Two and a half years after placing the order, the Flesheater – a hand crafted fighting knife – has arrived! Though my husband will argue otherwise, this Flesheater is mine. Yes, knife ownership is a running joke in our family, and even our son tries to get in on the action, but since he didn’t spend a cent on it, we can easily rule him out. Believing that ownership is 9/10 of the law, my husband hid the knife from me, and maintains that since I don’t possess it, it must not be mine. Wrong! The knife is mine and I’ll tell you why…
It’s because I’ve had it in MY possession for the past few years.
Okay, maybe I didn’t physically have the fourteen inch weapon in my hand, but I’ve featured the Flesheater in one of my manuscripts before we ever placed our order with custom knife maker, Jim Hammond. Since the knife plays a key role in my story, I’ve long dreamed about how my Flesheater would look on the book’s cover (not that cover art is up to the author, but I can dream…and seriously who wouldn’t want a knife this awesome on the cover?) Therefore, I conclude that she who spent hours researching, writing, and dreaming about the Flesheater knife is truly its owner. Besides, it feels really good in my hand.
Now this is a knife!
So why am I’m getting worked up over this knife? Well for one thing, Scott’s sensei, A.J. Advincula (world renown martial artist/ instructor, retired marine Master Sergeant, and knife expert) designed this fighting knife so you know it can’t be improved upon. Although, in my case, the knife won’t be used for fighting as much as for collecting…though I did make sure it was nearby the other day when two vehicles stopped in front of my house, raising my suspicions… Ahem…I digress.
If you’re interested in the history, design, and specs of this knife, visit Jim Hammond’s website. The following is a short excerpt from my manuscript, The Survival Race, in which the hero describes the Flesheater.
“Damn you, Duncan,” Max muttered, and tossed a box aside.
Addy returned the khaki uniform to the shelf. “What’s wrong?”
“The guy collects seven guns but only one with ammunition.”
“One is better than none.”
“Hardly. There are only three bullets in it. He rummaged through another box and then whistled in awe when he unsheathed a Rambo looking knife. “I’ll be damned. You know what this is?”
She restrained from stating the obvious.
“It’s a Flesheater.” He turned the stainless steal weapon in his hand. “Strictly a fighting knife. Nine inch blade. Short handle with finger grooves for a secure grip. Curved lower edge. Designed to cut through a man and keep better edge contact than a straight knife. This is one serious weapon.”
Addy gulped. The gladiator certainly knew his knives. And apparently how to use them. Good thing they were on the same team…at the moment.