; ; It was dark, so dark that the contrast of bright afternoon daylight ; and black inky depths shocked me for a moment. I stumbled in, and as ; my eyes adjusted to the dusky interior, I saw the bartender. He had a ; cigar-no, that would be too much of an honor for that plug of tobacco ; protruding from his lips-this guy had a stogey firmly planted in his ; kisser. He reminded me of a character out of some 1940s movie.
; ; The place seemed empty. I politely asked to use the restroom, and was ; directed to the back of the bar, where I found myself urinating into ; the filthiest dankest toilet I had ever encountered. The porcelain, or ; what I could make out in the dim grimy light, seemed covered in fine ; spidery lines, and the color was no longer (if it ever was) white.
; ; "That's some antique you got for a bathroom," I said.
; ; "Whassamatter, mac? Not good enough for your piss?"
; ; There were a few chuckles, and I realized that there were about three ; or four others in the bar.
; ; "Say Pete," one of them said to the bartender, "wasn't you gonna fix ; it up for Princess Diana?"
; ; "That's right," he replied, she was gonna stop by for a visit, but she ; never made it." Titters at this. "So's ok mac, fun's over, ya want ; somethin' or what?"
; ; I could not escape the feeling that this was all some sort of a ; joke. Or maybe I had stepped into a Twilight Zone episode.
; ; "Sure, I'll have a beer," and I slid into a stool and leaned on the ; bar. I couldn't make out much but that everything was covered in grime ; and dust. I took a sip of my beer, praying the glass had at least been ; wiped once over the past twenty years.
; ; "Not a bad little place, eh?"
; ; I turned to my left. The speaker was a rather nondescript gentleman, ; wearing a worn sweater, from which the collar of a frayed blue shirt ; showed, dark dress pants, and a battered fedora, pulled low over his ; face; his voice had an mellifluous educated tone that seemed out of ; place here. Also, there was something about his skin that seemed odd, ; but in the gloom of the place I couldn't quite make out what was ; disturbing me.
; ; "Yes, I like this bar," he continued, not waiting for a reply. "Suits ; Coney, and Coney suits it." He knocked back a shot, gestured for ; another. "'Course, Coney's not what it used to be, and it hasn't been ; what it used to be for some time now. But I miss what was left, little ; pieces of a grander time. Used to be an old ghost mural; that was on a ; wall near the Spookarama ride; that wall's whitewashed now. And the ; Spookarama ride is half torn away and-Well, why bother? I could tell ; you about the old baths, the Thunderbolt, and a ride that used to jerk ; you at such hard right angles that'd leave you black and blue; all ; gone now, and what the hell. I'm beginning to sound like some old ; fool, babbling about 'you kids today' and 'when I was your age' and ; who needs that?," he sighed.
; ; "Awww, jeez, leave the guy alone," the bartender said. "Believe me, ; pal, it's Bellevue and a padded cell for this one. The things he tells ; people!"
; ; I smiled weakly and replied, "Oh, I don't mind." In fact, in the ; shadow of desolate Coney in the late-afternoon gloom of this bar, it ; seemed natural, even neighborly, to listen to him.
; ; The bartender shook his head. "I warned you! Don't say I didn't!"
; ; The man to my left beamed at me.
; ; "Proper introductions then! Call me Tom."
; ; "William," I replied, and he extended his hand. When I grasped his, I ; shuddered, for his hand was clammy and unnaturally cold. I looked at ; it, and it appeared to be dead white. I now realized why I had found ; his skin odd; for as my eyes adjusted to the gloom, I could see that ; all of his skin had the same creepy lack of color. Jesus, I thought, ; is this guy some sort of albino? Maybe he used to be a Coney ; attraction, and that's why he still hangs out, talking of the old ; days. But being a freak in a sideshow didn't quite jibe with the man's ; voice, which spoke of a more gentlemanly existence.
; ; "Glad to know you, William. You know, Coney's not the only place where ; you feel the past. All over New York there are still remnants of the ; old city, little reminders of what once was. Fading ads, painted on ; buildings, that advertise extinct products; cobble-stone streets that ; defy modern shock absorbers; old dark brick tenements that speak of ; different days and lives long gone-and ghosts, of course, lots of ; ghosts in a city like New York. You think not? Oh, you probably don't ; believe in the ectoplasmic realm, do you?
