October; Myth.

Rain pours down like lead on on an alley in a bad part of town in New York City. Its October 23, 1984; the big clock outside Rod's pawn shop reads 2:19 a.m., the time for whores and junkies to fall in love; to fuck in the cold streets; to look in the others eyes and for one second get a glimpse of the myth called Love.1

And so on this cold October night in the streets of New York City we find our whore. One such whore who is wearing a red skirt, long enough to cover herself from a police officer waving 'indecent exposure' across her tear stained eyes. Fishnets engulf her pale legs, engulf the eyes of even the purest priest in town. She waltzes down the streets with a poisonous swagger that could have been bared only be Jesus. Yes, even the angels would fall into lust for this certain prostitute. 2

Sitting in the night with back to the wall is our dearest junkie. He's waiting for his angel, his savior, his needle, his eyes. He wears the city-torn jeans, so often seen amongst his species, and a ratty shirt with a jacket. He keeps his fingers moving, his left arm twitching in nervous anticipation. 3

Her name is Persephone, but when you're thrusting yourself inside her for twenty dollars its whatever you want to call her.....which is usually Bitch or Slut or Cunt or Whore or (if hes a nice man) Nothing; but never Persephone. She stands on the corner with a cheap seduction feeding off the night. A man approaches her: white, big nose, bald, gold watch, wedding ring, suit and tie, twenty dollars, a dick for a brain. Minutes later he slaps her across the face. Commands her to moan louder, to bleed harder, to cry softer. 4

Two streets over, Achilles sees a dark figure approaching him wearing a large, white coat. He wore a halo dripping with deceit. He walked over to Achilles and asked, "Jim, fifty dollars...don't worry its well worth the price. You'll die when you shoot it." Jim was Achilles' identity out here on the cold October streets. He frantically counted out forty dollars. "Nyx, man, all I can give is forty...I haven't had work in awhile.....5

-"No shit, Jim. You blow all your money on this shit. But don't worry, your lack of work is what keeps money in my pocket."6

"Please, Nyx, I swear I'll pay it all back. Deal?"7

The dealer grins with disgust and snatches the money from Achilles' hand. He reaches back and backhands Achilles with all his strength then throws the smack at his face. As he walks away he looks out for a whore worth the money.8

Persephone lies in pain as the man gets dressed. Her face has a fresh cut on it from his sick, sadistic ravaging of her beautiful body.9

He walks over and throws ten dollars down to her.10

"Eh...it could've been better," he says then licks her face. He walks through the door, whistling a perky song. Persephone gets dressed and heads out of the room, down the stairs reeking of vomit and death, and into the streets, cold with October and dead with people. She ducks her head into the nearest trash can and vomits. The things she just had to do running through her head. More thoughts came, more vomit came. She collects herself and starts off down the streets. She now wishes she had something warmer on...business was closed for the night after that last man. She walks down the dark streets in search of something- something real- something besides bad luck.11

Achilles plunges a needle into his left arm. He pushes the plunger down with a sad calm. For a minute he is warm, he is dead, he is no longer in pain, he is happy, he is breathing, he is sleeping, he is lost in the dark. He is looking for it, too. For a reality he only heard about on television. The poets wrote about it, but he could never find it. 12

And so Persephone heads down this particular alley, trying to escape footsteps behind her that wouldn't go away. Rape meant no money, and they usually beat her a lot worse. As she walked it began to rain.  It poured down like lead upon her pale, cold body. She was without a bed tonight. She didn't care. She happened upon a young man, hunched over, the rain beating him into submission. She walked up to him and sat down next to him. The beads of water rolled of his face into uncertainty as he looked up at her. 13

"You alright?," Persephone asked him.14

"Nah," Achilles answered, "I've run out of sugar and now I'm cold."15

"Sugar, baby? That stuff'll kill you," Persephone liked his eyes.16

"I wish I could save up for enough to take me off these streets; to soar up into the clouds with wings and a harp. My mother always told me thats how it would be like," Jim began to slip into her eyes,"She would tell me that at the very end things would be great...like a dream or something."17

They had been sitting in the rain for an hour now; silent like the lamb before slaughter.18

"Anyways, I'm called Jim and I really hope you're not going to charge me for your company," Achilles never trusted whores...with good reason.19

"Of course theres no charge, Jim," she began,"I'm called Whore. You have pretty eyes, Jim....just like the Greeks."20

The raindrops glistened in Achilles' black hair as an innocent smile crawled over his face. They continued to tell each other their stories: Jim, high school dropout who wanted to do nothing but write pretty poems and buy his mother white roses; Whore, the girl whose father hit her night after night, doing things to her that made the skies cry in pain until one day she shot him in the head and took to the streets, her body being her only means of income. The were both looking for it: the myth that surrounded everything in that city -that cemetery. The myth they had both heard so much that it seemed just like any other lie of childhood- like Santa Claus or maybe even God; the myth people had a name for, but no proof of its existence.21

The Whore and the Junkie became invisible in the night. They were alone in their own place, their own time, where no one else could venture. Finally Achilles felt compelled to tell her,"Whore, my friend, you are...beautiful."22

Persephone's eyes showed tears. 23

"Please Jim...call me by my real name: Persephone."24

"And you, you call me by my name as well: Achilles."25

"Achilles, we were born to die, but I can't help but feel as if theres still something sulking around these black streets that we're supposed to find before we go..."26

"Persephone, you have beautiful eyes."27

"Kiss me."28

And in that instant, every chemical to ever enter Achilles blood was washed away; every asshole to ever rape Persephone was forgotten. They kissed in the night. They kissed in the cold rain, alone in their black prison. They were looking for the same thing.29

They sat alone in the night, hidden by sin's fog.30

They kissed and held each other out in the cold,31

Each with nothing, with nothing but fear.32

They stared into each others eyes.33

They stared into heaven.34

They found what they were looking for.35

Love was a myth, they were a myth.36

October was a myth that night in New York.37

And so they died there in the cold.38

Each in the others arms. Each still staring into the others eyes.39

They stopped breathing, stopped living.40

They escaped from the cold, into something better.41

Kiss me, the night moans with hate.42

The next morning they were found by a couple of blacks who stripped Achilles' and Persephone's bodies of their clothes, looking for money. They put the two bodies in the sewer where they would lay in sickening decay until the rats had finished them off.43