Steven Rage’s “Pilate: A Brutal Bible Tale”

Pilate: A Brutal Bible Tale

By Steven Rage

Outskirts Press, Inc.

ISBN: 978-1-4327-1797-1

284 pages

Authorsden.com/stevenrage

Look at your hands. Lines tell tales that without the right exposure live completely disguised within crevices that no amount of washing can remove. We yearn to have them clean – enough. Spend hundreds of dollars on this or that to wash … them … clean. But some stains never come out, no matter how much we scrub, steam, or sterilize. And what becomes of the hands that are soaked in generations of sins committed by their owners, perpetual motion of offenses against their fellow man time and time again? Isn’t there something that we’ve all done that we just can’t seem to cleanse ourselves from? And what if you were Pilate?

Steven Rage’s “Pilate: A Brutal Bible Tale” explores the depths of sin, the way it stains our lives, and graphically illustrates the things we fear most. He forces us to look at true sin, true villainy, and truly offensive images of alternative realities. Sometimes it takes a shock to wake up!

Rage creates a dismal post-industrial future, a look at man defiled and in decline. Evil has arrived and this is NOT our Father’s World! Dominion has been taken by those who walk as the damned, demons, Halflings, products of debauched rampages and sins against nature, and then, of course, the vampires. Sex, drugs, and broken souls are the only things of value. Life is more like a disease, and the only salvation is the right amount of Plata to numb the conscience and, if one is lucky, to bring on a cleverly disguised demise.

Introduce into this world a savior, a light for a dark world. Rejected in one life as a man, rejected in another as spiritual being, now returning in the form of woman, Immanuel returns to give God’s creation another chance. Following religious folklore, parables, and beliefs, Rage presents the readers with a God who truly is the Shepherd that leaves no sheep behind. While this tale is deeply woven with the intricacies of a dark, drug-infested world ruled by evil forces, this is the story of a lost sheep. All are God’s children, even the most foul creatures who by their own will have become so through their spiritual and physical copulation with the Devil, and as such, in God’s mercy, still are given a chance to be saved.

All members of the passion play are present, but it is the one lost sheep that is the center of this tale. The one who by his denial of Christ, his rejected opportunity to do the honorable thing, is cursed to live as a vampire that walks century after century making the same mistakes. But is his curse to be a vampire or repetition?

Hell is repetition. Pilate is in hell. Hell has dominion over the earth, but will evil, and all those who since the birth of Christ committed sins against the innocent by turning their backs and betraying the Lamb, continue to play the same roles? Is this some predestined condition, roles for the damned that have no place for an alternate ending? What has become of free will? And if we exercise free will, does that guarantee a different ending?

Through the sheer shock of his presentation, Rage forces his readers to consider the alternatives, to look at the garbage in the streets, to see what is swept into the gutters at night right before all decent people awake to see another cleaned up version of the day. He uses tradition to break tradition, to push our imagination in ways that are uncomfortable at the least and border on the offensive at worst. Yet, in doing so, he illustrates what real love is. He gives to us a God that truly goes to the extreme, any extreme, to give the prodigal son a chance to come home.

While this not a Christian book by definition, it is a religious and philosophical tale cleverly woven in a tapestry of darkness. Horror by definition and presentation. Depths reminiscent of Dante’s Inferno. Do you dare enter this world? Bravery has its rewards, and Steven Rage’s “Pilate: A Brutal Bible Tale” is worth getting your hands dirty for!

J.M. Aguilera, MLA

Professional reviewer, writer, poet

Discipline

The vampire held her close,

so close that she could almost

pull this female flesh into her own,

surround her like a jacket,

become one from skin to bone,

nothing between them but

the slightest suggestion of

moonlight slivering in

through the wooden blinds

creating a blue haze

that covered her like a shroud

or a veil under which lay

secrets untouched,

saved for her wedding day

that in thirteen hours would have been

‘cept getting caught in the storm

that brought her to the vampire’s home,

soaked from the freak ice and snow

that fell where none should be,

and having only one bed,

brought the shivering creature

next to her beneath animal skins,

pressed close to her bosom

as she shared what was left

of her warmth to save

this lost soul sleeping in her arms,

nearer to death than she could

ever imagine,

breath touching bare shoulders

leading to the life line

where in vein attempt

the vampire fights to keep

her desire in check,

repressing fangs from their

full erection, thinking

castrated thoughts,

flaccid dreams to drown the fire

while counting the minutes until

the sun rises and she can fall away

into her darkness once more and

send the maiden safely out the front door.