; ; "You see," he continued, again not waiting for a reply, "some ; buildings aren't meant to be lived in. It's like the rain forest. The ; more we blunder deep into it the greater chance we get of contracting ; weird viruses and fatal diseases because there are some places we ; aren't meant to go. Well, so with some buildings. They aren't meant ; for human habitation, but who's to tell some developer to leave ; certain things alone? If I were to tell you that a certain building on ; John Street should never be lived in, or that the devil knocks at ; midnight on the door of an apartment on Bedford Street, would you ; believe me?" He knocked down his shot, signalled for more.
; ; "Oh, but let's talk more of the old Coney, ahhh, let's talk of a place ; you'll never find written about in any history, guidebook, or ; travelogue." He knocked back another shot. "Oh, let us talk of the ; Statue in the Garden of Love."
; ; Okay, I thought, let's, but as I sat there rubbing my glass I began to ; think that maybe I should've taken the bartender's advice.
; ; "My friend, this was a statue that was rumored to have been discovered ; on an obscure Grecian isle, of an age incalculable," he began, and his ; tone reminded me of an educated version of a carny barker's spiel. "It ; was of a nude female figure, quite complete and lifesize. It was said ; to be an early representation of Aphrodite, the goddess of love, but ; others claimed it had a darker ancestry, and was from a time before ; the great gods of Olympus were born. Villagers would not approach it, ; and if they did, they'd spit and make signs, signs to ward off the ; devil. The man who brought it to America, Matthew Doxley, under, shall ; we say, not the most legal of procedures, ended his life in a ; sanitarium," and he smiled at me, and suddenly his smile struck me as ; vaguely sinister. "How the statue found its way to Coney is a mystery, ; but find its way it did, and in the 1920s along the Bowery at Luna ; Park, one Bernard Cooglan unveiled it for all the rubes willing to ; shell out for the privilege."
; ; He suddenly held his glass up to the light, examining it as if it were ; some fine jewel.
; ; "Well, at first, Cooglan's statue was a sensation! But certain rumors ; developed about it, stories of men hearing whispers as they walked ; around it, and swearing that it's eyes would suddenly glow, as if some ; demon were imprisoned within. It was even said that some men were ; driven mad by it, driven to take their own lives. Gradually, no one ; would enter the exhibit, and Cooglan himself fell to a bad end."
; ; "Sanitarium again?," I ventured.
; ; "Hardly that-Cooglan wandered out onto the beach one midnight, when ; the moon was of a pure white, and kept wandering, until the dark waves ; covered his feet, then his knees, then his shoulders, and finally his ; head. Then the bubbles stopped." He paused, then whispered into his ; glass, "The price of beauty," and suddenly fell silent.
; ; I ventured, after a few moments, "This must've been some statue."
; ; "Statue!," he snapped. "That word won't do, for a statue is dead and ; cold, and those who saw it, those who lived to tell of it, said the ; marble had a texture like skin! If you touched it, it seemed warm. It ; was claimed that some men, overcome by its beauty, would reach out to ; embrace it, to even kiss the marble lips, which were slightly parted, ; and seemed to dare one to approach."
; ; Well, I thought, this is certainly not the usual barfly story; I've ; got to give him points for originality. I figured I'd humor him a ; little while longer before heading home.
; ; "But what exactly did the statue look like?"
; ; "Ahhh, that's a curious thing-no one who saw it could clearly ; tell. Oh, they had the impression of being in the presence of ; unearthly beauty, but none could say, for example, if the hair be ; sculpted long or short, braided or straight; none could say if the ; eyes were round, or slanted; or if the arms were set on the hips or ; beckoning in front; all came 'way with different ideas. Artists tried ; to sketch it to no avail; and when a photograph was attempted, ; something would go wrong with the film, and the image would be naught ; but a white smudge when printed. The only details all agreed was that ; the eyes seemed alive, and that the lips beckoned."
; ; My beer was almost finished.
; ; "So, uhhh, what happened to it?"
; ; "It's still here, my friend, still here for those who dare to look," ; and now he turned on me a look that was quite sinister. As silly as it ; sounds, it made me nervous. I had taken this story for a pleasant bit ; of urban legend or carny myth; but this look spoke of something deep ; and buried, and, even, something real.
