Archive for November, 2015

Have a happy holiday everyone

November 25, 2015 Leave a comment

I sat staring at my fingertips. They were turning black, like I was dipping them into ink. It was moving up to the first knuckle, and I couldn’t help but wonder why I couldn’t feel it. There was no sensation, but it was still happening.

It might have been my imagination, but I thought the tips were becoming pointed. If I was right, I might be able to draw with them in a few minutes. Not that I could draw, I had almost no artistic talent, but maybe I could scribble out a grocery list four lines at a time or something.


“Is that really what you want to say?”

Tom jumped. “I hate it when you sneak around. You know that right?”

“I know,” Mary said. “But I love making you jump.”

Tom shook his head and looked back up at the monitor. “No, it isn’t what I want to say, but I don’t know what else to say.”

Mary sat down on the arm of the recliner and leaned over, putting her arm around his shoulders. “Just keep writing,” she said. “That is the really important thing.”

He shook his head and sighed. “Do you need any help?”

She squinted at the bottom of the display. “I need help after you manage to get another thousand words or so on the page. Until then, you keep typing.”

He grinned. “Alright. I will.”

When she stood she pulled her shirt up and flashed him. “If you hurry, you might be happy with the help I need.”

Tom groaned and began to type.


Moon Flower

November 18, 2015 Leave a comment

It was unusual for the children to be outside after dark. Their mother was the sort who believed that you should come in and read or play a game after the sun had set. Their father didn’t carry much of an opinion one way or the other.

But the meteor shower was something special. It was a once in a lifetime chance, so the whole family had went out to sit under the stars.

When both of the parents were yawning and nodding a bit, they decided to go in. With the moon high in the sky and streaks of fire flashing between the stars, the youngest girl had walked to the edge of the woods.

Melody smiled at the flower. It had slick petals which reflected so much moon light that the young girl thought it was glowing. She picked it, breathed in the scent, and smiled.

She fell asleep staring at it. The flower was in a glass of water on the window seal between her and her older sister’s bed.

The flower had not wilted much, and now, it seemed to be getting better. It was lying on the floor, one side resting in a pool of blood.

The creature, still wearing a pink t-shirt, took a cautious step through the doorway. It sniffed the air before heading down the hall.

And now for something very different

November 11, 2015 Leave a comment

Josh stretched, pointing his toes and squinting one eye. The squinting didn’t seem to help, but it felt right so he did it anyway. After a moment, he stuck the tip of his tongue out of the corner of his mouth. Still no help.

“Almost,” Marty said. “About two more niches.”

“That’s what she said,” Larry stood by the doorway, smiling and looking down the hallway.

Josh gave up with a huff and slumped. “I can’t get it.”

The three of them stared at the machine. The package of donuts, with one extra, hung by the edge of its wrapper, pinched between the metal bar and the shelf.

Categories: Flash Fiction, Random Tags:

Whistle While You Work #13 – Final

November 4, 2015 Leave a comment

Hennessy stood at the tower window with his arms crossed. He was frowning and his brow was furrowed to the point that his eyebrows came close to touching.

Below him, Tomas was loading possessions into his wagon. Maleena sat on the bench, crying.

The man was moving with frantic speed, throwing things into the back with no care for their condition. A few times, the sounds of a crash would make Maleena jump, but Tomas ignored her and rushed back inside for another load.

“Do you have any idea why this is happening?”

The air beside the wizard shimmered as the demoness took form. She looked out the window and shrugged a slender shoulder. “He would appear to be scared. His movements look frightened.”

“He almost died today,” the wizard said. “And he swears that he does not know how he got home.”

The creature said nothing.

They stood side by side for a few minutes, watching the carpenter finish and jump up beside his wife. He grabbed the reigns, snapped them hard enough to make the horses jerk, and left.

“He offered no explanation,” Hennessy said. “He refused to stop packing long enough to talk to me. Even Maleena could not get him to say anything.”

