From the author who brought you a fresh dose of frightening original new tales ripped from the pages of horror legends like Night of the Living Dead, Fright Night, My Bloody Valentine, Silent Night / Deadly Night, and the modern cult classic Willy’s Wonderland, S.A. Check and publisher American Mythology serves up a new nightmare with his latest novel - Shanty Red. Terror has never tasted so good.

There’s something growing under the town of Paw Paw, WV. Something patient. Something evil. Something hungry. Once a booming mining town tucked into the quiet back hills of Northern West Virginia, the town of Paw Paw is a shell of its former self. The only thing it produces now in any quantity is depression. So, when violent murders mysteriously are on the rise in the small hilly hamlet, friends, family, and neighbors quickly turn into suspects. 

Enter Hardlee Owens, a young boy whose family was torn apart by COVID, and is forced to relocate to Paw Paw with his extended family for the summer. It doesn’t take long for Hardlee and his cousin, JayBird, to befriend the Sheriff’s young daughter. The trio set out to explore the town’s many mysteries, including the seductive Lady Whispers, and the enigmatic Mr. Scratch, an outsider who may hold the secret of the madness taking over their town or be the cause of it. A secret kept hidden for over a century, buried deep inside the tunnel just outside of town, and darker than the mines stretching for miles below them. You’ll want to keep that lantern burning for this one.

Shanty Red is our first foray into prose novels here at American Mythology.  Novelist S.A. Check has written multiple novels in sci-fi, fantasy, and the horror genres - but this new tale takes his writing to another level.  It's the first time he's been inspired by a real haunted location - the Paw Paw tunnel in West Virginia. 

Shanty Red is frightening horror novel that will be approximately 60,000 words and around 260 pages.  It will have a digital edition, trade paperback, hardcover, and a special limited edition serial numbered and autographed hardcover limited to just 99 copies.

The HARDCOVER EDITION features a special exclusive photo cover and is printed on deluxe boards with a gloss finish.  It's perfect for your bookshelf and will look fantastic next to your other books. 

When the good people of Paw Paw, West Virginia, suddenly start killing each other, the sheriff is tasked with finding some answers, like why does everyone seem to be attracted to the old tunnel running outside of town, and what is its tie to that community for the last century and a half. Sometimes the answers aren’t in front of you – they’re below you! Join Hardlee, the new kid in town, and his friends, as they race to unravel the mystery surrounding the strange new faces who’ve arrived in town – the eerie Mister Scratch – and the seductive Lady Whispers. Will they find answers in the tunnels running under the town, or become prey for whatever is hunting the town’s residents. Come along for a fun and frightening ride and discover horror comes with many faces. The “Shanty” is calling – who’s going to answer?

A big part of the story centers around the town of Paw Paw, WV, and the Paw Paw Tunnel. What exactly is the Paw Paw Tunnel? Well, you’re in luck. We have a little history on it. 

The tunnel is an over 3,000 feet long canal tunnel started in the 1830’s and finished in the 1850’s to bypass a stretch of the Potomac River with multiple bends in it. It took over six million bricks to construct. The history of its construction is filled with violence among many of the immigrant workers brought there to work, and later by the boatmen who travelled the passage. The tunnel was apparently planned to go all the way to Pittsburgh at one point. It is considered by many to be an engineering marvel. 

It is also considered by many to be haunted because of its history of violence. Many paranormal specialists have reported activity in the tunnel to include the ghost of a lockkeeper who was killed nearby years ago. 

What’s unique about the passage is that’s it’s both a canal and walkway through the entire length.

S.A. Check visits the Paw Paw Tunnel here:

Found all throughout the tunnel are “weep holes” – small holes in the tunnel to allow moisture to escape – or for those brave enough to explore – leave keepsakes inside, or maybe to funnel your screams into!

Here’s a tunnel marker, a “weep hole” and a pretty big damn hole in the side of the tunnel walkway about half way in. The hole looks big enough for something to crawl through – doesn’t it?