; ; "You see, after Cooglan died, his exhibit vanished over night, and ; another man, whose name I do not know, took the statue and installed ; it in the garden courtyard of a house not far from here. He named his ; courtyard 'The Garden of Love' and the statue was the centerpiece, the ; glowing centerpiece, of this garden. It was said he would stare at the ; statue all day, never daring to approach, but at night, when the moon ; was of a certain angle, and the light just right...," and he trailed ; off, looking into his glass again.
; ; Suddenly, the bartender interrupted.
; ; "Awww, go on and finish," he chuckled, "we're all adults here."
; ; "It was said he had knowledge of the statue, you understand? That ; under the glow of the moon, he would spend the night in its ; embrace. Sometimes he would be found in the morning, eyes wide open ; and barely alive, naked upon the grass."
; ; He stopped talking, and we sat in silence for awhile. I noticed my ; beer was done.
; ; "Jesus, that's some story. And what happened to this guy?"
; ; "That, young man, is another mystery among the mysteries. But the ; house still stands, and the statue still rules in that garden, if you ; dare to look." He pulled a scrap of paper from his pocket and with the ; stub of a pencil, scrawled an address. "Here, if you have a mind, is ; the address. But beware the moon, and the light in the eyes."
; ; I took the address and casually crumpled it into my fist, but I felt ; the same uneasiness I felt before. This had to be a bit of nonsense, a ; woozy tale spun to entertain the passing stranger, and yet I could not ; shake this feeling of strangeness that tickled the edges of my brain.
; ; "Tell me, have you seen this statue?"
; ; He turned abruptly and seemed to stare right through me, the whiteness ; of his skin making his visage all the more appalling.
; ; "Oh, indeed. I have seen the statue, and the moon, and the light. And ; I shall live out my days in the shadows, the shadows only." He ; continued to stare, then jerked around to the bar.
; ; "That's all you'll get outta him, mac, trust me," and I looked to see ; the bartender making the crazy sign. "I warned you, didn't I?"
; ; I shrugged, tossed a tip on that bar.
; ; "Well, I've got to be going. Tom, let me thank you for that story."
; ; He looked at me.
; ; "The moon will be right tonight, young man, the moon will be right ; tonight."
; ; What could I say to this, but: "Yeah, okay, well, goodnight all."
; ; I left the bar quickly and was glad to breathe the sea air; darkness ; had fallen and the moon was rising, a large full moon. I headed ; towards the subway, but I realized I had something in my fist-the ; paper! I opened my hand and stared at it. I don't know why, but I ; walked, almost unconsciously, in the direction of the address written ; there.
; ; It wasn't far, and it wasn't pleasant. It was a ruinous block, with ; burnt out houses competing with dilapidated tenements for the prize of ; most decayed structure, but there, stuck in the middle of this ; no-man's-land (for I passed no one and felt strangely free of the fear ; of being attacked-by a living being, anyway) was the house I ; sought. It must've been something in its day, but was now a riot of ; broken glass, rotting wood, and tall weeds. Here and there survived a ; bit of intact molding or bright paint that made the decay all the ; more grotesque. There was a fence in front, and someone had attempted ; to lock the gate, but the chain was as rotted as the rest, and I ; easily pushed it open. And then I stopped, for modern fears ; intruded. Couldn't this be the perfect hide-out for drug dealers? Or ; homeless people? Or any number of unsavory characters, for god's sake? ; I stood there, watching and listening. But all was silent; so silent, ; in fact, that the silence began to unnerve me. Nothing seemed to move ; in there, not hidden foe, or rat, or insect.
; ; As I continued to look around me, I discerned a sort of depression in ; the growth that seemed to denote a path. A breeze rustled the weeds, ; but it seemed as though only the weeds on the path moved. Another ; breeze, and I found myself slowly edging my way to the house itself, ; with that unconsciousness of intent that seemed to mark my whole ; journey here. The path weaved to the side and straight to the back, ; which was shrouded in darkness. I took a deep breath, and plunged ; in. As I approached, the darkness seemed to dissipate, and my eyes ; seemed to sense something luminous in the distance. I walked ; carefully, to avoid broken glass and nails and who knows what else ; that lurked on the ground, and occasionally I looked up to see the ; moon. It seemed unearthly white to me, and unusually large; and the ; light it cast on the side of the house made me shiver, for I had that ; feeling of being watched that sometimes afflicts us when we pass a ; derelict structure. But still I walked on, walking towards the ; luminescence that grew brighter with my every footfall. Suddenly, I ; was through the overgrowth and in the garden. My mouth dropped, and I ; froze with astonishment. For here there was no decay, or weeds, or ; rot. The garden was as it must've been, perfect and trimmed; and even ; in the chill of October flowers still bloomed in carefully arranged ; plots. And then my eyes fell upon-
; ; The statue!
