Demon Axe

***DEMON AXE***

I see all of my writer friends publishing novels left and right and it makes me wonder what I’m doing sitting on my ass. The last time I wrote a novel, summer in 2015 was coming to an end and the story was a psychological fantasy called “Watch You Burn”. Ever since then, it remained a first draft and I had devoted my attention to other projects, such as the WSS contests, editing the shit out of “Occupy Wrestling”, and editing the shit out of “Poison Tongue Tales”. And then I had real life obstacles getting in the way such as sleep apnea, concerts, and exhausting housework. Wherever could I find the time to write a novel these days? Do I truly have to wait until November a.k.a. NaNoWriMo?

The correct answer is not only no, but hell no. I used to pump out novels like an assembly line back in my younger years. They were shitty novels, but they were novels nonetheless. So what pray tell is keeping me from writing a novel in today’s world? Absolutely nothing. Those other creative projects can be done side-by-side with my novel and it wouldn’t affect my energy levels. It’s been a full year since “Watch You Burn” and now it’s time to get some shit done.

In the same way that “Occupy Wrestling” lionizes pro-wrestling and “Watch You Burn” supports people with mental illnesses, this new novel idea, “Demon Axe”, will lionize heavy metal. When you get right down to it, those are the three tropes I live with the most: wrestling, metal, and schizophrenia. Such a wonderful combination! So here it is, ladies and gentlemen: a character list and synopsis for what will be called “Demon Axe”:

MAIN CHARACTERS:

Daniel Mercer, Heavy Metal Singer

Shawn Henry, Police Detective

Raven Triscloud, Elf Warrior

King Triscloud, Elf Leader

Roger Zee, Elf Zealot

Johnny Vega, Giant Wrestler

Sonia Marquez, MMA Fighter

SYNOPSIS: Daniel and his band Demon Axe play a show on an open field that is believed to be holy ground for elves. Not believing the legends, the band goes ahead with the show anyways and encourages the wrath of Roger Zee, a machete-wielding elf who slashes the audience members to pieces. While Shawn Henry tries to investigate, Daniel is visited in the late hours of the night by Raven. Raven wants his help in hunting down Roger and putting him back in his tomb. Daniel confesses that the band name Demon Axe and their onstage dark fantasy gimmicks are just for show and he’s not a real warrior. Raven doesn’t believe him.

If you’ve seen the name Raven Triscloud before, it’s because she was a character in a D&D campaign back in 2010. I’ve asked Heather (the original owner of that character) if it was okay to use her in a story and she said yes. I tried to recycle her into a dark fantasy novel called “Fireball Nightmare”, but that story was too Gary-Stu and Mary-Sue infested. Hopefully, Demon Axe will be a better fit for her.

Spoiler alert: there’s going to be a sex scene in this novel. Not just any sex scene, but an ANGRY sex scene. I’ve often wondered if people really do have angry sex with each other. It seemed legitimate after I went to a Three Days Grace concert and Matt Walst asked the audience pointblank, “Have you ever fucked somebody you hate?!” The audience erupted into cheers after that, so I guess angry sex is a real thing.

I have two other novel ideas that are planned out from beginning to end: a debt collection drama called “Debt of Pain” (naturally) and an animal fantasy called “LuNacho” (named after two stray cats who eventually went to the Humane Society named Luna and Nacho). Demon Axe appeals to me the most right now, but that doesn’t mean I’m casting those other two ideas aside so easily.

Because I want Demon Axe to be a full-fledged novel and not a shortie like “Occupy Wrestling” ended up being, it will have to conform to the 40,000 word quota. That means all twenty chapters of this novel will have to be at least 2,000 words long, which is 500 more than what I’m used to writing with chapters and short stories alike. It’s going to be a challenge, but I know full well that if I keep writing within my comfort zone, I’m never going to get anywhere.

Wish me luck, faithful readers. Keep your devil horns up in the air for my boys Demon Axe!

