GOLGOTHA - 7: THE BLACK ROSE

Warda gets her dark mode.

Dumas is now seated in a pew. Petra is lying down on the one behind him like itz a real coffin. Kelly is reading a bible she found. The last one left. Warda is practically climbing the walls. If she duznt get to cut something soon… she may have to go touch herself instead. To release the tension. Itz too much ache.

Dumas sits with his head leaned forward, arms resting on his knees, Anubis dangling from his hand like he’s letting it dream. The pew creaks under him, but he don’t move. He’s finally still. But not calm. He’s listening for footsteps in the void.

Petra is lying down, cigarette dangling as she is smoking, the smoke swirling like a halo of rot. Kelly turns another page in the last bible left. Her shotgun leans beside her like a priest’s staff. She reads without her lips moving but her eyes gleam like she sees the truth in the neon pictures. Lighting up the pulp from across the shadows. I just wanna see you…

Warda? Warda is losing it. She’s pacing the altar like a feral choir girl turned cult knight. Breathing through her teeth. Eyes gleaming. Fingernails twitching like claws about to burst out her skin.

“If I don’t get to cut something soon,” she mutters to no one, “I’m gonna have to touch myself just to release the tension.” Her face is a mask of seething need to have herself experience ritual combat. I need to blade fuck something. She thinks.

Dumas grunts. “Go ahead. Maybe Petra’s into it.” He laughs. Kelly looks shocked, in disgust. She stays quiet. Dumas looks over at her, and goes, “Sorry kid. I’m a bad influence.” Then walks off to saunter. Feeling bad for talking like they’re still in the Goth in front of Kelly. She’s no monster like us…

The skull sigil on Warda’s hand starts glowing. But it duzn’t call the necrosword. It drips like black ink. Black petals fall from it. formed by the drips. they burn in black flames… smoking. Each one curls into little guffs of smoke from burning roses… as she feels a veil fall over her and the cold feeling sets in. The darkness is creeping in now.

“Warda.” Kelly rushes over and grabs her bare arm. The flannel was torn off long ago in her freak out, meltdown. Itz on the floor like a thrown away cherished relic. It iz 1. Then a gnasty greenish brown colored hand like a potato sack for skin grabs it pulling it into the black ink in the pulp. Unseen.

The veil bleeds over in her perception of reality and she sees black rose pouring out of the pulp like rain. Falling from the ceiling and landing around everyone’s feet. She can see them. “Itz raining black roses.” She says to Kelly.

“What is she talking about?” Kelly shrieks. Looking to Petra for support. Petra rises from her pew like the night has risen in the sky. Cigarette dangling from her lip lit, as she keeps smoking it. She turns her head, “They’re coming.” She states.

Dumas clicks his hammer on the pistol. Smiling like a little kid got a new action figure on his birthday. “Time to get shit cracking then!” He says and gets up just as the doors on the church start banging hard from the outside. The oogies are breaking the doors off this mf.

The black roses begin to burn as a tornado from the black flame surrounds Warda in itz embrace. Kelly is snatched back by Dumas lightly. Gently. He barely touches her and wishes he hadn’t had to. His hands are too dirty to ever touch such purity as this girl. But the black flames got too close. She was right there.

Petra can feel the black flames too. Her sigil on the back of her hand glows. Identical as Warda’s own. The black flames grow from her hand. Symbolizing the return of her own spirit of the Black Flame Curse. She cherishes the sacred flame in her hand like holding a burning fireball. Playing with it.

Warda’s hair changes becoming black as a raven. Her fingernails manifest black paint on them. Ink from the pulp. In her hands. The sword is burning with black flames but they don’t burn her. Sigil markings like tattoos cover her skin, and arms, and face… she looks like a damn freaking rapper. Etchings from the immense inked all over her body in mass. She has become the scripture itself.

Kelly looks on in awe. Holding her shotgun slack in her arms. Warda has reached her dark mode. The Black Rose.

Warda, form 2 - the Black Rose. Shadowed flames from the necrosword Euronymos…

RAGE RED SUMMER.