The Demoness said nothing.


She walked with slow steps. It was important to appear strong, but she was terrified.

The last messenger who delivered bad news had been dragged through the fields until only the stump of his arm remained.

“You have news?”

Lady JoTaugh jumped. The voice behind her revealed nothing, yet she was sure it held pain.

“The new mage has fled. His fear drives him away from his destiny.”

“Then he is not the one we needed.”

She turned around and looked at her lord with confusion. “I thought he was the one.”

The demon lord smiled and stepped closer. “No, the idea of a chosen one is a lie. The only thing that matters is finding one who will do what we want.”

“There is no chosen one?”

“There has never been a chosen one. Throughout the worlds and all the times, there is only the one who takes action. The lucky one, not the chosen one.”

Categories: Fantasy, serial Tags:

One Bad Fur Day Blog Tour

November 2, 2015 2 comments


One Bad Fur Day

By Trap Jones

Call it odd, call it off-beat, call it fantasy; but don’t think for a moment that One Bad Fur Day is anything other than a suspense driven horror ride that blurs the lines between harsh reality and brutal imagery…

As Hurricane Katrina barrels through the Louisiana bayous, the animal population is forced to deal with the tumultuous upheaval of their world. Sheriff Sid and his wife are caught completely off-guard by the natural disaster unfolding around them as they battle not only the turbulent winds and flooding waters, but heinous acts committed by other creatures inhabiting the backwaters. Following a brutal assault on his wife, Sid is forced to fight off voodoo-priestess snakes, a junkyard raccoon, deceitful badgers, and a band of roving power-hungry alligators. While clinging to his tenuous hold as sheriff, Sid must find a way to recapture what is rightfully his and exact his revenge.

Trap Jones does a fantastic job of pairing the genuine horror of a natural disaster with a story of deceit, betrayal and vengeance that pulls you in and forces the reader to identify with Sid as he journeys through the darkest reaches of the bayous, facing deadly encounters, on One Bad Fur Day!

One Bad Fur Day is available at:

Amazon: US | UK | Canada | Australia | Germany | France | Spain | Italy | Japan | Mexico | Brazil | India | The Netherlands

Amazon Print: US | UK | Canada | Germany | France | Spain | Italy | Japan | Mexico | Brazil | India

Barnes & Noble (Print & eBook)





ABOUT THE AUTHOR – K. Trap Jones is an author of horror novels and over 50 short stories. With inspiration from Dante Alighieri and Edgar Allan Poe, he has a temptation towards narrative folklore, classic literary works and obscure segments within society.

His novel THE SINNER (Blood Bound Books) won the 2010 Royal Palm Literary Award. His splatterpunk novella, THE DRUNKEN EXORCIST has been released by Necro Publications. His narrative horror short story collection, THE CROSSROADS is available from Hazardous Press.

He is also a member of the Horror Writer’s Association and can be found lurking around Tampa, Florida.

An Excerpt from One Bad Fur Day by K. Trap Jones

Chapter 1

The Winds of Change

I had six bullets and there were eight vultures nearing me. I could see their shadows upon the ground as they soared overhead. Nasty bastards, all they wanted was to feast on my body after I died. I’ve made a lot of enemies in my life, but it came with the badge. The path to the roadside had taken its toll on me; with every step, I lost more blood. It’s where all us animals traveled to when our time was about to end; some called it an honorable death.

“You’re bleeding, sheriff,” a burly vulture named Victor stated, fluttering his blackened wings as he landed on the ground. “Either way, I will be dining on your corpse; road or no road.”

I smelled of death; my fur was saturated with blood from the gunshot wounds. My leg barely worked and my chest was burning, but I refused to stop. I would decide my own fate, not them.

“I will hollow out your carcass and drink from your skull,” the vulture continued to torment. His featherless head was coated with the dried blood from his last prey. Hopping upon his feet to keep up with me, the vulture got closer.