Endless

I tasted you on my lips today,

tasted the sweet hot blood you

last shared with me as

my eyes closed in the memory,

the dream of you and me.

Fangs plunged deeply into

a fattened vein, full and waiting

to be popped, throbbing desire

calling out for one last kiss.

The wind woke me with cold caresses,

and I immediately inhaled like

the suckling reflex of a new born babe.

I felt the chill settle into my lungs,

a punch to the gut

bringing on the cough of surprise,

elements of whispered moments

in your arms lying on imported silk bunting,

resting in peace while looking gravely

at the others who know life no more,

laid at our feet while we tiptoed over

their last rites and decaying rose petals,

catching tears as they washed over

their loved ones faces,

colored the freshly dug earth in

make up and sweat,

salty dew drops of human frailty long forgotten

along with their memory of us,

still lying together, waiting

for the last of them to leave

with the sinking sun,

so we could rise and take in

the newly arrived occupants,

waving goodbye as we parted

for the night in search of

what no longer ails these

lost souls, going out into

the veil of darkness where they wait

for us to arrive, the answer to

their prayers for deliverance

from their grief, something

to take away their pain,

check the obituary to be

sure we’re in the right place,

add another name to their

family plot, another of their line

mysteriously fallen into the

arms of death, another

in the long line of exes

who thought they’d

seen the last of us

when they blew out our brains

after we caught them

breaking the vows they’d made

in another lifetime.

Too bad reincarnation

doesn’t bring back the memory

so they’d understand why

generation after generation

we must continue to suck them dry.

Hell hath no fury like vampires scorned.

FAITH

You bring your desire to me wrapped cleverly

In chiffon and lace innocence

Pretense of not knowing what you are doing

Claiming to be doing nothing but having

A little wine and conversation

So civilized in your presentation

Merely being social with your graces

Nothing here but sweet untouched honey

Dripping from a comb

Natural confection from pollinated

Pansies and clover

Used to write secrets on

Magnolia scented stationary

Pressed discretly into my palm

Slipped from under the silk handkerchief

Your mother sewed for you three years ago

On your eighteenth birthday

You’re much too young for this game

I’m older than you could ever imagine

I’ve seen more than a hundred lifetimes

You don’t think by now I can smell you

And what you want from me

So many have applied

So few have been chosen

Desperation is not appealing

It’s when you don’t want me

That I appear

Seduction is in the eye of the beholder

Take my hand, quickly, before you turn

And pretend to walk away

Take it and then come

Come with me

Ah, you resist, now there’s the sweet

Scent of a challenge

Filling my nostrils with the hunt

Fox turning tail and running

The hounds are at your heels

And I am breathing down your neck

The Devil is on your back

Hanging on for your dear life

Poised to strike like a scorpian’s tail

Have faith

Just look over your shoulder

And I’ll be there.

Hope

Artwork: Victoria Frances

The familiar pop broke the silence

Without spilling its contents

Glasses came out of nowhere

All eager to taste the first drop

Sparkling bubbles gleaming

In the moonlight

The strokes beginning slowly

Marking the arrival of twelve

Each one tolling in rhythm

To the beating of her heart

Breasts high and heaving

In anticipation and thought

She’d caught her eye earlier

Felt the rush of excitement

Fill her veins

Felt her passion awaken

With such delightful pain

Memories of nights long passed

In distant destinies

Voyages they’d taken

Through time and ecstasy

Searing hot desire planted

Slowly in virgin soil

Vein full and throbbing

Waiting, wishing, wanting

Head thrown back exposing

Flesh that with the right wrong move

Could bring death

Sweet dance on this hot wire

Between heaven and hell

Sin and glory

To know them again

Plunging deeply

Searching for a pulse

Then clamping down

On the well-spring

Fountain of youth

Flowing freely, willingly

Washing over cold hot lips

Ushering in her heat

Sharing the fire that freezes

Eyes shut

Mouth open

Deep breath with every sip

Unlocking the secrets

Overflowing below

Beneath the cover of night

Oh come, Emmanuel,

And take thy bride!

The prayer heard

She is at her side

Taking her into her arms

And sealing her vow

With a crimson stained kiss.

Charity

i270.photobucket.com/…/vampire-woman.jpg

What is it that you’re afraid of?
The unknown?
You’ve gone there before.
Prices you’ll pay?
You’ve paid them before.
Consequences?
You’ve faced them before.
You think you know
What it’s all about.
You’ve seen it all before.
You’ve seen the ones before me.
You know what you like.
You know.

