Description: Alex must've been desperate if she came to me for help. I could protect her from bullets and knives and the wild mountains themselves, but not the dark Appalachian magic I barely believed in.
The only way to save the woman I loved was to head home and end the hundred-year blood feud between her family and mine. I'd kill every last Lewis and bury every last witch in the coal-dusted soil of West Virginia, even if that meant facing them all again in hell.
This is a tale of star-crossed lovers and civil revenge by uncivil hands, written in blood that is barely thicker than water.
Let Raw Dog Screaming Press author Jason Jack Miller take you to a place where love is forever even when death isn't, where magic doesn't have to be seen to be believed, where a song might be the only thing that saves your soul.
MURDER BALLADS AND WHISKEY is a unique blend of dark fiction, urban fantasy and horror. It's Appalachian Gothic, Alt.Magical.Realism, Hillbilly Horror. It's AMERICAN GODS meets JUSTIFIED. TRUE BLOOD with witches. It's Johnny Cash with a fistful of copperheads singing the devil right back to hell.
Ben laid on the gas, pushing the truck until it began to rattle. The windshield, the doors, they all shook with the ferocity of a steam train. This path, not built for trucks, shook the rubber off the tires and the paint off the body. Now grinning, Ben turned his hat, a crazy engineer bound for the siding with fire in his belly and steam in his head. He laughed at cautions and kicked the brake pedal clean off.
This train was rolling; momentum and a cargo of rage barreled along behind us. Ben kept his hand off the brake and I just kept shoveling coal in. Thunder shouted our arrival through the canyon, lightning guided us through crossings. The torrent of rain hit the hood, now radiating with the heat of a thousand horses. The dime-sized drops turned into a trail of steam that followed us down the track like a specter of all those who’d plied this canyon before us.
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Great snippet...can definitely visualize the scene from this.
ReplyDeleteThanks so much. It was always one of my favorites so I figured I'd unleash it.
DeleteSometimes I love Ben more than Henry. ;) Your imagery is fantastic. You've got this magical realism thing down, Miller.
ReplyDeleteReminds me of a ride I took with my sister once down some back roads in the Blue Ridge Mountains. She laughed with maniacal glee at hairpin turns taken at unsafe speeds while I huddled in the floorboards sobbing and praying for God to spare me. My heart was in my throat reading this! Great imagery!
ReplyDeleteThat's an awesome sister! Glad you enjoyed it and thanks for stopping by.
DeleteVery visual. I love the way you write. That's all... :)
ReplyDeleteThank you very much! You don't know how happy that makes me.
DeleteGotta love it. What a great cross-blending of ideas. :)
ReplyDeleteThank you! Ideas are like whiskey-well blended ones are best.
DeleteNice use of the truck=train analogy.
ReplyDeleteAppreciate it! Thanks for stopping by.
DeleteGreat descriptions! Reading your snippet makes me want to put a jacket on.
ReplyDeleteHappy to hear it! (My writing always makes me want to drink, so I'm making progress, I suppose.)
DeleteThanks for stopping by.
"...a crazy engineer bound for the siding with fire in his belly and steam in his head." Great line! (oh, and the rest of the snippet is good too!).
ReplyDeleteAppreciate it! I try to spread my good stuff out instead of putting it all in one spot like I used to. Could nevr figure out why people stopped reading after the first sentence. : )
DeleteThanks for stopping by.
Crazy descriptions! Stoke it up! :-)
ReplyDeleteThank you!
DeleteCertainly getting the feel of it from that description. :)
ReplyDeleteAppreciate it. Thanks for stopping by.
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