enter the record room
that Linger
The Paper That Remembers
Founded in 1871 by Pearl and Leander Duval, The Stantonville Record has long been the city’s most trusted source of truth.
We report what matters — from city meetings and potlucks to things that knock when no one’s around to answer. In Stantonville, ancestral wisdom isn’t superstition. It’s survival.
If you’re new to town, welcome. Mind your manners. Mind the bells. And above all: don’t ignore what don’t ignore you.
Passed down through generations, the paper remains a family-run institution — now led by their great-great-great grandchild, Parker Duval, who carries the ink-stained torch with the same sharp eye and reverence for what matters most.
1871
Started
Mill & Marrow District
Downtown, Stantonville
Location:
From the Editor's
Desk
Highlights:
🕯️ Bellhook Quarter
A musician at The Thimble played a set she doesn’t remember — in a language no one could place.
One guest cried. One vomited.
She’s since lost her voice.
No recordings survived.
🐦 Downtown: Birds are gathering in strange formations above The Lindo Building rooftops. The same pattern, every morning. Some say it’s a warning. Others say it’s a map. Update: The flock is pointing South...
🧺 Maferne Cookout
Someone brought a dish that wasn’t on the table when they left the house.
No one saw who placed it.
Everyone who ate it dreamed of a woman standing in the river, humming.
July arrives with its heat in the bones, not just the air. You feel it in the elbows, in the backs of knees, in the kind of stillness that makes you wonder if the wind is holding its breath.
We had a funeral and a graduation in the same week, and both smelled like magnolia and gunpowder. That’s the kind of month July is. A little joy. A little grief. Both loud.
The students at SSU walked like they were being watched — and maybe they were. Folks say the sesquicentennial stirred the soil. The old names, the forgotten ones, they were listening. I believe them. I saw a woman cross the lawn in Sunday white, holding a hand no one else saw. That’s all I’ll say.
Out by the water in Sweetshore Flats someone’s been leaving jars of creekwater and honeycomb on the dock. A resident suspects the man in the red shoes. Mr. Henry, who ain't even from Sweetshore, suggest you mind yo damn business, his words, and leave that man to his business.
Dear Readers,
Musings of
July 2025
WITNESS: E. Halton
STATUS: FILED
Mama Rozey’s rocking chair moved last night.
She’s been gone 12 years, but her son swears it only rocks like that when she’s upset.
He left out a slice of pound cake this morning, just in case.
Oak Grove
"
WITNESS: Althea “Tee” Dawson, SSU Housing
STATUS: FILED
A summer student in Dorm 4C says she hears breathing in her room every night around 3AM.
Heavy. Rhythmic. Close.
She lives alone in a single.
The air smells like mint and sweat when it happens.
She’s been sleeping with the light on.
SSU Summer Session
Lakes House
"
STATUS: FILED
Folks in Lenox say the red soil’s been bleeding again.
First time since the renaming.
Boots come back stained, no matter how dry the weather.
Some still call it Oxblood Fields, but only under their breath.
Red Soil, Red Root
"