***DARK FANTASY WARRIORS***

Dovald ended up scaring the shit out of my mother when I showed my drawing of him to her. If she thought a bulky dark paladin with creepy face paint was something to behold, she’s never met Tara Greenlee. Tara is a demonic hallucination from the short story “Dancing with Mary Jane” who torments two corrupt cops to the point of insanity. Tara Greenlee is basically Guillermo Batista from “The Balrog” on steroids. Watch out for this bloodthirsty monster!

***LYRICS OF THE DAY***

“You can’t see California without Marlon Brando’s eyes!”

-Slipknot singing “Eyeless”-

Dancing with Mary Jane

“Justice will find you!” With blood in her lungs and a slowing pulse, those were the last words of Tara Greenlee after being gunned down by Officers Frank Hennessy and Sylvester James. Her head dropped to the sidewalk and her mouth expelled a puddle of life juices. Everyone around her recorded the scene on their cell phones. Some of them screamed in horror. Others burst into a waterfall of tears. Frank and Sylvester laughed at all of them and rubbed their eyes in mockery. All of this violence over a bag of medical marijuana, which Sylvester was dancing around with and flashing in the faces of bystanders.

Because Tara Greenlee’s killers were on-duty cops, they didn’t get the death penalty or even life in prison for their heinousness. They were suspended with pay for a whole month. There were factory workers, teachers, grocery store clerks, and others who worked their asses off their entire lives without getting so much as a day off. In Paulson City, if you were on the police force, all you had to do to enjoy a month-long vacation was brutalize civilians.

How would Frank and Sylvester spend their vacation? They could have gone on a Caribbean Cruise. They could have gone mountain climbing in the Rockies. They could have sat on their asses on a Florida beach. But since Tara Greenlee’s “contraband” was still in their possession, they had other ideas of how to kill a month quicker than they killed her.

The “festivities” would take place at Officer Frank Hennessy’s house, particularly in his living room where the flat screen TV hung on the wall and a bowl full of potato chips was resting on the marble coffee table. Frank was already stuffing his pudgy, bearded face with chips when there was a knock on the door followed by, “It’s me, Sylvester!” Frank answered the door and the two corrupt cops high-fived and hugged each other like their bromance was much more than that. Frank was especially cheery when his skinny buddy flashed the bag of Mary Jane they had unlawfully taken from Miss Greenlee.

“So, what are we watching tonight, my friend? Are we gonna go all out and watch The Matrix? Maybe we should watch a Tim Burton movie or something. Or how about that Pink Floyd movie!” said a giddy Sylvester James.

“I got something better than all of those,” said Frank. He pulled a DVD out of his collection called “The Best of Both Worlds”, the container showing naked hermaphroditic women drooling for sex.

Sylvester clapped his hands and laughed like a little kid in a toy store. He bounced his way to the couch and allowed Frank to put the DVD in the player. The two rogue cops began rolling up little marijuana cigarettes as the “hot action” was being shown on the video screen. As soon as Frank pulled out a Zippo lighter and lit both of their joints, the two cops sank into the couch like quicksand. With dopey red eyes and drooling smiles, they watched the porn movie with fluttering in their hearts for the double-organ actresses.

The first twenty minutes of the movie revolved around Sylvester and Frank sitting crouched forward to hide their “little problems”. They laughed like donkeys as they smacked each other with couch pillows and jokingly called each other “fags”. The fun and festivities came to an abrupt halt when Frank relaxed in the sofa and started seeing the porn starlets in a much different way.

One of the naked women’s skin started necrotizing into a black and red lava mix. She grew fangs that looked like little daggers as they hung down to her bottom lip. Red scaly dragon wings sprouted from her back. A brown hairy tail sprouted as well. Her fingernails grew to the size of Freddy Kruger’s blades. When she screamed at Frank, she sounded like a grizzly bear ready to maul its helpless prey.

“Dude, is this some good shit or what?” said Sylvester, who at this point looked less like a mop-haired beanpole and more like a fire-eyed zombie with blue skin.

