The Damned

Accumulating the souls of evil-doers was boresome. By the time they arrived in Hell, they were haggard, broken, their nefarious ways lost with their humanity. The infinite number of vanquished souls, shrieking throughout eternity, begging him for mercy, could no longer placate Lucifer’s restless spirit. They were barely husks, depleted by an afterlife of torture. While their misery was satisfying, it was not stimulating. No, they could not engage him like he could the living.

Mankind lined up to serve The Dark Lord, lazy individuals seeking a shortcut to notoriety. Together, he and his entourage amassed an empire, fame born of envy, desire, and relentless promotion. Their exploits were renown. Beautiful people threw exclusive affairs, parties where alcohol flowed like blood, dark rooms behind closed doors echoed with the sounds of lust, and lucrative handshakes bound the souls of men to the service of Satan. The media clamored over vapid stories of privilege and glitz.

Their willingness to sacrifice eternity for a photo with him on the cover of a magazine left The Devil incensed. It was too easy. Society was no more challenging than the phantom remnants of The Damned. His efforts were not wasted, however. His proximity to immorality and relationships with the depraved certainly made it easier to identify and gather wicked souls.


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Frankenguitar should not have survived that fall. His neck was hopelessly broken. He was dead, gone. His dismembered head dangled by only slackened strings. Dark magic and wood glue revived Frankenguitar, but his injuries left him disfigured. He became a recluse, seeking solace somewhere deep in a Michigan forest. The locals there say, if you burn a campfire late enough, Frankenguitar will serenade you in the dark.






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The Guardian of Time

“The Guardian of Time” is a Mayhem Universe trilogy featured in my upcoming short story collection, Mayhem Genesis. You briefly met Father Aetas in The Tempest’s Tower 2: New Beginning. What is his story? How is he linked to the gifted? Does he have powers?

All regarding Nerio Aetas, aka The Priest, will be revealed in Mayhem Genesis. His origin story is linked to the universe’s origin story, making The Priest a key player in many of my tales of mayhem.

The book is set to include 12 unique stories, 4 separate trilogies. I absolutely love to tell stories. Writing poetry is a very close second. I figured out a way to do both within the pages of this book. For example, here’s an excerpt from “The Guardian of Time: Part 1”:

With the breath of this clime
Conjure forth sands of time,
So that they may merge,
Under the eye of Demiurge,
With the fruit of the land
Upon which I now stand.

I would love to give you some context, but that would ruin the story. I certainly welcome your theories though! You just have to wait for Mayhem Genesis to find out if you were right.




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Cheers to 1 Year!

Thank you to all of Carrie Mayhem’s followers! It has been an incredible year. I had no idea what I was doing when this blog first hit WordPress on January 16, 2014. Not only that, but I had no idea where I was going with it either. I owe my WP family a debt of gratitude for all of your guidance, support, and friendship. Thanks to you and my real life friends & family, I finally have direction. I am so excited about what 2015 is set to bring!

I’ve been working so hard on Mayhem Universe’s first publication, Mayhem Genesis, that this blogiversary snuck up on me. I have great big plans for Mayhem Universe. If things go well, this little world that started as a summer project for me and my son, will become bigger and badder than either of us ever anticipated. I wish I could share our scheme in greater detail, but it’s not time yet. Stay tuned..

Since I am so excited, I’ve decided to give you a sneak peek at a new Mayhem Universe short story trilogy, “The Twins”. The conclusion to this story, and 2 brand new stories related to these characters will be included in Mayhem Genesis. Enjoy and THANK YOU! MY LOVE TO YOU ALL! This dream wouldn’t be my reality without you!


Introduction: The Twins, part 1

“…Yes ma’am, twins, a boy and a girl… Yes, yes, I know you requested just a single male, but we did not realize… No, ma’am this is not how we usually do business… No, of course not, no additional cost… I know, it is very last-minute. We can find her another family if… Of course, I take full responsibility. I am very sorry for the mix-up… Yes, that price does include new identities and documentation for both siblings… Very well then, I will meet you there personally… Goodbye ma’am.”

Harry Mountebank exercised all of the restraint that he could muster and gently set his phone upon the desk. He rested his balding head in his hands and massaged his own temples. He inhaled sharply and growled to his son without looking at him, “Boy, you’ve managed to displease Victoria Vicious herself.”

“Father, I did as you said. I entered their quarters, grabbed the baby basket. It wasn’t until I was outside, when they both began crying, that I realized…” Stewart whined.

