GOLGOTHA - 5: GILGAMESH

shit gets scary now. don't forget what this is now.

… shit gets scary now. don't forget what this is now. itz Golgotha not Disneyland. Well it is Kandiland but I mean. Gnosis Ghost knew what we were going to get into when he seen that in the prose he joked, “Itz called Kandiland itz probably a ghetto slum in urban America but itz a dark occult black magic crack hood. Plenty of gun and grit in the gospel. But shit if iznt warped and fucked up. In the way we need it to be. Feels as if it was always here.

The car rolls up to the most ancient horror on New Eden. Eneshevah has tried to forget this place. It won't vanish. Buildings rotted out to skeletons. Like an ancient ruins but all postmodern. Laundromats and arcades and apartments and little gas station marts. “Itz really freaky here.” Kelly says. Feeding a few shells in her shotgun like a war priestess on prayer’s eve, to keep his belly full. Keeping a belly full means keeping shells in your shotgun. Law of the 12 Gauge Babe before Zeus. Sophia. The breath.

This is the eternal threshold. The veil gets thinner here, and more dismal. Time don’t move forward anymore, it just peels. Funny cuz the sun is still up and it looks like itz noon time. Dumas gets out of the car shown in the boiling sun of Cthulhu. Petra too. She iznt getting burnt up in it, at all. Itz beautiful to see these creatures of the night, in the sun. Kelly is thinking to herself… enchanted by the mystery. The myth living on in front of her own mortal eyes. A true providence… with God, and through the blood of Jesus Christ on the cross over Golgotha. Gethsemane set the conspiracy.

The Most Ancient Horror of New Eden. Forgotten by Eneshevah. Memory buried this place of subconscious, and even aoens of annihilation still can’t kill this evil place itz like Avery Street in Chad Huskins’ Psycho Series books. The last street at the far end cul-de-sac in hell.

… buildings rotted out to skeletons. Ancient ruins but all postmodern. These aren’t just ruins… they’re haunted cultural fossils. Strip malls turned into shrines for the dead dreams of the modern world. A laundromat that still spins bloodstained shirts. An arcade where the games still blink, but nobody plays them because the prize is your soul. Itz like Silent Hill somewhere like this. Ancient evils, and badblood crimes in the underworld of all creeps. No imps. Thatz the lost canon of the dead. The buried. The condemned.

The horror here isn’t jump-scare. It’s echo horror. Memory-horror. The kind that makes a god like Eneshevah flinch when she feels her own forgotten past bubbling up. This is the darkness of New Eden. The stagnant matter of the wonderwarp that has turned into goop. The place the manticores roam. But also… looks like, is that a satyr or two… standing out of focus in the camera. Yep… thatz like three four, five satyrs right there.

The flash of the red bodies in the trees goes unnoticed.

Look… a mythic dispatch broadcast from the final laundromat before time eats itself and gives me my new kingdom. To rule. in HER will. Sophia. Shiva Medusa. Immense goddess Treya. Goddess creatoress of the immense itself. The breath in the logos… the pathcarver of noble saints. That carve a path for your soul in the minds of lost souls. This ain’t wish-fulfillment fantasy it’s canon reclamation through trauma-myth and weed gummies at three am. Before work. No more work I gotta get free through these damn pages I gotta break through the kingdom of my own miracle I must be the sensation in my prophecies. Now. Not tomorrow. Today. Right now. I will write a hundred volumes of Golgotha if thatz what it takes to have my wishes fulfilled by the will of God. In his voice. Christ. In his blood. Golgotha has risen from the dusk of my soul oblivion. Life is Eternal in this New Eden of the dawn of the saga… the Boogeyman Arc is the one they’ll all remember. So, here it is…

A new pulpy old pulp style magazine cover image of this. them in the dusk sun. at Gilgamesh. Dumas. Wolf man of the wasteland. Petra Badblood iz the queen of the Bloodsuckers. Black denim and leather jackets. The denim and leather gods. Two. Of them. Out of three. Tyrano…

Kelly in a hoodie gripping a shotgun, blonde hair cut short. Looks like a rockstar chick she’s the Marilyn Monroe from a trailer park. Therez one in every bad place. A superheroine matriarch. Thatz Hawkgirl level brave and has some scars on her dang heart. But itz all good tho… she can steady her storms.

Warda. Long red hair. beautiful. sacred. blue denim jeans. barefoot. always barefoot. earthing on the concrete. Like the rose that grew from it... her dazzling green eyes gleam like the cat Osiris on Friday the 13th. Scarlitrose can feel everything and see it all but itz like shez in a living dream and merely a watcher of the myth as it uses her as a vehicle to propel it forward. As Messiah. No longer washed in the blood of the sin of Merlin’s betrayal. She became one with Evelyn Eve now. Thatz how it all had to be.

Petra looks up and takes notice of a girl in a skull tee standing in a window. The girl iz her. But itz her, as a human. Not yet undead. Not yet a blood sucker… before she was a fanged one. Before the invasion of the cat people… from Planet 9. It waz Golgotha now since that fucking shit… Badblood.

