Sterling City

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a novella

A moon explodes and a marriage dies. An impossible creature rises from the tall grass, watches a farmer’s circle system crawl across the field like a giant insect. That farmer watches back. His wife’s footprints are there in the dirt. The fire in the sky leaves his shadow crisp and deep.

This is Texas without the cowboy hat. This is Texas with a soft rain of cosmic debris sifting down over it. This is a dark, dangerous thing hiding in the cellar, but this is also a girl threading her bangs out of her face and smiling with her eyes at a boy.

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Three Miles Past


A collection of three powerfully disturbing novellas by multiple award-winning author, Stephen Graham Jones.
There are lines that probably shouldn’t be crossed, doors that should stay shut, thoughts that shouldn’t be considered. In these three novellas by Stephen Graham Jones, the dead talk, ancient evil opens its eyes, and that guy across the parking lot, he’s watching you, and has been for a while now.

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Not for Nothing

NFN ARC cover

The detective novel resulting when Barfly‘s Henry Chinaski stumbles into Larry McMurtry’s small-town Texas and an Elmore Leonard plot. The Town is Stanton, Texas, population 3,000. Your name is Nicholas Bruiseman, and you’re a disgraced homicide detective so down on your luck you’ve been forced to take a job as the live-in security guard for the town’s lone storage facility. At last, you can finally get on with the business of drinking yourself to a better state of mind, except the ghosts of childhood keep rising all around you. You might have been done with Stanton once upon a time, but Stanton’s hardly done with you. This is your new life—starting over with nothing in the town you grew up in, and trying to survive a case where there’s one dead body and an old high school yearbook full of suspects. Let the class reunion begin, and if you can get paid this time, even better. After all, you’re not doing this for nothing…

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Floating Boy and the Girl Who Couldn’t Fly

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written with Paul Tremblay

“And now the boy’s lost in the brightness somehow. The whole tree shakes. He’s up in the thickest part of the tree.

I step back, looking up, and I keep going until I back into the kiddie pool, which takes me out behind my knees. My soccer calves are no help and I splash down butt-first into the water. No one is watching me, so no one laughs or asks if I’m okay. I’m not okay.

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Flushboy

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Over the course of one shift working the window of his father’s drive-through urinal, our sixteen-year-old Flushboy will have to not only juggle gallons of warm pee and deal with the worst flood ever (it’s not water), but he’ll also have to fend off the urine mafia, solve the citywide mystery of Chickenstein, and win his girlfriend back.

Flushboy is hilarious and sad and insanely good. And it’s a love story too. Only Stephen Graham Jones could have written this, so read it, and make sure you spring the extra dough for the lap protector. Paul Tremblay

Stephen Graham Jones takes that old question, “What’s the worst job you’ve ever had?” and makes it worse yet. By turns hiliarious and heartbreaking, you’ll never piss again without thinking of this book It’s brilliant. Monica Drake

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The Least of My Scars

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You haven’t heard of William Colton Hughes. Or, if you have, then you’re not telling anybody. Not telling them anything, ever. The best serial killer? He’s not the one on the news, in the textbooks. He’s the one out there still punching his card, and a few other people’s too. This is William Colton Hughes, a nightmare not only come to life, but waiting in his apartment for you to knock on his door. And you will, it’s only a matter of when.

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Zombie Sharks with Metal Teeth

“Much like the mad-but-brilliant scientists in this collection’s titular story, Jones has created the tales here with experimental glee, yielding an astonishing assortment of mutated manuscripts. The investigational ‘Let’s see what happens’ mentality at play in this collection means that the story about gigantic soul-storing moonshrimp will also be told by a dime store P.I. It means that elderly love and parenting are monster-mashed to deeper meaning. It means Kafka goes corporate inspector, basset hounds get sexy, and the aliens are popping up everywhere. It means you’ll get your Raymond Carver via dog food therapy and the Please-Let-It-Just-Fucking-Die world of zombie fiction gets repurposed twice in beautifully heart-rending ways. And yeah, there are hamsters. I’ll just say it-Jones went off the deep end this time. But it’s thrilling to watch an artist dive into their mind’s Marianas Trench and return with exploding oceanic oddities-Coltrane going from devilish smooth to full-stellar squonk, Aphex Twin going from ambient pharmacist to robot brain-masher. And here: Intrepid Writer Stephen Graham Jones going from the assured, human horror of earlier collection THE ONES THAT GOT AWAY to the outstanding aberrations of ZOMBIE SHARKS WITH METAL TEETH.”

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The Gospel of Z

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In the ten years since zombies killed the world, Jory Gray has found exactly one person who matters. Her name is Linse. But when he wakes to find her gone, to join the church, his world falls apart all over again. Jory’s suicide mission to save her will lead him deep into the restricted zone, into the bowels of the military, the underbelly of the church, and, worse, it will give him a glimpse into a past that’s supposed to be ten years dead, a past still contained in a document that never should have existed: The Gospel of Z

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The Last Final Girl

Life in a slasher film is easy. You just have to know when to die.

Aerial ViewA suburban town in Texas. Everyone’s got an automatic garage door opener. All the kids jump off a perilous cliff into a shallow river as a rite of passage. The sheriff is a local celebrity. You know this town. You’re from this town.

Zoom InHomecoming princess, Lindsay. She’s just barely escaped death at the hands of a brutal, sadistic murderer in a Michael Jackson mask. Up on the cliff, she was rescued by a horse and bravely defeated the killer, alone, bra-less. Her story is already a legend. She’s this town’s heroic final girl, their virgin angel.

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The Promise of Werewolves

Man, where to start. How about with John Mellencamp:

When I was five I walked the fence while grandpa held my hand

“Rain on the Scarecrow” came out in 1985, the year Growing Up Dead in Texas happens. Or, that’s when the events happen. Right around that time I remember walking the fence with my great-granddad, Pop. A hot fence, to keep the cattle out of the ten acres my grandma’s house was (and is) on. And I knew it was hot by then, of course; I’d been zapped a few times, sneaking out there to chase whatever animals I could scare up. But still, Pop, he held his hand out to me, a particularly evil glimmer in his eyes, a smile ghosting the corners of his mouth up — he had to have been at least eighty, then — and I took his hand, and he smiled, clamped his other hand onto the fence, shooting that jolt across to me. And then we did it again and again, because it was so fun.

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