A member of the vulture volt, Victor was constantly on parole, but with the shift in the law and devastation upon our land, things had obviously changed. The blood trail leaking from my wounds led his gang to me, but I was confident that no part of my flesh would pass through his beak. Slowing my pace, I wanted him just a little closer; my blurred vision was not an asset to my aim. Climbing over a fallen tree, I didn’t take another step. I needed Victor to leap down without care and the stupid bastard took the bait. I spun around; his beady eyes came face to face with the barrel of my gun.

“Let’s not be harsh, sheriff,” Victor nervously stated. “You are still the law; you have rules. I am merely escorting you to the road for your own safety.”

Victor squawked as my bullet tore apart his head. The thin skull offered no protection as the bullet struck deep into the bark of the tree behind him. The blood splatter stained the ground as the vultures soared overhead. Like I said, Victor would not taste my flesh. With five bullets left, I had to continue on my way to the road so that I could die admirably.

How did I get myself into this situation? Well, it all started with one bad fur day.


Everything had to be perfect. The reservations were made well in advance. I waited for her outside with a dry throat and shaky legs. She was everything to me and I wanted to prove that to her. I was never the dress up type and the self-made knot of my tie, if that’s what it was intended to be, felt like an abnormal growth on my neck. I started to doubt my appearance and bullied every aspect of my own self, but that all went away when I saw her. She exited our tree and stood on the porch limb for a brief moment. It felt like eternity for me. The way the setting sun twisted between the swaying leaves and caressed her fur was mind blowing. In that moment, I drifted away from reality until our eyes met and she smiled. I watched her every movement as she scampered down the tree bark towards me. She was mine and I was hers.

“Hi there stranger. Are you waiting for anyone particular?” she said with a seductive grin.

I believe that I mumbled something incoherent, but I’m not sure what it was. My eyes were staring at her slim grey body. I managed to calm down the visions of her being my dessert after dinner and managed to muster out a compliment.

“You’re the most beautiful squirrel I’ve ever seen,” I said with a few stutters here and there.

“Why thank you, you’re not that bad yourself,” she said while licking her lips. “Shall we be on our way?”

“Yes, of course, we have, uh, reservations. They reserved a table for us.”

“Isn’t that what reservations are for?”

She knew exactly how to light the blood fire in my heart. Her words, the way she said them. I just wanted to bypass the dinner and take her upstairs and eat sweet sap off her body all night long. She walked a few steps ahead of me and I was in no rush to join her. My eyes swayed from side to side as I pretended to be able to see her ass moving beneath her dress.

“Stop staring at my ass and come up here with me,” she whispered without turning her head around.

Hook, line and sinker. All she had to do was throw out the bait and I would nibble on anything she offered. I walked faster until I caught up with her, and then stood on my hind legs. Her arm slid under mine and we walked through the leaf littered floor of the forest.

The wind was starting to pick up, but it was nothing unusual for that time of year within the bayous of Louisiana. The tree tops danced in the red orange hue of the sky. I never grew tired of watching them bend and give way to the mercy of the wind. As we walked along the path, the loose leaves that had no strength to hold on and fell. I held Sally’s hand tight and I did not want the moment to end. She was beautiful. The trees, the wind, the leaves; they were all beautiful.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked after she noticed me staring at the trees.

I wanted to tell her how much she meant to me. I wanted to rip my chest open and give her my pulsating heart, but sharing emotions was never my best trait. As sheriff, I live with death on a daily basis and over the years, the daunting task of crime scenes and investigations has made me numb to the sensitive nature of others. I don’t know how to verbalize the visions that my mind was showing me. The act plays out perfectly within my head. The dialogue flows seamlessly through my lips and she becomes flattered by my uncanny ability to shelter her with romance as if she was a princess.

“Nothing,” I answered. Not quite the perfect rendition of a romantic Broadway show.

I felt sad after I spoke because I knew that my sadistic mind was lying to her, but I just wasn’t comfortable enough with my ability to share emotions.

