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Joseph Fulkerson is a writer of fiction, poetry, and haiku. He's the author of sixteen books and chapbooks. East Jesus Nowhere, his debut novella, was published by Anxiety Press. His novel Brood of Vipers is available now from Translucent Eyes Press.
NOW AVAILABLE
A former addict looking for a fresh start, a small town preacher reeling from loss and tragedy, and a rogue angel square off in a supernatural tale of miracles, murder, and blood sacrifices that threatens to unleash Armageddon onto the hills of western Kentucky.
"BROOD OF VIPERS delivers an unsettling horror that’s as much about human psychology as it is mysticism. A promising horror debut with plenty to keep you up at night thinking about what evil lives in the hearts of your neighbors." — Jessica Leonard, author of ANTIOCH and CONJURING THE WITCH
“Laced with poetic brutality and gripping from the get-go, Joseph Fulkerson takes a deep dive into the realms of faith, addiction and religion and what happens when those worlds collide with each other, culminating in a climax of biblical proportion which will leave you craving more.” — Bam Barrow, author of CVLT OF CTHXS
"Fulkerson delivers a chaotic, violent ride, twisting the strings of Christian mythology like a sadistic puppeteer."
—Eddie Generous, author of What He Became and Rawr
NOW AVAILABLE
The booze-soaked exploits of a blue-collar bastard stuck in the Bible Belt
In the middle of nowhere, Jimmy Lane (Jimbo) navigates late nights, hangovers, relationships, and comradery at a hole-in-the-wall bar called the Sand Dollar.
“A fast-paced and funny novella overflowing with debauchery, poor decisions marked by good intentions, and the grimy, blurred reflection of modern middle America. East Jesus Nowhere is a Norman Rockwell painting lit on fire and sprayed with piss and whiskey.” — Jack Moody, author of Crooked Smile
"In East Jesus Nowhere, Fulkerson takes us on a booze-drenched backcountry ride through the dive bars and lonely haunts of western Kentucky. The bottom is rocky and peopled with the broken and their shattering dreams." — A.S. Coomer
Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming "Wow! What a ride!"