Category: Fangs of the SS

Old Crusader Castle, the hills of northern Tunisia

“The demon sun, that hateful eye, is about to rise. And this was a good day’s work. ” She stands for a moment longer in the castle’s window, enjoying the view. With pupils so dilated that they appear black, she sees the surrounding landscape clear as day; or what she remembers as day. The castle, an old Crusader fort from the Middle Ages, perches on a hill overlooking a valley. A narrow road winds up from the valley to the castle. The only approach to the castle is by the road.

Jackals bark, out in the hills, and she smiles in remembrance, revealing her fangs. She’s a beautiful woman, dark skin, thick black hair, and a vampire, gorgeous in a tight fitting SS uniform. Her insignia give her the rank of Gruppenfuhrer. For the last few centuries, she has been known as Countess Elizabet Bathory. She turns away from the view and joins the rest of the people in the room. “Sturmbannführer von Regensberg, give me the status of our units in the field.”

She enjoys von Regensberg’s animal beauty, a blonde animal in human form, bred for killing, made into apotheosis by her kiss. There was a sword she had the same feelings for in the distant past somewhere. Continue reading “(Fangs of the SS) CHAPTER 2: Castle Of Blood” →

November 1942

Somewhere along the road between Souk el Khemis and Beja, Tunisia

“Fucking sand gets in everything!” Simco’s staring into his C-ration can with disgust.

“At least when the chow tastes like sand, it doesn’t taste like shit.” Mirsky’s older and more philosophical than young GI sitting next to him on the rocky ground. He forks the unidentifiable food, gray and slimy and tasting of nothing in particular. He’s eaten worse, a lot worse. Abruptly, he’s back in the hold of the ship, taking him and a thousand other refugees to the fabled land of America. The rat writhes in his grip, trying to bite, but he bashes its head against the bulkhead. He’d never been a particularly observant Jew, but that voyage had broken him of any urge at all to keep kosher.  

Noise brings him back to preferable present. Thunder and lightening on the horizon. Or is it artillery? The soldiers huddled around the trucks and in the foxholes can’t tell. They’d been moving all day, escorting a convoy of gasoline tanker trucks up to the front, around Medjez-el-Bab.

“Are those our only choices: sand or shit?” Simco’s still poking glumly at his food, doesn’t even look up at the noise on the horizon.

He’s a good enough kid, Mirsky thinks to himself, but he pays attention to all the wrong things. Americans. What can you do? “Ain’t nothin’ else out here in this fuckin’ hellhole. I’ve seen Baku and I’ve seen Newark and lemme tell ya, this place is the pits.”

“Sand, shit… and them… those god-damned creatures…” Continue reading “(Fangs of the SS) CHAPTER 1: Night Attack” →

When Golems fight Nazi vampires in WW2, a war weary Rabbi must use all his Kabbalistic skills to defeat an ancient evil.

This is a tale of WW2.

Weird War 2.

1942: The US Army is fighting the Wehrmacht through the hills of Tunisia, enduring its baptism by fire and blood. During the day, the Army is doing well, slowly pushing Rommel back to the coast. But the vampires own the night. The SS vampires of Sturmfuhrer Countess Erizbet Bathory come out of the dark to kill and destroy. And the only ones that have been successful against them are Captain Joe Maccabbee, the Fightin’ Rabbi, a combat Kabbalist, and his Golems: Malkuth, Hesod, Binah, Tipareth, and Geburah.

Honest to God, this one came to me in a dream. I dreamed the poster, a 60s painted poster. And when I woke up, I thought about it and came to the conclusion that, yeah, it might make a viable story.

This is a work in progress. I’ve written 3 drafts of it as a screenplay but after getting an encouraging critique that ended with the words “It’ll never get made, too expensive.” I decided to rewrite it as a novel.

I hope that you like it.