“So you didn’t glance in the bassinet before you grabbed it to make sure the boy was even in it?” The volume level of Harry’s voice rose as he continued his inquiry.

The girl child began to whimper and stir again in her bassinet.

“Shhhh! Don’t wake her!” Stewart whispered desperately. “The other one hasn’t stopped crying since I grabbed him. I can’t listen to them both wail again.”

Harry looked at his son incredulously. He rose from his seat and peeked into the bassinet. “What are you talking about?” His irritation was becoming concern.

Stewart covered his ears and shook his head. “Ms. Vicious should thank me. At least the girl is not miserable. Victoria is going to wish I had left that boy behind. He shrieks incessantly!”

Harry secured the girl’s pacifier. She was immediately soothed. As the siblings lay huddled peacefully together, he replied, “Son, I think you need to get some rest. This baby boy hasn’t made a peep since you walked in here with him.”


To be continued… Mayhem Genesis, coming soon!!



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Hot Garbage

What I am about to say is not about my social beliefs or feminism. It’s more about OCD. I needed to say that before I say this… taking out the trash is man’s work. I don’t have a garden, nor will I ever own a pottery wheel. I thoroughly detest having filthy hands. I refuse to grow out my fingernails because of the disgusting, bacterial contaminated shit that gets under them. The very thought of getting dirty launches my gut into my throat. Sure, maybe that does speak volumes about the state of my sanity. However, to those who know me, this is not news. My husband did not marry me for my willingness to touch waste. So, when I do tackle the monumental task of removing the full trash bag from the trash can inside and transporting it to the dumpster outside, I kind-of expect to be thrown a goddamned parade.

I almost never ask my husband to do anything around the house. I’ve pretty much got that covered. Plus, he has the gift of sight. He can see what needs to be done. Typically, he doesn’t need to be told anyway. He’s totally willing to help… except when it comes to the garbage and recycling. If I don’t specifically ask someone to remove the bag when it is full, my hubby and my son will cram their waste into that can until it is threatening to vomit hot garbage all over the kitchen. I hate to nag, so it gets to that point more often than I should publicly admit. I am also starting to think that the recyclables are invisible until I point out that the heap is nearing counter height. Only then does anyone but me seem to notice that repugnant grime is reaching critical mass.

This morning, the kitchen smelled like burning death. Initially I was just going to leave it until my husband got up, but I was consumed by the stench. Plus, he has a rare day off from work. I decided to grant him a reprieve and just take care of it myself. Sometimes a vacuum effect causes the bag to get stuck, making it a real challenge to hoist the trash out of the can. Not today. Today that sucker slid right out. I should have been wary but I was too busy being pleased… until I realized why. Seems there’s not much of a vacuum effect when there is a large vertical tear in the bag.  This one spanned from the very bottom corner all the way to 3/4 up the side of the bag. The minute that sack was liberated, 4 day old refuse began spewing free of its confines.

I’ll spare you the details of the moist, oozing hell that I had to touch with my now forever unclean hands. It’s not that I don’t want to gross you out. It’s just that we haven’t reached the worst of it yet, and I am already grossed out myself. For God’s sake, swampy garbage bread disintegrated in my fingers. I cried a little.

I finally managed to cage the steaming heap of trash can discharge. I transported it outside, gagging and convulsing along the way. The dumpster is almost as tall as I am, so holding the lid open while hoisting a rather heavy bag into it is awkward, to say the least. I managed to heave my swill bag up and in successfully. However, the weight of that percolating rubbish jarred the lid free from my hand the moment it hit the bottom of the dumpster.

Before I tell you what happened next, I should mention… it rained here for 4 days straight. There is water everywhere…

That lid slammed closed with what seemed to be the force of an Oldsmobile falling off of a bridge and crashing into a swamp 30 feet below. The water on top of the lid, the water under the lid, pure, vile garbage water, sprayed clear to my neighbor’s yard. You know what was standing between the dumpster and the neighbor’s yard? ME. I took the vast majority of that disease polluted wave of scum water directly to the face. Oh yes, I GOT DUMPSTER WATER IN MY MOUTH.

So, from now on, unless I’m ferried down Main Street as the Grand Marshall of the Garbage Day parade, sporting a sash & crown, sitting atop a streamer adorned float, while princess waving to my adoring masses, I am never, ever taking out the trash again.


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