Join My Cult - Original Falcon Press

and atop this labyrinth stood the statue of a man, bearing the perfect
Renaissance proportions, with a crown perched atop his head. And as the
dream unfolded itself, the statue spoke seeming nonsense: I are father
and son still woman, who Came in by the gates of time protected by
ABRAXAS wrongly called Cerberus who carries himself as OsirisHorus
the bull of his own father. I am pulled by sun and moon and in them both
in the morning— We were designated as a man— We are lined up on the
cross of the shub shubby the TUB tubby Niggaruth. We the heart beating
in the play of Bacchus and to Bacchus rejoicing, the lionhead returned
again by Mrs. devoured, in order to insert the head into its correct place.
He awoke from the dream to a burning sensation. Eyes slowly opening,
he saw the rough surface of asphalt beneath him, black agony
against the raw flesh of his face. With a moan, he sat up and took in his
surroundings.
A long road stretched in both directions, slick from a recent rainfall.
The twisted branches of trees threatened to overtake and consume it.
Upon closer inspection, he could see that the road was in ill repair, the
yellow traffic lines were faded almost beyond recognition and the edges
were cracked and crumbling.
Through the silhouette canopy of trees he could see a violet sky. The
smell of earth and rotting leaves reminded him of autumn. Something
about this place was familiar, unsettlingly so. Like a memory shoved
deep into the far recesses of the mind, it comes back to haunt in dreams
and when the walls cave down… Or when you leave them.
Orpheus started walking down the road. Houses jutted out of the mass
of trees and brambles, all abandoned, a mess of rotting boards, shattered
windows and scuttling rats. The silence that hung over this place was
liquid and contagious, a foul liquor that clung to everything it touched.
Still he walked on.
To his left, he could see the trees thinning out into a wide field. Turning
to it, he was relieved to feel the moist soil underfoot. Then, further
off in the field, he saw a twisted metal form, bright yellow in some
places and rust red in others.
The bus stood like a fossilized dinosaur in a museum. The windows
were cracked and broken, the paint worn thin, the tires slashed and
empty; all of this was reflected in the wide field that this artifact had
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