Review of Guns Of Perdition, by Jessica Bakkers

Happy Sunday! We’ve just had a week of unseasonably warm weather up here in the Great “White” North. Many of us took advantage and hung out our Christmas lights, instead of waiting for the finger-numbing deep freeze.

On this chilled out Sunday, I wanted to share my experiences with a great book I just read by Jessica Bakkers, Guns of Perdition (The Armageddon Showdown Book 1) . It was both thrilling and chilling all and I loved it!

Heres what Amazon says:


Jessie expects he’ll be forever cleaning up after the cowpokes of the Bad Hoss Saloon. That’s until the day a drifter strides through the doors, and blows away a blood-sucking demon, along with Jessie’s belief in an everyday world. Jessie is captivated by the enigmatic Grace, with her pearl-handled revolvers, and wolf companion. He throws in his normal life and follows her across the Wild West, as she hunts down and slays the evil creatures that roam the frontier.

Along the way, they seek the aid of a Native American warrior, cross paths with a Cajun Queen, and encounter a small-town tycoon with a deadly hunger for gold. Animosity and distrust plague Grace and Jessie, and their strange group of allies, but they must put their differences behind them if they’re to have any hope of finding and defeating the frontier’s true evil, the Darksome Gunman.

The Armageddon Showdown is a dark-fantasy, weird western series of epic proportions, focusing on the age-old battle between good and evil, though in the Wild West, it’s not always clear just who is good and who is evil.

Join Grace Dyer and her band of miscreants as they battle demons and demi-gods, in the frontier’s deadliest conflict…the Armageddon Showdown.

My Turn

I’m not a Western fan at heart, but this went far beyond my expectations. Bring six main characters together, each different in everyway, each one haunted by painful memories, Each guitly of their own seven deadly sin, yet completely unaware. Each one of them justifying their actions for revenge, lust, greed, and love.

I’m familiar with Revelations in the Bible, and this take on that book enticed my curiousity. Though I’m aware that it’s work of fiction, I couldn’t help but ask, “What if?”

There were more than ‘two scoops of action’ in this book, so my adrenaline junkie was satiated. There were plenty of well orchestrated plot twists, too. Not a dull moment hiding behind any page.

I must add that I enjoyed Grace’s dialogue. Her idioms and slang flowed smoothly and I chuckled more than a few times. That’s no easy feat, without getting repetitive. Well done, Jessica!

If you’re into gunfights, thrilling scenes, ‘end-of-days’ cliff hangers, spiritual battles . . . this is your book!

FIVE STARS from me!

Meet Jessica Bakkers:

I am a creative writer with over twenty years of writing experience. I am a speculative fiction writer, and have written in the genres of fantasy-romance and paranormal-romance, however my genre of choice when it comes to writing for myself is dark fantasy where I can allow myself to fully explore the anti-hero characters that pepper my stories. I dabble at poetry and have written professionally for clients locally and internationally.

My debut novel, Guns of Perdition, The Armageddon Showdown Book 1, is a dark fantasy stroll through a weird wild west setting, pitting bad heroes against worse villains.

My major love affair is with the written word; specifically creative writing. I allow myself to indulge and rendezvous with this secret lover whenever time allows… and then we make beautiful poetry together!

Purchase your copy:

Connect with Jessica



‘Fiction In A Flash Challenge Week #23 Entry by Mark Bierman #WritingPrompts #WritingCommunity #FlashFiction

Hello everyone, today I’m featuring my contribution to Author Suzanne Burkes’ “Fiction in A Flash Challenge!” Each week she features an image and invites writers to write a Flash Fiction or Non-Fiction piece inspired by that image in any format and genre of their choosing.  Maximum word count: 750 words. Please head over to Suzanne’s wonderful blog site and have a look around! Click on this link:

Here is the photo prompt for today’s blog:

“Forget it Talbot, we’ll never get down there! Not with the bullet hole in your paw! Never mind neither of us can swim a lick.”