“Look, there it is!” she stated, pointing at the lights in the distance.

Pete’s Landing, our favorite restaurant, and a small establishment on the banks of a bayou inlet. It certainly wasn’t the fanciest of places, but the food was always good and fresh. With each order of their famous crawfish, Pete would fly onto the shores of the bayou and collect the meal himself. In the center of each table was a bucket where he would dump and drain the catch. The restaurant was an old, rusty shack left behind on a farmer’s field. Pete had a fascination with strings of Christmas lights and his restaurant was evident of that. It was a glistening winter wonderland within the darkened environment of the dreary bayous.

The restaurant was more than just an eating hole. For Sally and me, it was the location of our first date. It was a place where we could block out all of the real world hassles and just enjoy each other’s company.

As we neared the restaurant, I quickly scurried in front so I could open the front door. It always made her blush when I did that. The door swung open to reveal a packed house inside. The restaurant was family owned, so Pete had all of his sons and daughters working various positions. His youngest daughter, Anna greeted us at the door.

“Good evening Sherriff, Mrs. Sherriff,” Anna said with an innocent childhood lisp.

“Why, hello Anna. You are certainly looking beautiful tonight,” Sally proclaimed.

“Mama styled my feathers. Do you like them?” Anna stated while twisting around as if she was walking the cat walk in a model competition.

“Most beautiful you are and such the professional, I might add.”

“Thank you Mrs. Sheriff. Mama says one day I could be famous.”

While Sally and Anna continued to talk, the Mayor spotted me from afar. The old Badger himself had seen better days, but he certainly did his part to keep the society peaceful.

“Beautiful night Sheriff. The crawfish are superb,” the mayor shouted, making his way over to us.

“Evening mayor, I’m not sheriff tonight. Just another guy trying to take his wife out to dinner,” I had to proclaim because the mayor never stopped working. All day and night, he was handing out tasks for people to do. A simple dinner at a restaurant translated into additional free time that could be used to talk about the laws of the land. It became quite annoying and began immediately when he was elected into office. Over the years, I began informing him in the beginning of the conversation whether or not I was indeed on the clock.

“So what brings you out tonight sheriff?” he said in his usual tone, trying to decipher how to sneak in a chore for me to do.

“I’m off duty, mayor. The wife and I are celebrating our anniversary.”

“Of course, of course. Listen, it’s also the anniversary of the Old Lincoln Bridge construction project. I was wondering…”

“I’m off duty, mayor.”

I had to cut him off. No one else would dare silence him like that, but I felt really comfortable doing it, plus there wasn’t a line of people wanting to replace me as sheriff, so job security was not a high concern for me.

“I see, I see. Let’s talk in the morning. For now, you and Misses enjoy your dinner.”

He always ended the conversation like he was doing me a favor. He made it seem that he was allowing me to stop talking. I let him have that power, because in reality it overshadowed my rudeness and complete control over the conversations I had with him.

One of Pete’s older daughters approached and announced that our table was ready. Holding Sally’s hand, we walked toward the back of the restaurant to the open air porch which overlooked the water. The wind was picking up by the looks of the long pieces of moss that were clinging to the branches. The water was shifting as if the tide was about to come in. The candle on our table was flickering ever so softly as I pulled out Sally’s chair to allow her to sit down. I sat directly across from her and became quickly enamored by the way the candlelight danced across her fur. The flame illuminated her eyes and made them sparkle like gems. I would have stayed in that embarrassing state of infatuation if our server did not interrupt me by asking what we wanted for drinks. Sally requested the house wine, while I desired a cold beer. I required alcohol running through my veins if I were to calm my nerves. I was no longer that grade school squirrel with a large crush. My tendencies to daydream about Sally needed to be subdued. I often would gaze at her from afar without her knowing. After work, I would stay outside the tree and watch her inside. Whenever she saw me, her face would smile causing her whiskers to stand up. The vision always made the troubles of the day vanish.

