Israel Centeno

Coco Street – Ministry of Liberation

Today I stumbled upon a street that seems to exist and not exist at the same time, as if its presence depends on whether you’re brave—or foolish—enough to notice it. This part of Pittsburgh, forgotten by nearly everyone, has now claimed me. At first, I thought I found it by chance, but now I realize that wasn’t true. No, this was a calling, a corridor that opened between my parish and this place of shadows—Coco Street.

Walking through Downtown, you might think Pittsburgh’s no different from any other American city. The buildings are modest, the streets neat enough, and there’s that familiar sense of order imposed by the mayor, backed by a handful of churches that offer their charity to the homeless. But order here is a thin, brittle veneer. Beneath it, in the crooked geometry of this city’s star-like grid, Coco Street keeps its own, terrible secret.

The moment I crossed that invisible boundary, everything changed. The light grew heavy, thick, but it didn’t chase away the shadows. It’s as if time itself was stalling, or maybe here, time obeys rules different from ours. The air hung thick with something ancient, something not of this world. Every step I took felt like wading through a place where the laws of reality frayed at the edges. And it didn’t take long to find the lost souls here—enslaved by vices they couldn’t name, trapped by forces they couldn’t see.

Since my arrival, I’ve heard whispers of dark cults—worshippers of gods that predate humanity, creatures whose names no one dares to speak aloud. Some revere them, some cower in fear, but no one doubts their existence. I’ve spoken to other servants of God who feel it too: a Lutheran pastor, worn thin by years of struggle, and me, a friar just beginning to grasp the depth of this evil. But what chills me more than the cults, more than the decay, is the presence that haunts this place, just beyond sight, in the corner of your eye—the darkness that seems to wait, patiently, for its moment.

I don’t fully understand what’s happening here yet, but one thing’s clear: the battle we’re fighting isn’t against flesh and blood. This is a war against powers and principalities, as the apostle Paul warned us. Coco Street is a spiritual battleground, forgotten by man, but claimed by forces far darker than we’re willing to admit. And I, Franklyn, fragile and fallible as I am, have been called to bring the light of Christ to this forsaken place.

Today, it begins. I’ve established a corridor between my parish and this cursed street. It won’t be easy, but I have to set free those trapped by unspeakable vices, by the trafficking of souls that seems to have become business as usual here. All I can do is trust in Providence and face the looming presence of Coco, that unspeakable terror everyone mentions in hushed voices but can never describe.

My prayer is simple, but it burns inside me: Lord, let Your light pierce this darkness. Because I know only the light can scatter this ancient evil.