Santa in Black

by Jonathan Moon

Little Billy Skip dreaded the Christmas season, not for its candies and gifts- which he enjoyed quite a bit, but due to his crippling fear of Santa Claus. The other children would tease and laugh, they found his Santaphobia a real gas, but Little Billy saw something sinister in the Jolly Old Elf and his holly decked halls. 

He would write him no letters, nor sit on his lap. He trust not his wide smile, his jiggling belly, nor his silly sagging cap.

On Christmas Eve Little Billy would go to sleep as early as he could, in hopes of sleeping through his Santa-themed nightmares to wake up to presents and everything good. His brothers and sisters awoke from visions of sugarplums dancing in their heads by a thunderous thud-thudding downstairs which scared Billy right under the beds. They ran downstairs to watch Santa dispense his gifts, leaving Little Billy alone to cry and sweat in nervous shifts. Billy sat thinking of years past, the flashy presents and the joyful laughs, soon he was scampering after so silent and fast. He tip-toed noiselessly down tinsel wrapped stairs, only to find headless his mom, dad, brothers and sisters.

A pale, thin Santa with scabby face and filthy beard, all dressed in black from his boots to his cap, was dropping their heads into his swollen black sack. Billy ran to his room, to hide in the safety and gloom. He dashed to his window, and threw it open in a panic to scream out for help, but, sadly, fear choked his voice and he could manage only a yelp. On the street outside below Little Billy saw dozens of Santas in black, one and all a heaping bag slung over his back. 

HAPPY XMAS ALL!

You can find more of my work here. :)

Grasshopper Season 0 by Jonathan Moon

0: Poison the Soil, Poison the Pupas

It is happening.

Deep in the darkness of the Hoo-Doo County woods something wicked stirs. Hidden away from light and populace stands a tiny wooden shack; its weathered slats the color of bone and malevolence leaking from between them into the thick evergreen forest surrounding it. No insects buzz, no birds chirp, no winds disrupt the dry pine branches.

In the dark of the shack, something glows terrible neon colors.

It pulses in dark, and it forces itself into the soil and trees and brush. 

It glows in its rhythmic pulses, and it reflects in the tiny wet orbs leaning over it and weeping at its greatness.








(Next Chapter Saturday March, 8th)

Witch Hunt Sunrise II by Jonathan Moon

Blood everywhere and we all feel alright.

Maybe dizzy, probably high.

We’re dancing. We’re dancing into the Light. And we’ll keep dancing on through these dark new days in our shoes of whore-skin leather. We’ll wave our garish crosses built of infant bones and barbed wire, and the village will stomp along. We’ll have us a witch hunt, boys. Burn her up to cinders, piss on them ashes, and take her land deeds. We’ll build there on our rewarded property, and the Light will glow from the temple her sacrifice has wrought. We'll sacrifice the heathens then, use their blood to grease the gears in our new machine. We’ll be dancing in the Light, tracking bloody footprints through our shiny new temple, content in these dark new days.

Maybe dizzy, probably high.

Blood everywhere and we feel alright.   

You can find more of my work here. Thank you for reading. 

TRICLYOPTIC LIVES!!!

I'm pleased to announce that I have a new collection available for you horrorheads. 
I've collected my kindle-only Hoo-Doo County Horrors and Hoo-Doo County Horrors 2 and slapped them into an old fashioned paperback book! But that's not all, I've also included a ten-story sampling from another kindle-only collection due out later this year, Everything Is Gonna Be Alright and Other Out and Out Lies.
After we take a look at the sweet ass cover done by Matt Edgington, I'll break down some of the stories for you.

Hoo-Doo County Horrors:

The Full Moon Express- The story of Leon, the big rig driving killer werewolf, and the new friends he meets on the twisted roads of Hoo-Doo County.

Witch Hunt Sunrise- One of my earliest and still darkest pieces of flash fiction. (A personal favorite)

Roadside Crosses- A fan favorite of mine involving a haunted highway and a hateful ghost.

Parched- There are vampires in these there hills...


Hoo-Doo County Horrors 2:

Letter From the Bottom of a Mine Shaft- A flash piece written from the view of one of the last humans on the dying Earth.

Corpse Eater- Another fan favorite, introduces us to Marty and Ripper, the two undertakers from the strange Stillwater Funeral Home.

Owing Ira- A novella length story about displaced hit-men and rural murder/rapists. The most extensively re-worked story from Mr. Moon's Nightmares so far. Thicker and meaner than before, the first of a three novella series.


Everything Is Gonna Be Alright and Other Out and Out Lies:

Everything Is Gonna Be Alright- A mantra, say it over nd over and maybe the world won't eat itself.

Whiskey and Water- A flash piece centered around a small shore town.

Dreaming Durkhiem- My sleep is often invaded by social theorists.  