A mysterious drawing of a spider found near the tunnel entrance. An early warning? An omen? Or just chance? The cobwebs inside the cave were a little unsettling too! How about the eyes someone drew on the handrail inside? Hitting a little too close to home here!

Shanty Red author, S.A. Check, exploring the tunnel to prepare for his work on the novel.

Each print copy also comes with a free digital downloadable pdf for reading on your favorite devices!  You'll get the digital edition before we go to press and will be the only people reading the story ahead of time.  We know you'll love this tale and can't wait to share it with you.

S.A. Check is a multi-genre author and comic book writer born and writing out of Southwestern Pennsylvania. He earned his degree in English from Penn State University. His work includes both original and globally recognized licensed properties to include Night of the Living Dead, Return of the Living Dead, Fright Night, Willy’s Wonderland, Silent Night Deadly Night, Hatchet, Zorro, Stargate Atlantis, The Three Stooges, Pink Panther, Casper, and many others. His original novels include Welcome to GreenGrass, Maxx Fragg, and Monkey Farm, and also the comic book series Volcanosaurus, Legend Fell, Cartoon Puppet Horror Theater, and The Grunch.

There's nothing like getting a taste of the actual writing to see if you enjoy a writer's storytelling.  Here's a peek at the first chapter of Shanty Red.

 

Dying. It’s a real bitch. 

Clara’s mamma liked to keep things simple. She told her daughter life ain’t nothing but an extended death sentence. Better to numb up now than get disappointed by it later. She never really understood what her mother meant by all that back when she was just a young girl growing up in the holler, but she’d come to find a new appreciation for those words over the years, especially the last few weeks.

Even God even seemed angry at her that night. Rain pelted the aluminum siding of her ragged tiny mobile home, supported with cement blocks, rusted car jacks, and broken dreams. Life in the mountains never promised to be easy. Clara already knew that. She’d grown up in those same back woods, felt the same hard times as her neighbors and kin around her. They survived. That was what mountain folk did. That’s what she hoped to do that night.

The wind pushed at the thin glass on her windows, fighting to get inside with her. A sudden thunderstrike overhead caused Clara’s heart to skip a beat, which was already pounding almost as hard as the knocking against her bedroom door.  

“What did I tell you about repeating myself?”

The man’s voice boomed through the cheap particle board separating her from his wrath. Even the wood had grown tired over the last several weeks from the barrage of fists and insults thrown at it. Clara hoped the alcohol would catch up to him and sooth whatever demon was festering inside. Sometimes, the booze eased his anger, and she could fall asleep on the floor near the window, one hand on the sill in case she needed a quick escape route. The lengthened silence from the other side of the door showed promise outside of the occasional snort or hack. Maybe sleep for her wasn’t far off after all. 

“This is my house, bitch!” Ricky slammed his fist against the center of the door. Clara watched the hinges shake and the screws holding them loosen with every shot he took.

          Sleep wasn’t coming anytime soon.   

Clara moved over to the dresser and finished packing some belongings into a disposable plastic shopping bag, tying off the top to keep her meager possessions from getting wet outside. It would be almost a half of an hour walk to the neighbors. She’d done it before, but never in the dark and especially not during a thunderstorm. It wasn’t an easy trip, but she knew she would be safe there, at least until morning, and then she could come back with the Sheriff. Getting the law involved would only make things worse, but there weren’t many options left to her.  

She moved to the window near the dresser and reached towards the sill, pausing long enough to view her own reflection in the glass. She didn’t recognize the person looking back, the frazzled hair, the lines in the face, the loneliness in the eyes. This was not the life she dreamed of. She knew it would never be one of fancy cars and red-carpet paparazzi, but there had to be more to it than this. She pulled at the bottom of the window. The frame of the trailer had twisted over the years and warped the frame underneath. She pulled at the window with all the strength she could muster, barely raising it a couple inches. Lightning flashed outside and the thunder was quick to respond. It shook the tiny home to its core. Clara stumbled back towards the bed, knowing the center of the storm was closing in on her. 