“Hear that?”


“Don’t sound like we’ve much choice, Earnest.”

“Hounds! Coppers are comin’! How close?”

“’bout the same as a grasshopper can shotput an elephant, be my guesstimate. We gotta’ skeedadle! ‘Less ya’ wanna go back to an eight by ten cage and floaty meat sauce suppers.”

“Heck no! Do ya’ think the chopper’s comin’?”

“Pshaw! Listen, Bekr—”

“Hate that nickname! Should a fed Billy a knuckle sandwich with a side a hand chop, right cross the neck! Long form is worser, Be Kind Rewind. Kinda’ morose comes up with such hogswallop?”

“Anyone gets five years for video piracy deserves it.”

“Comin’ from Mister Parkin’ Warriors? Ooh! Park here, there, in front of hydrants and driveways. Pretend you’re leadin’ a revelation ‘gainst the almighty arm of the Parkin’ Coppers. Torchin’ tickets, leave ‘em burnin’ in the street. Bad a**! ”    

“Revolushion is what ya’ meant. Pay no mind to that. Earnest, I say we jump. Rock, Paper, Scissors to see whose first?”

“You’re on! One, two, three, shoot! No! Ya’ can’t use your shot up hand, that’s cheatin’!”


“Ya’ always use rock then, and I use . . . oh, I see! Wait! Let’s do that again.”

“What’s so funny?”

“Uh, nothin’, jus’ go. Lemme count. One, two, three . . . dang it! Ya’ can’t change paws! ‘gainst the rules!”

“Says the infamous Blue Ray Beard, captain of his momma’s basement couch? Ya’ think I’m stoopid ‘nough to use rock again? Sure ya’ didn’t eat the plastic T.V. Dinner trays?” 

“Shut up, Talbot! I’m warnin’ ya’, or I’ll stuff a tire boot in it!”

“I don’t think the FBI heard ya’. Those ‘Finders of Bumbling Inbreds’ they warn ya’ about jus’ before the movie.”    

“Shh! Coppers ain’t far behind. Them mutts are getting’ louder. One of us has to go and if he breathes, yells up.”

“What ‘bout if he croaks? Ouch! My hand!”

“’Enough of the smart walkie talkies. You’re thick as your ma’s toenails, how about ya’ pick a number between one and ten. I’ll say if ya guest it.”

“Yup, plastic and beavered on lead painted toys.”

“What do ya’ suggest then, genies?”

“Put your hands up! Turn around and walk slowly backwards, towards us!”

“Dang, Earnest, look what you done! Jawin’ till the feds caught us.”

“Me? Your lips were flappin’  like a dogs’ out a truck’s window.”  

“Get your hands up, turn around! Move to us!”

“Jus’ a moment. Need to hash out who’s done what.  Bekr thinks I done get us caught. But he don’t know when to beat feet out of an alley cats’ can. ”

“What’re you talking about? You’ve got until three to put—”

“We got your air mail, bud. Talbot was sayin’ we gotta’ butter our popcorn. Line our dragons with the startin’ gate. Ouch!”  

“Ain’t said that way! It’s churn butter for our popcorn and drag our horses to the startin’ gate. Ya’ gonna’ quote somethin’ get it right.”  

“Enough! Get them!”  

“Talbot, that an eagle flyin’ out there?”

“No, jus’ a haaaawwwwkkk!”

“I knnnnooooowwww!”


“We’re alive! Earnest, good job! How’d you know we’d make it?”

“Huh? Jus’ knowed, is all.”  

“Look at ‘em coppers up there! Can’t get us! Look at ‘em shakin’ their fists and pointin’!”

“Uh, Talbot, they’s not pointin’ at us. Water up ahead is boilin’ like it’s got a hundred hippos passin’ wind all at once.”

