PRINT and KINDLE Editions!


Juan went back to the same dark shoddy bar, again. And, again, he went without Mary. She stayed away to tend to Bubblegum, keeping her stoned and happy. The comely coop-chick still thought they both had a sex crush on her. They let that cluck-fuck fantasy remain intact.
“I wanna shove it up her tiny stink-hole.”
Juan needed to find Pilate, this time, for a face-to-face meeting. Nobody knew the vampire, or where he cribbed or how to contact him. It didn’t matter, however. Juan wanted no one but his Mary and him in on this plan. The Harbor may be a post-industrialized ghetto shit hole, but they knew small town rules still applied. Everybody knew everybody’s business: who was zoomin’ who. It’s just like Mayberry, but with a much higher body count. Except in Mayberry, Andy and Barney wouldn’t let you get the skin flayed off your body while fucking a dead dog for a 5K NewRupee auto-deduct.   

Fuckin’ squares!”
They could tell no one; trust no one. One word of what they were planning and niggas might kill them simply because they hadn’t thought of approaching the vampire Plata dealer first.
Once again, Juan made his way through the drunk and fucked-up bar crowd. He was nervous as all hell. He’d been drinking more than he should, smoking super-strong ghetto weed constantly. Finally, after almost two weeks of this nerve-wracking shit, Mary pleasantly surprised him with a handful of muscle relaxing pills which he doled out to himself; one at a time. It helped a great deal as he trolled the same sleezy, sticky, loser filled bar, night after fucking night, waiting for Pilate. He was worried the blood-drinker wouldn’t show up and even more nervous that he might.
Juan did a perfunctory head check of the patrons, seeing no Pilate around, had to pee. With some growing dismay, he pushed back, deep into the bar, toward the back hallways, stairs and the toilets.
Juan split the curtains of human skin, replete with freckle, scar and mole stains, and pierces the confines of That. He entered the first hallway. Juan took the stairway down, following the signs to the bathrooms. Humans and Halflings alike were engaged in all manners of drug consumption and sexual congress. A young girl was tugging on folks, pleading with them all for the return of her hymen. Juan just shook his head. How the fuck should he knows where her freshness seal is? Shit.    

KINDLE Version!

Juan stepped down about six more feet before he came to the first body. The male was long dead, judging by the smell. But that didn’t give the old woman with a bald, spotted scalp the right to straddle his below the knee leg amputation. She periodically coughed up mucous from her blow hole onto her hand. The old woman used it to further lubricate the dead fuck’s stitched, blunted stump-cock. As Juan carefully and quietly passed her by, he noticed she was vaguely see-through.
“We gotta go through Hell’s Own asshole, just to take a piss?”
Ignoring Morbid patter; –“Hello?”– Juan kept working his way down in to the dark red smoke, until he finally reached the landing. There he saw a man with his hands secure-tied behind him. A taut, tight rope of aborted fetuses pulled up the man’s wrists. The babies were secured to each other by their own long, convoluted umbilical cords. A sulfur and sugar smelling pit-demon was feeding the rope of abortions through a dog skull pulley. The man’s mouth was buried on a firebrand. The acrid smoke curled from his burning mouth. The demon stared hard at Juan whilst he pulled on the rope. He dislocated the man’s shoulders and kept pulling. The man never made a sound. Only his tears bore witness to his True Pain.
“Can I go to school here? It looks like they got some Level 10 pain downtown, Bubbie!”
The restroom was filthy and crowded thick with men pissing. Trannies were sucking dick, their johns holding cash above their bobbing head as a promise. Drugs were being snorted, deals going down. Some nigga was desperate enough to tie his shit off in this horrid crapper in one of the door-less stalls, flicking up a vein, trying to feel for a bump to target his needle.
Juan went into one of these stalls. Some passed out fuck, pockets having already been turned out, slumped over to the side, head planted into the feces smeared wall. He considered trying to wake him or dragging him off the seat. Instead, it was most expedient to simply pull out his pecker and piss on the motherfucker. He wouldn’t care.
Juan was just shaking it and zipping up when he sensed someone. He looked up and right into the face of the old man with the big mass of dreadlocks again. The same polished slummin’ dude that was trying to holler at their Bubblegum. He smiled cruelly at Juan. His jumpy nerves made him cringe.
“You sure you want this, dear fellow?” asked mister fancy dreads.
“Want what?” Juan retorted, confused. The old guy is human, not a vampire, not a demon. That means dreadlocks teleported himself here. Other than the Indian Army, Juan had never meant anyone who could afford teleporting. He figured if someone teleports themselves into this shithole, Juan had better pay attention to what dreads was saying. At least dreads didn’t have to go back up through all that shit to get to the bar again. Juan would.   