The wolf man of the wasteland has Anubis out. Brandishing the silver bullet spittin’ pistol like itz hungry to feast. He grips it, aiming into the darkness. He just picked up those satyrs on his radar. Blast! Blast! He headshots two. Like three run off.

“Fuck this place. I already hate it here.” Dumas tells Petra. Shez in a trance iznt even listening. “You Petra?” He says crying out concerned. Then he rushes to her grabbing her arms caringly but keeping the big ass hand canon revolver gripped in one hand as he does it. She snaps out of it.

“I’m okay.” She thinks. I’m fine… thatz not me… anymore. The ghosts here are powerful. This sure ain’t Scooby Doo. Itz more like the Goosebumps is on drugs.

Petra Lovecraft appears beside Petra. Leather jacket and choker. Eyes like dark black voids. Bek shit. She leans in close to her ear, and says, “The Badblood might get you.” A cryptic riddle like a child’s laugh. But evil and snarky like a real bitch from hell… a ghost of the past. Petra’s psychic powers are making her see all types of horrors and fucked up crime scenes that happened here. Lots of mortals come here to do evil shit. And thatz why the monsters in Golgotha bring they asses out here. Gilgamesh is the last fallen earth. Deko-apocalypse terrors.

…. we realize the laundromat is a cathedral now. Built on blood and broken dryers. The door creaks open. The Boogeyman is inside. Waiting. Watching. Feeding on the memory of the girl Petra used to be.

They walk in. “Where you think Tyrano at?” Dumas asks Petra. Checking his gun to make sure its locked and loaded. As if itz not, in his hands. He cocks the hammer and uncocks it. Just to cock it again on repeat like he got a nervous tick or some shit. One for putting bullet holes in bodies.

Kelly nudges Petra’s arm. “Itz okay soul sister. We’re good. We got each other.” She says to her. Then she looks over at Warda. She has her big ass black flamed necrosword in one hand, she is strong. Carries the weight of her myth. Like the cross upon her back. She gets a flash of black flames all around her. Then she sees a dark reflection shard in her cosmic mirror. She has black hair and face tats… arm sleeves. Sigils all over her body. I look good with fuckin’ black hair… Scarlitrose giggles. Warda is still in control. Scarlitrose is not the one that should be driving in Gilgamesh. But Scarlitrose is starting to feel the veil lift and she can actually almost move her fingers even as Warda is in control. The possession seems to be bleeding into an acceptance. She doesn’t cut her hair anymore, and she ditched the glasses she can just see now. Warda has empowered her. The line that, blurs between them is hardly even existent anymore but for her deep subconscious mind.

The blood rites altar constructed of old dryers stacked up like ziggurats is giving off a creepy vibe. Like living static. You can almost hear how electrical charge is making the lights flash in the neon shadows dripping behind the pulp. A familiar face comes to the ghost shrine. Grinning in the dark. Behind all the dryers in the laundromats, and game machines in arcades. The living shadow in the darkness. This place is the dominion of a powerful ultimate monster canon. That of the Boogeyman himself. Golgotha is now the bridge to truth. Bleeding out genre and killing the gatekeeper complex that keeps us out of sacred spaces like this one. Mythic meditation in progress on the very page.

Warda begins to growl. Like a real beats. The beast of beauty. The werewolf power in the necrosword gives her serking ability without having to transform itno a monstroid freak. She stays beautiful but grows into a berserker like Guts from Berserk. A woman version… not Casca. She is fuckin’ Guts. Bro.

Dumas fires Anubis clapping the creeps crawling out of the darkness. Weird ones. They have patch work skin like sewn up stuffed animals from beyond the grave like dead zombies. Monstered mutated into a-similar minions of the boogeyman in mass. An army of the suckers. Too many…

They all start running but Warda is wanting to stay and fight. To the death. Petra grabs one arm at the elbow and Kelly the other. They drag her off against the war goddesses wishes. Dumas clapping all the way makin’ the silver bullet spittin’ pistol go blap blap. Like an orchestra from the gunfire. Guy is like Wolverine from X-Men foreal. Mixed with Kenpachi Zaraki from Bleach but a pulp-man werewolf king. Gunslinger with a fat ass revolver. Guns get shit fuckin’ done.

The oogies are moving all weird making weird noises as they pursue running hella fast. Not slow moving ghouls. Scary ass monsters. Like a guy in a mask running in a closed mall at midnight doing tongue noises like a freak chasing you through a fast food kitchen gripping a knife in his hand. Freaky shit. That straight up Hitchcockian terror shit. Murderous antics.

The monsters chase the monsters down the street. They find a church and one door is open. They slam the mutherfucker closed. This is one of those brick tower churches it all seals up every door like a fortress. They are all hard metal built like a vault. Long as nothing else got in here before them should be fine, maybe. But sure as a hell better off in here than, out there. Dumas knew it was too many you lose warriors in a showdown like that. Better not to risk it.

THE BOOGEYMAN ARC HAS BEGIN. IN GILGAMESH. BUT STILL, GOLGOTHA.