The door to the bedroom exploded open. She dropped her bag to the floor, glancing at the raging winds outside. She knew the image in the doorway even before she turned her head. It was the same one she’d seen far too often over the last month. Ricky stood there in the door frame, a bottle of moonshine dangling from one hand, a self-rolled cigarette in the other. His dirty, smeared, three-day without a wash undershirt barely covering his bulging stomach, which hung limply over his cut-off sweat pants. His breathes were heavy and deep, wheezing from the effort it took to break through the bedroom door. Sweat dripped from the end of his nose. 

They stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity to Clara, sizing the other up in their eyes. She could feel the rage he had for her seething from his stare, pouring across the small room, covering her in his hate. He was like a backwoods demi-god, looking down at his lone disciple, angry for their lack of devotion. His grip tightened around the neck of the liquor bottle he held. 

Clara had tried talking to him before. She had cried for him. She had cussed at him. She had fought back against him, burying her fingernails so deep into his arms and back, she drew blood and left scars. None of it changed him, changed the new man he had become. The one filled with nothing but anger and hate towards the world, and unfortunately that comprised mostly of her. 

“I love you,” she whispered, searching his eyes for any signs of the man she fell in love with years ago. 

Thunder cracked again outside as the wind roared, ripping a piece of siding from the trailer. Clara looked out the window as it blew passed. The rain intensified, pounding down on the roof above, demanding entry. She turned back towards Ricky. He was already half way across the floor, reaching for her.

“Liar!”

His hand buried into her hair, grabbing it, pulling her to the floor. She didn’t have the strength to stop him. Not anymore. She threw her hands out in front of her to catch herself as she smacked the ground, her palms slapping down on the bare wooden planks. He didn’t give her time to orient herself before dragging her across the floor towards the living room. 

“Ricky! Stop! Please!” 

Those were the only words she could form as the pain in her head shot shockwaves of panic across her body. She kicked and flailed as she was dragged on her back into the next room as the rough wood bit into her skin. This was not the life she was promised. This was not her story. 

Ricky flung her onto the tattered couch. She could feel the worn springs stabbing into her back. She spotted the open door behind Ricky and the storm still raging outside. The woods were dark and the branches seemed almost alive, thrashing and swaying in the wind. 

She ran for the door, pushing Ricky out of her way. He stumbled over his own drunken feet and fell backwards. This was her one shot at getting out. She knew she wouldn’t get another. Making it to the door, she grabbed the frame and looked out into the night. The howl of the wind roared like a predator above her and pushed against her, trying to keep her inside. She could feel the sting of the rain on her face. The stairs leading to her salvation were only inches away. Clara heard a scream coming from somewhere in the woods, and she looked deep into the darkened branches. A cold shudder rose up her spine as her stare met with a set of glowing red eyes gazing back at her. She paused, held captive by its stare, before slowly turning back inside and looking down the hallway to the rear bedrooms.   

The sigh she let out was pronounced and a signal of her final defeat, as the small amount of fight she had left in her body exited with the air she exhaled. 

Ricky’s retribution was swift and fierce. Grabbing her by the neck, he forced Clara away from the doorway and slammed her down onto the small kitchen table. She felt the sting of the table thumping into her side as he pinned her face against the wood. 

“You think you can lay a hand on me?” He screamed.

The first punch broke her nose. She could feel the cartilage snap in her face and she had trouble breathing. The taste of blood flooded her mouth as it trickled down her throat. The only thing she could see was a half-eaten loaf of bread on the table in front of her. The slices were covered in green mold and gnats swarmed around them, flying into the air after being disturbed.

“Remember who did this!”

The second shot was to her neck. She figured he was still too drunk to hit the same place twice. She immediately lost feeling in both arms. Useless to her now, like her own pathetic life. 

“You brought this on yourself! You did!”

She hoped the next blow would do it, would be enough to end this miserable existence, or at least knock her unconscious and give her a few moments of not being afraid and living in fear of a man she once loved. She could only hope he could pull out of his drunken stupor long enough to give her a well-aimed shot. 

She waited there, sprawled out on the kitchen table, bleeding, exhausted, and ready for it to end. 

“Momma? I’m scared!”

