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The Grim Reverend Steven Rage

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By The Grim Reverend Steven Rage
Thursday, September 11, 2008

Rated "R" by the Author.

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1492 anno excerpt from "PILATE: A Brutal Bible Tale" Hardcore Horror from The Grim Reverend Steven Rage....



All alone in the midst of a nameless sea, the vampire bobbed up and down with the swells.  His wretched heart burning oxygen as it pounded his breast.  Tiny wavelets collided with the boy’s face, sea-salt stinging his eyes.  It was dark, but yellow eyes were sharp and piercing.  When he blinked away the sting, he discerned waves from the moving silhouettes encircling him.


The boy hunkered down behind a stand of barrels.  He watched Captain Columbus get welcomed aboard the immense sailing ship.

He morosely drained a large tabby cat.  He had to get aboard that ship.  The boy was frightened and past caring where the sailing vessel was bound.  He didn’t care because the local populace searched for him, even at this very moment.  The boy glanced cautiously behind him, convinced they would fall upon him each and every time he turned to look.

The boy came to the sea, figuring to stow away on a ship.  He’d live off shipboard rats and maybe a sailor, or two.  If a deckhand was foolish enough to be topside on a dark and stormy night, that is.  He could get away with that, the boy was sure.  Sailors fell overboard every voyage.  Everyone knew that.

The boy put the deflated cat gently, quietly down.  He stuffed the animal between two crates.  He looked about, scanning for danger.  No one near where he hid, nobody paying him any mind.  The gangplank was empty.  Nothing to be heard but sounds of toasts recited in the Captain’s honor.

The vampire boy rose and, after another quick peek, darted aboard the ship.  No one saw a thing.


The moving silhouettes began tightening their concentric circles, criss-crossing themselves around the boy.  Trail of blood spread out, away from him.  The blood attracted unwanted attention from ocean predators.

The boy was afraid.  The vampire had never heard of sharks.


The boy tried staying hidden during the brightness and heat of day.  He only ventured out when night fell, feasting on rats by the dozens.  An occasional cat or kitten helped to tide him over.  Cats were kept aboard to keep the rats in check.

The vampire boy did a better job.

One night, after many uneventful weeks at sea (were they going to the ends of the Earth?) he glanced from his plump warm rodent, heard a sound.  That’s when he saw the lone sailor.

The sailor stood by the edge, right hand full of penis.  The uniformed lad pleasured himself, calm sea keeping deck level.  The vampire watched him, sprouting long fangs.  He looked from side to side and, silent as blood flows through veins, fell upon the sailor.

The vampire grabbed lusty golden curls and pulled him down in one fluid movement.  The sailor hit the deck hard.  The boy crushed his trachea with a downward hammer-fist.

His prey incapacitated but still alive, the vampire dropped to both knees, drank deeply the sailor’s neck.

Pleasant fire rippled throughout the boy’s body.  He got caught in the moment.  He focused solely on the luscious human blood, lost sight of his surroundings.  He failed to notice other dangerous animals approaching.

The vampire lost consciousness.  He didn’t even know he’d been hit.


The boy’s head still hurt, broken skull fragments tangled his hair.  When he probed the injury, the boy could trace convoluted bendings of brain.  The blood trickled, cooled into the sea surrounding him on all sides.  The sharks circled.


Cold water revived the vampire.  He stared into the eyes of the Captain.  Columbus stared back, quizzically.  The Captain had hands clasped behind him.  He rocked back and forth on his heels.  He had a cross hung on a chain around his neck.  The jewelry was a gift from the Queen.  The cross danced a little with the rocking motion.  The vampire tried to look away, but too late.  The hands of the vampire began to burn.

“What manner of creature is this?” he asked.

”It’s a devil, Captain,” a crewman stated, “Nosferatu, a blood drinker.”

“He certainly looks a devil,” he agreed.

The Captain bent at the waist, got a closer peek at the vampire.  He’d never seen one before. 

The boy stared back, frightened, in pain.  Columbus noted eyes, teeth and talons the boy used to scratch his own palms.  Grunting, he shredded them to a bloody pulp, still scratching.

The Captain gave the boy a fleeting glimpse, then to the dead sailor and back again.  His eyes rested on the vampire as the Captain stood straight.

“What shall we do with him, Captain?” was asked.

“Give him back to the devil whence he came,” without hesitation.  “Throw the imp over the side.”

The sailors snatched up the half-conscious boy, heaved him overboard.  He landed with a painful splash in the icy water.

When the boy came to, the ship was shrinking into the distance.  He was alone, treading water.  His hands no longer bothered him, but the pain in the back of his head was searing, unrelieved.

Two dorsal fins split the ocean surface.


Being hit by a running shark propelled the boy forward, into waiting jaws of another one.  That shark tore away most of the boy’s left arm, a good chunk of rib cage.  The boy didn’t have time to scream before frenzied sharks latched onto him.  Their powerful jaws pulled him beneath the waves.  More sharks converged on the scene and the boy was eaten.

All the while the night sky was silent.  It watched without protest.










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