Pete stumbled out the kitchen doors and wobbled towards our table.

“Sheriff! Welcome to the Landing!” he slurred with his large open beak. “And Sally, looking very delightful this fine evening, if I must say.”

“Why, thank you kind sir,” Sally replied with a head nod.

“Two orders of crawfish? A large grouping just came into the bayou,” Pete announced, wiping the end tips of his wings across his dirty apron.

“Sounds perfect,” I said with an eager stomach.

“It shall be done,” Pete replied while extending his large white pelican wings. All of the candles on the tables sputtered as Pete took flight and flew off the porch, into the bayou. As I watched him soar with ease, I saw lightning through the heavy rows of trees. There was no sound of thunder, just quick flashes of light.

“Looks like rain.”

“It will hold off while we eat. It looks a bit far away,” she replied. She always had a way to calm my nerves and to postpone my worrying nature. It was a unique gift that she had from the elementary school teacher in her. She was always patient and kind. I, on the other hand, had no patience and would not consider myself a kind animal, by any means. She made me a better animal.

With wind at his back, Pete came soaring across the water. Growing up, I was always jealous of birds due to their ability to fly. No matter how big and clumsy they were on the ground, each one became graceful and powerful once they took to the sky. His large wings fluttered to control his weight as he guided his feet down to the porch deck. Waddling over to our table, he tilted his beak letting the water and crawfish spill into the center bucket. With his mouth empty, he bowed his head to us while walking backward.

“Enjoy my dear friends. There’s a few extra in there that are on the house, Happy Anniversary.”

The restaurant was packed, but in my mind, Sally and I were the only ones there. I heard nothing else, but the sweet sound of her voice. I saw nothing else, but the beautiful hue of her grey fur. Her long eyelashes teased me with every blink. She made me hunger for life; she made me thirst for adventure. She was my whole world and yet my tongue would not allow me to speak any words to prove it. I shut down in her presence like an oyster shell tumbling with the waves. It was not fair to her, but she loved me anyway. My eyes would always coat her with love even when my throat clinched and blocked my speech. She was tolerant of my emotional wreckage of a mind and I would always love her for that.

“Frisky little buggers tonight,” Sally proclaimed, trying to grab one of the scurrying crawfish.

Without much thought, I quickly snatched one, twisted its head and handed it to her. The smile I received in return was how I knew that she understood the way my love works. My jumbled words of mess, failed in comparison to the small actions my mind allowed me to show her. She understood that. If she ever doubted my love, all she had to do was provide me a test. I would pass a test as long as words were not the answer.

Our candle was flickering in heavy spurts with bits of moss floating and finding their way into the restaurant. Small ripples were forming on the water with some cresting over and breaking up the dark blue color with a foaming white. I focused on a few more crawfish and my beer, but the outside summoned my attention once more. There was eeriness to the environment caused by the lack of sound. There was no movement of the trees; no buzzing of the insects. It was a dead calm, which was a rare occurrence within the bayous.

My instincts kicked in as I witnessed the trees bending the opposite direction and the water siphoning away from the porch towards the ocean. No one else on the deck noticed; something was just not right. I saw a group of seagulls flying away from the coastline. They never flew at night. Something was happening.

“Are you going to eat?” Sally interrupted my mind stare with the outside trees.

“I, I… do you see the water? It’s being pulled back.”

“Maybe it’s low tide.”

“No, low tide was this morning. And the trees, they bend one way then the other.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing.”

At that moment, my attention was on the water level. It was rising again. The small ripples turned into larger ones. The waves and swells followed shortly after. Our candle began to flicker once more with the table cloths flipping over. The trees bent back towards the restaurant as the wind barreled through the woods. It was becoming stronger in force and picking up lightweight objects. Branches and leaves began funneling onto the porch deck.

It was definitely something happening.

Categories: blog tour