But what if you’ve missed something?
What if this one time is the something
You’ve been looking for?
What if this is the moment
You’ve been waiting for?
What if this is the answer
You’ve been searching for?
What if what you know
Is the one regret you’ll
Live your life through,
Wishing for another chance
At something that won’t come again?
An experience for all time.
A moment when the mystery
Is solved and all that is empty
Is suddenly filled?
What if in one kiss,
Your eyes will be opened
To all the world,
And then you will really know
What you know?

With one embrace
Between heaven and hell,
Where flesh gives way
To twin ivory explorers
Pushing slowly, gently,
Purposefully to the hilt,
Allow your life to flow,
Filling cupped lips caressing,
Soft tongue lapping,
Wanton wounds sprinkled
With slight painful delight,
Reminding you every time
Your hand brushes over them
About what you really know.

Book Review: “Ducking Out”

Another frank, sensationally saucy adult novella from Blue Sleighty

The tabby cat’s stripe blends in with the bark on a tree, where he customarily dwells. The doberman has dots over his eyes, so that when his enemies see him sleeping in the dark, they think his eyes are open, even when his eyes are closed; the baby fawn has white spots on it’s brown back, so that it will blend into the snowy landscape of the early spring. And, the sandy haired, green eyed woman is colored so, I am now convinced, to blend with the monstrous green eyed devils and lapping flames of the pits of hell (p 11).

ADventure. ADmire. ADdicted. ADieu. What happens when a good Personal AD goes bad, and when trying to make a graceful exit, you discover there’s “no where to run, no where to hide”? Blue Sleighty’s “Ducking Out” takes readers through a step by step relay that includes quick thinking, quick exits and quick changes.

Recovering from a series of life altering losses, Blue finds herself “suddenly wanting to behave badly in ways that my mother would most certainly disapprove of “ (p 5). So, she decides to explore the world of internet dating. The new bar scene for the new millennium allows Blue to explore the intricacies of seduction and romance in more informative ways, or so it seems. After all, shouldn’t a series of emails and phone calls be enough to know that this one in particular is a potentially safe bet?

Meet Ricky. She’s a cop with an attitude, willing to bend the law in her favor and take the law, and Blue, in her own hands. Her first move on Blue is to literally steal her away – can you say kidnapper? In true Blue Sleighty style, our heroine not only finds an amusing and creative way out of her situation, she ends up with the girl. The girl next door.

Lisa is an attractive woman who sympathetically invites Blue to hide out in her house until she can safely get out of the neighborhood. Her invitation is not entirely without motive. As Lisa and Blue get to know each other more, she lets Blue in on a little mystery, a mystery that only Blue can help her solve.

While trying to avoid a cop gone wild, what starts out as one night of passion becomes a series of ducking and dodging close calls. All the while, Blue opens more doors for Lisa than Auntie Mame could ever imagine! Theirs is a fantasy come true, enjoyed, explored and exploded without regard to how long it might last. This is Lisa and Blue’s ecstasy, brought to the reader between covers as stimulating as the sheets they share.

But in every paradise, there comes a snake, and in this story, that snake’s name is Ricky. She just won’t give up, trailing the duo into the Texas Hill Country, where she sets a trap that brings a final showdown. Will Blue and Lisa escape? Will they ever be free to openly enjoy each other? Is there nothing that can stop a cop on the wrong side of the law?

Sleighty’s work is a sheer joy to read. Her words entice, excite, provoke, entertain and bring to mind the adventures so often told in the lesbian pulp fiction of 1950s and 1960s. Unlike other novels that take you to distant lands, planets, historical moments, or other voyages, Sleighty, like her predecessors, writes about places that her readers can relate to in the here and now. She uses what can be seen and experienced in the present, bringing her readers into her work. In this way, she introduces her readers and her characters to each other, inviting them to take one another’s hands and dance.

“Ducking Out” is an excellent work that exceeds the expectation of erotica and adult fiction. Sleighty writes knowledgably and with a mastery that can be felt with every description, every line, and every detail she presents. You will feel the heat. Your blood will boil. You will laugh and cheer. You might just need a cold shower, a martini, and a cigarette before it’s all over.

On so many levels, Blue Sleighty’s “Ducking Out” stands along side the best of its genre and takes the extra step to compliment the saucy with one incredibly sensational story line that ties it all together. Don’t duck out on this one! It’ll be your loss!

J. Aguilera, MLA

Professional reviewer, writer, and poet