit 34 Orchard's website here, and please do reserve a copy of the first issue for yourself!