Fifty-seven years passed between the events of Ridley Scott's Alien and James Cameron's Aliens, and during that entire time, Ellen Ripley slept in stasis. At least, that's what we were told. Now along comes author Tim Lebbon to tell us that wasn't actually the case.
Alien: Out of the Shadows, the first in a barrage of Alien books coming this year from Titan Books (more on those in a minute), begins an all-new tale about what happened during those "lost" five decades and change. The book picks up some 37 years after the destruction of the Nostromo. The Marion is a mining ship much like the Nostromo, crewed by a rough-edged bunch of space jockeys in charge of a mining operation on planet LV178. It's a boring, repetitive job right up until the day the miners discover something other than trimonite below the planet's surface. When several of
2013 was a good year for reading in general and horror in particular, so our current set of 365 days has some big shoes to fill. Here are a handful of titles coming out this year that I think are going to help 2014 meet those expectations.
Tim Lebbon has a deft hand when it comes to working in established properties, having written novelizations and original books for fan favorites including 30 Days of Night, Cabin in the Woods and the Hellboy and Star Wars universes. Now he's taking on one of my favorite franchises – the Alien films. Out of the Shadows is an original novel that revisits the character of Ellen Ripley, who was of course brought to vivid life in the film series by Sigourney Weaver. It's the start of a new trilogy, the events of which lead directly
FEARnet is proud to present brand new fiction from Nightmare Magazine. Once a month, we'll be featuring a story from Nightmare’s current issue. This month's selection is “The Mad Butcher of Plainfield’s Chariot of Death” by Adam Howe. Please tell us what you think and enjoy!
Gibbons swigged from his hipflask, driving one-handed as he followed the caravan of carny vehicles barreling along the interstate toward tonight’s show. As the booze burned through him, he bared his teeth, glaring in the rearview at the tarp-shrouded shape of the car hooked to his truck.
The damned car was supposed to make his fortune. He’d sunk every last penny into buying it. 1960 should’ve been his year. He should’ve been sunning himself down in Florida by now; instead he was barely eking a living, working the
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