“Yup, there’s a might racket comin’ from ahead. I’ll have a look see. Jumpin’ jiminy cats! What in the Sammy’s Hill you gotten’ us into? Ya’ toady brained pint-wit?”

“’Scuse me, the correct terms is Jumpin’ Jiminy Crackers and horse-brained half-wit. Some wise acre once settled me straight on quotes and their properly meanins’.”

“Hush! I jus’ had movement in the gray Jello in my attic.”

“Can’t wait for this Hershy squirt of  gospel truth.”

“This is serious stuffins’. Pull the ‘taters from your ears and listen up.”

“Be easier if they wasn’t fillin’ with water and the noise of those gassy hippos, but out with it.”

“Well, ‘member the coyote and road runner cartoons we watch? You know when the poor coyote is up in the air and realizes he can’t fly? ’member what happens next?”

“Talbot! You sayin’ what I’m thinkin’?  You side of beef butt you! Why’d ya’ hafta remind us that we can’t swim?”

What if Trees could think and Talk?

Happy Halloween! Here I sit pecking away at the keyboard like a hen in the dirt, my only sources of light are a desk lamp and the glow of this screen. Behind me is a window that’s currently more of a dark mirror than a view of our driveway.

Yup, Halloween 2020 and later today, we’ll be setting up a candy scavenger hunt for our kids that’ll take place this evening in our yard (some glow tape will be wrapped around the packaging to make things a little easier).

Just an interesting factoid, before I get to the promised tree-thingy. On the radio yesterday, I heard that this will be the first time since 1944 that we will have a full moon on Halloween . . . anyone else hearing Warren Zevon’s – “Werewolves Of London”? At the end the radio announcer said, “What do you expect, it’s 2020.”

Ummm . . . well yes, but, in 1944 the world was still in the grips of WWII, I’m sure those must have been strange and scary times, too.

So, yesterday, as I was out for a walk and admiring the flora, my kooky mind decided to explore a ‘what if’. What if trees, just for one night, let’s say, Halloween, could think and talk? Would they compare bark complexion? Gripe about never getting to redeem points on their travel reward cards, or perhaps the loud mouthed crows that perch on their limbs? When they creak in the wind, are they really groaning about aches and pains, especially the oaks. Ya, they seem like whiners to me, and they do get really old. So here’s my compilation, there’s a few of them, maybe I got carried away, but I think it’s important that someone speaks for these stoic sentinels that do so much for us. 🙂

“So you actually stay the same color all year? (snicker) Ooo . . . looks like someone’s green with envy!”
“Hayyy, Tony, ya ‘no watt? I thinnk we’ve jus’ mite ‘ave had tooo mush, sap.”
“Why, you young whippersapling! All you do all day is show off! It’s like ‘Look at me! I still have some hair and all my branches!’ Just wait till some beetle bores into you someday!”
“My two-hundreth birthday and they dress me up like a preschooler’s playground!”
“Thirty-years! Thirty-years of doing the limbo! My back is KILLING me! If I had a mouth, at least I could take a pain killer.”
“Ha! We have leaves and you’re all bald! Nope, nothing you can do about it ’cause you can’t move!”
It wasn’t until he grew up that Ralph became aware that the rumors about his dad being a giraffe were true.
“Well, Jake, I think when the Nut Hatchinsons come back next year, I’m going to raise the rent on the penthouse.”
“Hey, any of you guys ever get a gnawing pain in your belly?”

Today I’m A Guest of Mae Clair

I’ve packed my bags and went to visit talented mystery and supernatural thriller author, Mae Clair. I’m a big fan, so it’s quite a thrill in itself just to be there. Please stop by and have a read, it’s a short trip, all you have to do is click on this portal . During your stay, please do have a look around at her wonderful blog site.

Fiction in A Flash Challenge” WEEK #20

Hello, today I participated in Author Suzanne Burke’s Fiction in a Flash. This is a weekly challenge in which she posts a photo and we are asked to create a work of fiction. The limit is 750 words and you are asked to link your post to her site. While you’re there, please check out her wonderful blog, social media and her action packed books. I have read and reviewed her books and highly recommend them!