There are few things in this world quite like the strength a mother can find when their child calls for help. 

Grabbing the edge of the table, Clara pivoted onto her back, lying flat against the hard wood table. Every nerve in her body screamed out in pain, but the only focus she had was the little girl standing in the hallway. She wore an over-sized yellow t-shirt, stained and ripped from age. Her large oval eyes were filled with pending tears, just waiting to unleash down her reddened cheeks. Her expression was a pitiful mix of fear and confusion. Clara reached out for her child.

“B-b-baby…” she said.

Clara followed the terrified stare of her child, back to the visage of Ricky, still hovering over her. Both fists were covered in blood and dripping down his knuckles to the floor. He held his hand in front of his face, looking at the mess he had made. His mouth was wide open, and his eyed softened as he stared back and forth between his bloody knuckles and the small child staring at him from the hall. It seemed like that moment froze in time, no one speaking or moving. 

“I…I…I…” he finally stammered. “It’s not my fault.”

Ricky looked back down at Clara. She saw the anger flood back into his stare. She knew if that didn’t bring him back, nothing would. There was no turning back now. It was over for her.

“Betsy Ann! Run, baby! Run!”

Clara felt her front teeth knocked out of place when the next blow landed. The room spun around her as she looked up into the warped mix of hatred and disgust on Ricky’s face as he raised his arm for another shot. From the corner of her eye, she saw Betsy Ann running to the open door of the trailer and out into the night. A weak smile crept over Clara’s face. 

“You made me do this! You bitch!” Roy screamed, frothing at the mouth as he landed punch after punch. The blood from his fists splashing across the room. He looked up into the air and screamed like an animal caught in a trap. 

Clara’s world faded to black as her head tilted to the side and she whispered what she thought would be the last piece of advice she’d ever give her own daughter. 

“Keep running, baby.”

📚 Welcome to Booktopia — a celebration of creativity and collaboration from a vibrant collective of writers, authors and artists collectively running crowdfunding projects from September 5th - September 26th.

🔥 Limited Cross-Collaboration Freebies — All 50+ Booktopia creators have paired up with a fellow participant to create two unique and limited freebies together. If BOTH projects successfully fund, backers who support BOTH will get the TWO [2] cross-collab freebies listed on their campaign page, one will ship from each creator. The more pairs of Booktopia creators you support, the more freebies you will earn ✨

🧧 1 FREE Limited Edition Booktopia 2024 reward if you back FIVE [5] or more projects. Exclusive reward for Booktopia - Black Metal Bookmark (*design coming)

S.A. Check - author of Shanty Red and Christopher Brown - author of Slaughterville got together to discuss how to work together as cross collaboration partners for BookTopia!  The end result is something pretty darn special! 

If you purchase both Shanty Red and Slaughterville you'll receive two special cards for the Slaughterville game! 

About Slaughterville: The Beast Within:

No one believes what Beth saw as a child when she witnessed the death of her little sister, not even the people in the very community she grew up in. The only person that believed her was her sister, Caroline. And now, Caroline has vanished. 

 

Fighting her own guilt for leaving and the skepticism of everyone around her, Beth must confront the beings and dark magic that makes her hometown of Slaughterville what it is… a dangerous facade with horrors swimming just under the surface. 

 

Beth has to figure out who the true enemy is before it’s too late. She knows, if she fails, no one on the outside will ever question what happened. Very few people in Slaughterville will question it. After all, they never questioned what happened to her little sister. 

 

Will she convince other people of the shifting reality of this town and make unlikely allies? Or will she be killed by the monsters protecting Slaughterville and its secrets?

We love stretch goals and we have some great ones lined up!

We are collectors too and we package all of our crowd funded books in Gemini Mailers.  These are the GOLD standard for avoiding damages.  We want to make sure you get everything to you looking beautiful and ready to be put into your collection!

Our targeted shipping is in December for the beginning of customer shipping.  With recently disrupted supplied chains once again being an issue, we can't predict what problems may occur in getting the inventory delivered.  But we will do everything we can to keep the cards on track and in your hands as soon as possible!