Weird Witches’ War in Southern Oklahoma!

What do Lucio Fulci movies, ethanol wizardry, talking familiars, the KKK, a grimoire of Satanic spells, the legacy of slavery and racism, (barely) functional alcoholism, the works of Brad and Sherry Steiger, a magical six shooter, undead bog creatures from hell, weaponized flaming skull projectiles, Alex Jones-level technoparanoia, an apocalyptic radio preacher operating out of an abandoned Wal-Mart Tire & Lube, the imminent apocalypse of Southern Oklahoma, and America’s deep and unwavering connection to the occult have in common?

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Find out in The Lesser Swamp Gods of Little Dixie by Jonathan Raab.

Available now on Kindle, paperback, and through our online store.

“Magical Remingtons, Cornstalk-men, wild conspiracy theories and eldritch tomes—Raab takes the best of detective stories and weird horror to create something that celebrates the pulpiest of pulp, while examining the serious repercussions of oppression and racism in American history. The Lesser Swamp Gods of Little Dixie is a creepy, imaginative, and darkly humorous adventure.” – Christopher Slatsky, author of Alectryomancer and Other Weird Tales

 

“It’s all-too-easy for fun stories to sound brainless, or for smart stories to come off as dry. With The Lesser Swamp Gods of Little Dixie, Jonathan Raab walks that tightrope, keeping the humor sharp, the action pulpy, the stakes human, and the weirdness weird, without ever stumbling on one side or the other. A rare gift indeed.” – Orrin Grey, author of Painted Monsters & Other Strange Beasts

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The Hillbilly Moonshine Massacre – Chapter 2

Read chapter 1 here.

Land of the Free, Home of the Weird

thumbnail_originalSergeant Abraham Richards, Alpha Company, 1-107th Infantry, New York Army National Guard, walked down the armory steps into the cool October afternoon, his rucksack weighing heavily on his shoulders, his duffel bag to his side and straining his arm.

“Let me take that, son.” His father took the duffel and hefted it over his good shoulder.

“Careful, Dad.”

“You can’t tell your father to be careful, you know that,” Mom said, grimacing and rolling her eyes. She said it as a joke, but she was afraid it sounded like a nag. Everything was tense. Happy, sure, but tense. No one wanted to say the wrong thing, but silence didn’t seem right, either. But maybe saying nothing at all was the best thing for it. Continue reading “The Hillbilly Moonshine Massacre – Chapter 2”

The Hillbilly Moonshine Massacre – Chapter 1

Warrant Served On Quackenbush Road

thumbnail_originalLarry “Bucky” Green was a two-bit moonshiner with a rap sheet as long as a summer afternoon. Petty larceny, public drunkenness, public urination, illegal discharge of a firearm, and various other typical good-old-country-boy degenerate activities. There was one instance of felony assault (charges later dropped) in that thick folder of his. But, if anyone bothered to ask Sergeant Joe Johnson of the New York State Police, the guy on the bad end of that particular ass beating probably deserved it. But then again, nobody ever bothered to ask Johnson.

This was his turf, supposedly—the deep hills and back roads of central Cattaraugus County, New York. Populated by farmers in old houses, hillbillies and rural folk in single- and double-wide trailers, and effete ski freaks; tourists mostly, slumming it up with the locals in faux-rustic mansions scattered among the foreboding forested hills. Rumor was, even famed four-time-Super Bowl-losing-quarterback Jim Kelly had himself a big cabin out this way. The guy may not have had a ring, but he sure as hell had money. Continue reading “The Hillbilly Moonshine Massacre – Chapter 1”