"After God deserted us, the doomed and damned crawled up from the Great Pit to live and breed with us."

 “Are you sure you want to meet the blood drinker?” he asked Juan.
“What’s it to you?” Juan wanted to know, getting wide with the cunt out of a deep-seeded need to not kowtow. It was ingrained and had gotten Juan into trouble many times.
“Don’t get smart with me, young man,” he admonished. “I am The Good Doctor,” he began. “I am Pilate’s sponsor and protector. You need to be sure of what you wish for.”
“Why’s that?” Juan asked, a bit more politely.
“Because it may just come true,” The Good Doctor stated. And then he winked out.
Just then a cold hand dropped solidly on to Juan’s shoulder from behind. It was strong. The talons growing out of the split fingertips dimpled Juan’s coat, punctured the cloth, and pressed into his flesh. Juan was surprised at how much it hurt. He sucked it up though and stood tall.
“When you wish upon a star…”
“You got balls hunting me,” the Nocturne told him. Pilate squeezed a little more and made Juan hurt a lot. “But do you have the heart?”
“Makes no nervermind who you be…”
“I’m not after you, we mean you no harm.”
“What do you want then?” 
“We wanted to meet you,” Juan told him.
“You and the girl you were with?”
“That’s right. I was hoping to speak with you.”
“And you are?” the vampire asked with a bit more pressure. It was getting bad, the pain, but Juan knew a test when he felt one. Juan told him their names and intentions. “Services?” he asked, “What services?”
“Whatever you need, you know, help,” said Juan, arm going numb, fingertips tingling unpleasantly.
“You two want to help me sell drugs?”
“Yes, exactly,” Juan replied
“And what, exactly,” Pilate mockingly replied, “makes you think I won’t kill your uninvited ass where you stand?”
“Because we would not dare to seek you out empty handed, Sire,” Juan told him.
“Stop the ass-licking sire shit, I don’t like it,” Pilate warned, “And it will not help to keep you, or your Mary alive.”   
“What shall we call you then?”
“Nothing yet,” he said. “What do you have for me?”
“We have an offering.”
“Offering? What kind of offering?”
“Blood,” Juan stated,” “A continuous stream of it.”
The Nocturne smiled then. “Yes,” he replied, “That might do.”
“I can take you to Mary, where she is being kept for you. And then we can bring her to where you stay.”
“And this token of your esteem is in hopes that you and Mary can work for me, with me? Is that right?”
“Yes, exactly,” Juan agreed. “We can be of great value and help. We can assist and protect you.”    
“What do you hope to gain and I expect the truth from you,” Pilate advised with one more, tiny squeeze, “Your life, where you stand, depends on it.”
Juan did not have to think, Mary and his motivations had never changed. “We want in,” he said simply, “And you are the way.”
“The Truth shall set you free.”
The vampire was silent as he removed his painfully frigid grip from Juan’s shoulder, blood seeping now from the talon punctures. Juan could feel him moving close to whisper in his ear.
“Well now, seeing as you two now work for me,” the vampire said, “I guess you should call me Pilate.”
We’re in, thought Juan.
We are!


Where to Turn When You Want to Make your Blood Boil and your chest Heave ...

Three cuts of bizarre hardcore horror from the macabre mind of the grim Reverend Rage. Three sordid tales of demons, revenge, botched suicide, organic narcotics, torture, halflings, freaks, vampires and a post apocalyptic society coming apart at its seams. Three trips to the dark side that'll leave you reeling... yet unable to look away.



Coming soon ...