; ; It was as described, but more, oh god, so much more. It glowed a hue ; that was sometimes a rich golden yellow, other times a sheer pure ; white. Was this some trick of the moonlight, or something more ; fantastic? I was transfixed, lost in the wonder of it. And as my eyes ; adjusted to the glow, I slowly began to see the statue, to make out ; its lines and curves and textures, and it was of a beauty that no ; living woman could ever possess. Yet, like the men described by Tom, I ; couldn't say for sure what form the statue was, only that it was of ; the deepest beauty, almost as if it were the very essence of beauty, ; distilled into solid marble, glowing and-beckoning. For as sure as I ; stood there, it called to me, through lips that were slightly ; parted. Not in language, no, not words, but through a feeling, a ; yearning that seemed to burn me.
; ; Suddenly, I desired that statue-desired to embrace it, to feel the ; hard marble upon my flesh, with a passion that embarrassed me in its ; ferocity. I wanted to press my lips against it, and kiss the dainty ; fingertips; I wanted to lick the curves of the breasts and suck on the ; hard, perfect nipples. I wanted to sink down and worship at its feet, ; kissing each sculpted toe, then prostrate myself and pledge my eternal ; worship before its eternal beauty. As I walked to the statue, I found ; myself removing my clothes. The cold didn't matter, nothing mattered ; but that I should have this beautiful object in my arms. As I ; approached the base, I found myself completely nude, and my organ was ; hard, harder than it ever could have been with a mere mortal; for was ; this not some goddess before me, some goddess whose rites I must now ; perform? I would consecrate my love before her!
; ; And I knelt down before her on one knee and began to masturbate, ; stroking myself with such fury that it seemed I would strip the skin ; off-but this rite I must perform, this frenzy was required of me. She ; must have my essence!
; ; Yet somewhere, even as I brought myself to climax, some small part of ; my brain remained sane; some voice inside urged me to run, run in ; peril of my mortal soul; but the sheer whiteness, the sheer whiteness ; made it impossible for me to obey my own instincts; and I climaxed ; upon the base of the statue, and I was lost to myself, and must obey ; this glorious beauty, glowing in the very fibers of my being. I bent ; where the sperm had fallen and began to rub it into the base, and my ; mouth sought blindly until I found myself gamahuching her, licking and ; sucking upon her finely sculpted private parts. The marble seemed to ; yield to my tongue; and I swear I felt my mouth close on the ; clitoris. My hands were gliding up her legs, smooth and muscular, and ; the perfect hardness of them only drove my desire. Every inch of her ; pubic area was glistening with my saliva, and I licked her with a deep ; longing rhythm. My hands were upon her ass cheeks now, caressing the ; crack, pushing into it, and as my tongue licked on and on, my eyes ; glanced upwards, and I saw her eyes, oh, those terrible eyes!
; ; They were a-fire with light, with that inner light that scared lesser ; men-but I must have that light, and the lips that beckoned, and slowly ; I inched myself up her body, my hands savoring every contour, every ; carefully sculpted muscle, while my lips never left her, and I ; continued to kiss and lick every gorgeous surface. When I came upon ; her hands, I tenderly kissed each tip, and licked along each finger, ; nuzzling my mouth in one palm, then another. I finally came to her ; breasts, which were of an unbridled perfection. I used my fingertips ; to tenderly caress the eternally sculpted globes, then used one finger ; from each hand to trace the outline of each delicately chiseled ; aureole. I gently played with the nipples, the marble hardness of ; which were indescribably thrilling, and I knew I must taste what milk ; might be sucked from their perfect points. My greedy mouth eagerly ; sought each breast, and I sucked with the intensity that a newborn ; must suck when hunger first overcomes it. With my teeth I grated the ; nipples gently, and as unyielding as they were, swore they became ; larger with my ministrations. I kissed each breast, licked each one ; completely, and thrilled to my wetness glistening on the perfect ; whiteness. I rubbed my face against them, tingling with desire as the ; nipples pushed into my cheeks.
