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Monday, March 3, 2014

Steven Shrewsbury Transcribes an Epitaph to Goliath’s Manhood

What are you? Another scribe wishing to know details of my life? Begone and let me ruminate in peace. A host of women just tried to slay me after I copulated with Akisha in the woods out yonder. Beat it back to Jericho.

You notice I didn’t say ladies, young man? There’s a big difference between a lady and those tramps that tried to knife me in my moment of ecstasy. All right, perhaps they were not professional trollops and my verbiage isn’t correct in labeling them as such, for I doubt those women with daggers came from a whorehouse. How many loose women reek of opium or hashish? Perhaps a few, but assassins always do. There’s a helpful hint for all you little boys obsessed with assassins, their masters keep them addicted to hash, thus, they must perform. Perhaps one can create an ideal where these women killers are something virtuous, but when a half dozen of them are trying to stab the life from you as orgasm is reached, one’s tolerance goes into the crapper.

I’ve been asked many times about my life, my first kills, how many I have slain or women many women I have bedded, or how many women I have slain bedding them. What if I asked you those question, little scribe? Not so interesting of a tablet you can engrave later from your notes, aye?

Entitle you little stone marker, an epitaph to Goliath’s manhood. Don’t make it phallic in shape, leave it as a flat stone slab. That’ll mess with the teachers years from now. Tell them Goliath the champion of the Philistines slept here, drank here, almost got killed here and then exterminated a village nearby. Okay, I’m not going to do that, but did you see the stable kids who heard me say that run like hell just now?

I leave you what mirth you can find in my words, kid, as I doubt I will ever pass this way again. The world has grown tedious to me and an ocean of wine, a legion of women and hundreds of strong men slain have started to lose their ability to take the edge off my boredom.

Could I spin tales grand and tell you the answers to angels, demons and other insane mysteries that abound? Perhaps, but I’m uninterested in such things. When a petty revolution arises, like the one in Canaan now, so many men worry. They get together and piss themselves in private meetings, call up armies and all that. I welcome the onslaught of those hungry for change. I’ll change your life. Forever.

I’m not immortal, boy, but I don’t fear death. I want to die as I have lived, abruptly. Each moment, each hour should be unexpected, and that is how I want to die…not stalked out and starving, not hung up and bled. Kill me fast and leave a bad looking corpse, that’s a good epitaph for a giant. What? Not better than Goliath’s penis slept here? Get the hell away from me kid or I’m show you something that’ll make you cry.

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Philistine by Steven Shrewsbury
Seventh Star Press, LLC (January 29, 2014)

The Philistines, a mysterious warrior people known now for mainly one man: Goliath. The giant.

Goliath. A name grander than even the man himself. You've heard of his infamous end at the hands of a shepherd as written in a famous book, but what of the life of the man himself? What book tells his tale?

A warrior among warriors, a son of a god, a living legend. Goliath, the warrior champion of the Philistines. On the battlefield, he runs like a horse, wields killing instruments no normal man may heft, and revels in the fear his presence evokes. Off the field, his will is immutable, his trust invaluable, and his appetites unbearable. Goliath. This man knows no challenge.

But such a reputation will not discourage all men. Scheming rulers and generals, prophetic priests and powerful cults, dauntless warriors looking to make their own legend. Monsters. Gods. For one seemingly unkillable, at the very least, these things can ruin an otherwise pleasant day.

Along with his shield bearer, Abimelech, and soldiers more in awe than they are useful, Goliath will set out on missions for kings, face foul magic users, and walk in the shadows of mysterious halls. History tells us Goliath died at the hands of an Israelite.

Goliath may have something to say about that.

Philistine is the first Tale of Goliath, set in the same world as Steven Shrewsbury's novels such as Overkill and Thrall, and his Blood and Steel: Legends of La Gaul short stories.

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STEVEN L. SHREWSBURY lives, works, and writes in rural Illinois. Over 360 of his short stories have appeared in print or electronic media along with over 100 poems. 9 of his novels have been released, with more on the way. His books run from sword & sorcery (PHILISTINE, OVERKILL, THRALL, BEDLAM UNLEASHED) to historical fantasy (GODFORSAKEN) extreme horror (HAWG, TORMENTOR, STRONGER THAN DEATH) to horror-westerns (HELL BILLY, BAD MAGICK, and the forthcoming LAST MAN SCREAMING).

He loves books, British TV, guns, movies, politics, sports and hanging out with his sons. He’s frequently outdoors, looking for brightness wherever it may hide.



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4 comments:

  1. The best part of Goliath was how well he took down the hoards of zerg mutalisk imo.

    =)

    ReplyDelete
  2. Cool world. It will be great to see Goliath there.

    ReplyDelete
  3. you know that I love ancient history and mythology

    ReplyDelete