NASHVILLE, TENN. · NICHE OF ONE PRESS · ONE HAND, MANY NAMES
Under Many Names
One hand. A different name for every lane it drives in.
J.D. Forrest
weird fiction · cosmic dreadAmnesiacs in cities grown into the earth. Dead stations still calling your name on a frequency that shouldn't exist. The thin spot where the world wears through. The house's main voice.
start reading free →Holt Sheridan
grounded crime · noirGray men and off-book assets. Small towns with a body in them and a reason nobody will say out loud. Nothing supernatural. Just consequence and the bill coming due.
read it free →Bjorn Skau
Norse historicalBlood, oath, and weather. Its own cold cosmology, walled off from the rest on purpose.
read it free →Vect0r
chaos magick · the occultResults over belief. The fluff burned off. Runs its own room.
the playground →The Influences aff.
The books behind the books — the pattern-seekers, the paranoid, the ones that bent the pen. Affiliate links: same price to you, a small cut keeps the press running. How that works.
The Illuminatus! TrilogyEvery conspiracy theory at once, told as a joke that's secretly the operating manual.On Amazon →
VALISA madman, a pink laser from God, and the question of which is which.On Amazon →
UbikReality runs backward and decays. Buy the spray can. Trust nothing.On Amazon →
A Scanner DarklyThe narc and the addict are the same guy. Burnout as prophecy.On Amazon →
The Three Stigmata of Palmer EldritchDrug-trip layers nested past the point you can find the floor.On Amazon →
LabyrinthsInfinite libraries, fake encyclopedias, mirrors that breed. Short stories that rewire you.On Amazon →
Read Free
Free transmissions off the network. No card. No gate. The signal carries whether you're listening or not.
Ellis Road
by J.D. Forrest · weird fiction free
A recovered transmission, a mile marker that ain't on any map, and a dead station still calling your name on a frequency that shouldn't exist.
The Fall
by J.D. Forrest · weird fiction free
He wakes on cold stone in a city grown into the throat of the earth, every door already open, his own name gone missing.
Signal Loss
by J.D. Forrest · weird fiction free
Graveyard shift in a glass box on a mountain, and a 2:49 AM signal that sounds like a man drowning in math and learning to talk.
Brain Bleed
by J.D. Forrest · weird fiction free
The headache lands like a railroad spike at 5:35 AM, and something on the far side of his skull is quietly testing the locks.
nobody here
gets out clean.
One hand. Many names.
The Niche of One Press is all of them under one roof. The weird, the crime, the Norse, the occult. The work keeps coming, so the shelf keeps filling. The catalog only gets stranger from here.