It’s me, Jeb Ansley.  I’m mullin’ over what happened at the Hornswoggle Casino. All I’m hearin’ is the swish of hooves tramplin’ switch grass. I’m ignorin’ the latest lava flow made by Heaven’s Volcano in the sky. Regret’s a cataract that blinds me to all the niceties and to literal direction.  

It’s a good thing Amber, my horse, knows the way back to Brackett’s Creek . It’s home to me and what used to be my best pardner, Sully.

The day began pleasant enough, no duties at the ranch. We were all-fired up, rolling up them flapjacks like burritos and cramming them into our mouths.

Poor Miss Haverstock, the ranch cook, “Manner’s, boys.”

I’d apologized through a mug of squished batter, then hurried out the door. We’d stashed our pay for this day. No gettin’ roped into the usual bets at the ranch. We’d the resolve of a hungry dog turnin’ its nose at steak from the master’s table. Not too proud to say that we were a might proud.  

Anywho . . . the day didn’t quite pan out. I’m an expert faro man and took the reins. Sully was happy to warm the chair and get an educashun’.

Turns out that perhaps a nod to last night’s moon should have been in order. Haverstock warned us, as she’d darned my socks for the “umpteenth time,” because I apparently refuse to cut my toenails.

“When the moon is crescent shaped, just like my oatmeal cookies when you take a bite out of one and throw back into the jar, claiming that you hadn’t actually eaten A cookie. Well, when it looks like that, not a good omen. By the way, that still counts as a whole cookie.”  

 Pshaw! Old hen. I wasn’t prone to put stock, beef or otherwise, into such hocus mumbo jumbo. I said so, and she’d balled up my socks, then tossed them at my face. The yawns suddenly plagued me, so I’d declared bedtime. As I walked the hundred paces to the Bunkie house that Sully and I had bought from the ranch owner, Hoggsbelly, I shifted an eye to that half-eaten space “cookie” and wondered if the hungry alien had bothered to dip it into the Milky Way first.

Well, bully for the spinster because today has gone from bad to worse. Every last morsel of currency was lost within few hours. Sully groveled for cessation, but dang it, quitters never win. Out of cash, I lied about wanting to hold Sully’s pocket watch to keep track of the time. It’s an heirloom from his great grandpa. I can’t help if Sully is a duffer and actually handed it to me. Now poor Sully needs a sundial.

Sully overacted and boo-hooed for its return, but no deal. He grew madder than a March Hare and tried to choke me, but I brushed him off like lint.

“Let’s just go home!” he bawled.  

By all accounts, I meant to, but you see, we passed a faro table where the grand prize was a horse. Well, that little gambling flea bit me square in the arse and I just had to have it. I did an unholy thing, I pulled out the deed to our home and slapped it on the table. Sully was quickly restrained by some ruffians who promised not to hurt him if I bought them a drink afterwards.

Drumroll . . . I won! Got myself a beauty beast and we kept our lodgins’. I went outside to claim the prize and was admirin’ my score when I was thumped on the nogging by a whiskey bottle. The Lord saw fit to equip me with a head carved from granite, I recovered quickly and turned to face the yellow belly. It was Sully!

He was all possessed like and to tell the truth, it frightened me a wee bit. There was nothin’ for it, he raised the bottle for another strike, and I shoved him clean into a filthy pig pen, just behind him.

I speed wobbled to my new prize, took the reins, got on Amber and pulled foot like Sam Hill’s hounds were nippin’ at our hooves, well, at my heels, too, you git what I mean.

I’m home and I don’t expect Sully to return soon. Bunkie’s all mine changed the locks, though. I’m gonna hang that buffalo head outside, put a gold ring in its nose, ‘cause I heard that women like that sorta thing. Gud night, all!