Frank was hard-pressed to disagree with his partner’s statement. “Yeah, man. That bitch had some good shit on her. I love the war on drugs!”

The demonic woman got on all fours and crawled out of the television set, shattering the coffee table upon making her arrival. She let out another beastly roar, which caused Frank to wet his pants and Sylvester to laugh like a fool. “Come on, man, this shit ain’t real! It’s just a hallucination!” said Officer James, who then got his whole head bitten off by the frightening woman.

Frank was crawling over the couch arm and screaming in terror while Sylvester’s headless body squirted a fountain of blood in the air. The demon woman licked her lips after sloppily masticating what was left of her victim’s dome. “Mmmmm, delicious!” she said in a throaty voice before roaring again.

Officer Hennessy crawled on the hardwood floor and let out panicky groans. The demonic woman jumped in front of him and revealed her true face. She now had the scraggly dark hair and bloodshot eyes of Tara Greenlee. Frank got into a fetal position and cried like a little bitch. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry for what I did! Just please, leave me alone!”

Tara grabbed Frank by his white shirt’s collar pulled his face close to hers, smiling like a skeleton with slimy dental hygiene. “It’s too late for atonement, my friend!” she said in her growling voice. “You took something from me that I fought for since I was a little child! That marijuana was for breast cancer! I was about to make a full recovery when you and that bloody piece of garbage over there shot me in cold blood!” Tara was breathing deeply and grunting in between cadences.

Tears were dribbling down Frank’s cheeks as he kept saying, “I’m sorry!” over and over again. Tara smiled her sick smile at him and chucked him halfway across the room, where he crashed through his desk and screamed with a mixture of fright and pain. The monstrous avenger pointed at Frank Hennessy and laughed while taking pictures of him on a smart phone she produced with her magical powers. She even rubbed her eyes sarcastically and said, “Boohoo!” with even more mockery.

The irony wasn’t lost on Frank, who in his moment of crippling pain and grueling tears felt around for something he could use to defend himself. It was then he remembered the desk was where he kept his pistol. Tara continued to horse laugh, but Frank would have the last word when he found his pistol and opened fire.

Every bullet hole that pierced Tara’s skin let out a volcanic eruption of blood and organs until the whole living room floor was flooded up to Frank’s ankles (now that he was standing on wobbly legs). He limped and trudged through the murky flood until he saw Tara on her knees screaming and crying in agony. “You little bitch!” yelled Frank before he jumped on her and rained down relentless fists upon her horrifying visage. Her cheek bones, nose, and teeth were cracking and splitting with every hard shot. Frank even held Tara’s head under the blood flood in an attempt to drown her. After a while of kicking and bubbling, the demon stopped moving.

Frank, ignorant of the pain he felt crashing through his own desk, held his arms up in victory and shouted, “Yes! How does that feel, you little skank! Nobody screws with the Paulson City Police! Nobody! We’re number one!” He repeated that last line over and over again until the pain finally caught up to him and he passed out on the bloody floor.

A bright new morning was shining its sunlight through Frank’s windows. The rays felt like little flamethrowers against his eyes. His head was thumping like a bass drum. He coughed violently as he woke up for the day. After rolling on his back and slowly opening his eyes, he saw his fellow police officers looking down on him and confirming he was alive.

The cops pulled Frank to his feet and he suddenly got a better view of what was going on around him. No demons. No fangs. No claws. No dragon wings. The only blood stain in the whole living room was the one left behind by Sylvester, who was being carted away on a gurney with a light blue blanket draped over his corpse.

“Franklin George Hennessy? You’re being placed under arrest for the murder of Officer Sylvester Kenneth James. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to legal counsel. If you can’t afford a lawyer, one will be provided to you by the state. Do you have any questions about these rights?” said one of the cops while Frank’s hands were being cuffed behind his back.

Frank did have a question and it was a good one too: “What the fuck just happened here?!”