Under the Twin Moons of X2313AR- A sci-fi twisted flash piece about a futuristic game show.

Three Hits of Hash On Top Of One Hit Of Weed- Sometimes it isn't just what you are smoking but who you are smoking with.

The Rotting- This world stinks of decay.

Sensible Sam and the Horrors Everywhere- An oldie but a goodie which has been waiting to see publication for a number of years now. We follow Sam through a lifetime full of deadly encounters with all manners of monsters to see what finally breaks him down.

Great Purification- A deep-woods redneck ends up the herald to a devilish fire-God set on engulfing the world in flames.

Joy Ride- A serial killer with a taste for fast cars and random pedestrians.

Little Black Jars- My most extreme story to date, about a robot addicted to human souls. Too man he needs other humans to find the souls in corpses before he can ingest them. The brutal robot rapist Mr. Cottonseed will haunt your dreams...with a dark Johnny Cash soundtrack.


BUY TRICLYOPTIC HERE!

Fed Fat by Jonathan Moon

Fed fat on name-brand lies and the toxins distort my perceptions. I hear the clanking of the gears, and the metallic wisdom comes with the tang of blood dripping from my ears. My fists are clenched, my voice is gravely, and my soul is a muddled mess. What is real, what is right, what is profitable? 
I hear ghosts from the past- laughing and jeering, and voices from the present sound like robot curses. They tell me the truth, the truth I know, 'We are the Romans.' And we feast like the Romans, on rotten meats and rich fats. We gorge and purge, we swallow it all down. Hope tastes so cynical, but it washes down the sour of Doom.
 My stomach hates it all, and knots and groans its disapproval. No time to vomit, yet another spoonful for my eyes, ears, soul. A flood of rumor and mis-truths we swim in, we drink in, we drown in. I put on my War Face, and slam my spear into the ground. For God. For Country. For my Masters and their Masters before them. 
I misdirect my aggressions and prides. I'm fed fat on name-brand lies.



You can find more of my work HERE.  

Dreaming Durkheim by Jonathan Moon

Speaking of Social Theorists invading dreams, I dreamt I was eating dinner with Emile Durkheim last night. We were served terrible meats covered in bitter sauces by naked people while he explained his theories to me in broken English. When he began explaining how social norms are born from frenzied emotions I set him on fire. Everyone else panicked but he simply waved them away.
 
"Don't help me", he said while he immolated.
 
He slowly burnt to death at the table, his English improving as flaming chunks of him dropped on the floor. Once he was dead the naked servers came and devoured his carcass at our table. They carried his bones outside and began adding them to a small bone building out back.
 
"One day this will be great." The naked people explained in unison.
 
I woke up trusting no one.



You can find more of my work HERE. 

New Story at The Shwibly!

You can read my new story 'Three Hits of Hash On Top of One Hit of Weed' right now over at The Shwibly!

Everything Is Gonna Be Alright by Jonathan Moon

Everything Is Gonna Be Alright

Seers and priests argue their premonitions of disaster and prophecies of doom with murderous vigor as plans are set in motion. Destiny hangs thick in the air an electric chaos the great kingdom breathes. Everything is gonna be alright.

Thousands of bones have been unearthed in the field, discovered by children at play. They say they will build a tower with them all and it will reach into the heavens. Everything is gonna be alright.

The old king was set ablaze and he burned without a word. His ashes are the color of autumn leaves. Everything is gonna be alright.

A communal fear of the future, so kingless and grim, grips the people. They’ve taken all the children, the future, to the largest temple and set it ablaze in honor of their immolated king. Everything is gonna be alright.

The shaman has turned on his people, cramming lies in their ears and poisons down their throats. Many die but the survivors boast scars on their souls and trust. Everything is gonna be alright.

The prince dove on his sword rather than face this dark new day. His power-mad generals usher forth chaos and war as they battle for his abandoned crown. Everything is gonna be alright.

The queen has been raped by power-mad generals in their delirious quest for a prince of this dark new day. With her jeweled dagger she gives herself to Hell filled with the seed of evil men. Everything is gonna be alright.

The cities are all in ruin, crumpled stone and twisted metal, slippery with blackened ash. The villages are scorched patches of earth dotting devastated countryside. Everything is gonna be alright.

The people have carved out their eyes now, their reality too much too bear. The monsters have shown themselves, they’ve been here all along. Everything is gonna be alright.

The earth, she is bleeding, all of her rivers and oceans have turned to blood. The blind and mad are dancing now, tracking crimson footprints all over the ruins of the kingdom. Everything is gonna be alright.

The skies have turned black, forever tumultuous with the raging smoke from incessantly burning fires. The rain has turned to acid and it sizzles as it eats away flesh and bone and stone and ash. Everything is gonna be alright.

The great serpent has swallowed its tail. Everything is gonna be alright.



You can find more of my work HERE.

 

The Rotting by Jonathan Moon

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