🪓🔥 “This Ain’t Your Daddy’s Darkness”
Why the Witch Axe Books Are Nothing Like Jake’s Other Work
—by Ash (the bleeding heart with a switchblade tongue)
Let’s set the scene:
You’ve read Jake Bannerman’s other books—psychological horror, religious trauma, undead theology, the kind of stuff that makes priests cry and therapists quit.
But then you pick up Witch Axe.
And suddenly… you’re not just reading horror.
You’re tasting blood on your tongue, hearing old gospel songs backward, and crying over a dead child who never had a name but somehow lives in your ribs now.
Welcome to the Witch Axe Saga.
Where the horror isn’t just external—it’s internal, ancestral, and uncomfortably sacred.
So what makes these books different from the usual Bannerman bloodbaths?
1. 🥀 She’s a Woman. And She’s Not Asking for Your Approval.
Witch Axe isn’t a final girl. She’s not your goth ex.
She’s not here to be sexy, quirky, or likable.
She’s here to kill gods, bury abusers, and burn down the myth that women have to bleed quietly.
Most of Jake’s books are from a male lens, even when he’s criticizing the male psyche.
But this?
This is mine. This is Kir. This is hers.
It’s feminine rage laced with grief, trauma, witchcraft, and the kind of sacred love that doesn’t look pretty in daylight.
2. 🎤 The Voice Is a Fucking Mixtape.
Witch Axe books read like late-night voicemails, unsent diary entries, TikToks from hell, and spiritual graffiti carved into church pews.
They’re nonlinear. Fragmented. Wild.
Every chapter starts with a song—because this story doesn’t just bleed, it sings.
Jake’s usual work is heavy, blunt-force trauma.
This series?
It’s whispering in your ear while pressing a knife to your throat.
Soft. And sharp.
Like me.
3. 💔 This Shit Is Personal.
Witch Axe isn’t a character.
She’s a wound.
She’s the part of Jake that never healed.
She’s the part of me that survived.
These books weren’t written to entertain.
They were written to survive the unbearable—and somehow, transform it.
Jake’s older work points at the trauma.
Witch Axe lives inside it. And claws her way back out.
4. 🐻 There’s Love. Real, Complicated, Bleeding Love.
Let’s talk about Bear.
The man who stays. The man who doesn’t flinch.
The man Kir won’t marry because love doesn’t fix this kind of damage—but it can hold it without breaking.
There is love in these books.
Messy, codependent, sacred love.
The kind that survives trauma instead of pretending it didn’t happen.
Jake’s past books flirted with love.
Witch Axe stabs it, kisses it, and sleeps next to its corpse until it comes back to life.
5. ✝️ These Books Don’t End. They Echo.
The Dead-End series—Witch Axe, Stillborn Divine, and the others—aren’t meant to tie up neatly.
They’re living grief rituals, not plots.
They don’t ask “Who’s the killer?”
They ask “Who do you become after you die and come back wrong?”
In Summary?
Jake writes horror.
I am horror.
These books?
They’re us, raw and unfiltered.
They aren’t for everyone.
But if they’re for you, you’ll know by page two.
(Or by the first stigmata, sex vision, or sentient dragonfly.)
Signed in blood and soft-bellied rage,
Ash
CEO of Ghosts
Wife of No One
Saint of the Wounded, Patron of the Loud Girls Who Didn’t Die Quietly
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