So I may have gotten possessed by inspiration. Again.

You ever start out casually researching a historical murder spree and then realize you’ve written 3,000 words of supernatural crime fiction? No? Just me?

Well, buckle up, because The Axeman is the latest unholy cocktail I’ve been brewing—equal parts Jazz, Metal, demonology, and true crime vibes, shaken over ice and served with a twist of horror. It’s set in the haunted heart of New Orleans, and no one’s safe—not even the ghosts.

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🎷 The Premise:

In 1919, the Axeman of New Orleans sent a letter claiming he’d spare anyone playing jazz music on a particular night. That’s a real thing. Creepy, right? Check it out here.

The killer wrote a letter, in which he states that he’s a demon from hell. And on Tuesday, March 18th 1919 at 12:15 am he would kill again unless everyone was playing Jazz music. This is all true so far. Again, CHECK IT OUT HERE!
The night comes, and every club, and house in New Orleans is blaring Jazz music.
The next day, no murders are reported.

Now imagine:
What if the Axeman wasn’t just a serial killer…
What if he was a demonic entity, bound by music?

Flash forward to the present day.
A Goth Metal artist inherits an abandoned nightclub from their late grandfather… and unknowingly stumbles upon the secret to banish The Axeman.

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🧩 What You Can Expect:

• A mysterious nightclub with a dark past
• A missing jazz composition that might be the key to survival
• A demon who hates silence and loves murder
• One very confused musician trying to survive New Orleans without losing their mind (or their soul)

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✨ A Taste (Unedited, Unapologetic Excerpt):

The music had stopped.

The city, still buzzing with disbelief that every jazz musician in New Orleans had played through the midnight hour, had gone eerily quiet again.

In a small, smoke-filled nightclub off Burgundy Street, a man stood alone behind the bar, sleeves rolled, shirt damp with sweat. He moved to the phonograph, gently lifting the needle off the spinning record. The room seemed to exhale.
He took the record carefully between both hands and slid it into a white sleeve with black, hand written lettering:

Sonic Sigil

Without a word, he crossed the room to a wall safe, turned the dial, and locked the record away.

He stood still for a moment longer, spun the dial once for luck, and disappeared into the shadows.

No murders were reported that night.

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🎭 Why I’m Writing This

Because I love mixing genres, playing with legends, and telling stories that start with “This is probably a bad idea…” and end with “…but damn it was fun.” The Axeman is my tribute to music, fear, and the madness that comes with inheriting things you don’t fully understand.

If you like your horror with a groove and your mysteries soaked in bourbon and shadow—this one’s for you.

So with that, I am taking a break from music reviews for now. Up until this point I had been researching albums on my own to review, but if I get a suggestion for a review, I’ll absolutely knock it out.

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🧠 Thoughts? Questions? Favorite jazz-metal demon theories?
Drop a comment or hit up my Contact Page.