; ; "Oh mistress, oh goddess," I murmured, over and over, until the words ; had no meaning to me. My lips pressed on, and I touched the ; indescribable neck, a swan's neck, the neck of the perfect ballerina, ; a neck that I gently, tenderly, kissed as my hands caressed the ; delicate curve of her back, the spinal bones gently sculpted into the ; wondrous marble. I was nibbling my beloved's ears now, whispering, ; babbling, I don't know what-and my eyes were suddenly caught by her ; eyes, her blazing unfathomable eyes, and they held me and filled me ; and commanded me. My body was completely pressed against hers, and ; indescribable thrills waved through me. My penis was savagely erect, ; aching and throbbing. Her eyes continued to hold me, and slowly, ; unbearably, my lips slowly approached hers, to that mouth that ; beckoned, to those sculpted lips half-parted with permanent desire. My ; eyes slowly shut, and our lips met. The earth shuddered, and our lips ; met. Time skipped, and our lips met. The universe spun, and our lips ; met.
; ; I was giving to her now, my deepest energy, my essence, my soul. For ; we kissed and kissed and kissed, a long unyielding kiss, and as we ; kissed, something passed from me to her, something real but as ; evanescent as my breath. I could feel a pure horror deep inside ; myself, for was it not the most primal fear of our race that the soul ; should not be defiled? That some things ought not to be touched? Yet ; yield my innermost being I must, for had I not consecrated myself to ; her? My body was now pressing hers tighter, my penis rubbing against ; her, rubbing with such a hot burning that I swore I was inside her, ; that my penis was actually in the marble, and the feeling drove me to ; thrust wildly while my lips continued to be held in that long ; supernatural kiss. I began to shake; my orgasm was only moments ; away. I thrust with deep strokes against her, and my tongue pushed ; wildly against her mouth. It felt like I was burning, like I was one ; with the unearthly glow that came from within the marble. My brain was ; boiling, I lost all reason and madly continued to thrust until I came, ; from deep within I came, an orgasm such as wild animals must feel, an ; orgasm of such dreadful intensity that my hairs stood on end and every ; nerve screamed and it seemed endless, this coming, it seemed I could ; never come enough for this unearthly thing that gripped me, but still ; I came and came, until all was white and hard and the moon and ; suddenly my lips were freed and I screamed, screamed from the very ; depths of my being, and felt myself flung upon the earth, where I ; collapsed, and all was quiet and mercifully black.
; ; I woke with a start. For a moment my head swam, filled with confused ; and blurry images; then the sun hit my eyes and I was snapped into ; awakeness. I was lying on the ground; I was naked; I was cold, god was ; I cold! My body ached, and my penis, my penis burned as if rubbed ; raw. I moved as if underwater. I clumsily grasped at my clothes, and ; saw that I was in a ruined courtyard of some sort, completely ; overgrown with hideous weeds and noxious plants. As I struggled to ; dress myself, fighting a tremendous weariness, I couldn't place how I ; got there. I remembered the bar, but I didn't remember getting ; drunk. Was I knocked out, mugged, and dragged here? No, my wallet ; seems intact. And my clothes-they seem to form a path, but to what? ; And this chill, it didn't seem that cold outside, but I couldn't seem ; to warm myself. I continued to collect my clothes, and then, through ; the deep weeds, I spied white, and the memory, the feeling, that had ; been clawing at the side of my brain broke through-in one searing ; instant I remembered everything. I froze, and as my eyes made out more ; of that whiteness hidden by the weeds, as I began to feel what was ; there, the terror broke and I ran.
; ; I ran blindly, stupidly, quickly. I blundered into things, I tripped ; and skidded, but I did not stop, did not stop till I recognized ; familiar things-Nathan's, the Shore Hotel, the Surf Hotel, even the ; disreputable denizens of off-season Coney were a comfort. I tried to ; run to the bar, but I couldn't seem to remember clearly where it ; was. In a panic I tried several different streets before giving up. I ; ran into the subway, and stumbled onto an F train. What few people ; there were stared at me. Some moved away. I didn't care. I didn't care ; about anything but getting away, away and back to my apartment on ; First Avenue. On the subway ride, I kept falling into ; semi-consciousness, but as my eyes closed, bits of memory would jolt ; me awake. Finally, my station was near.
; ; As I left the subway and made my way home, children stared at me ; wide-eyed and hugged their mothers; even the panhandlers avoided me. I ; clambered the three flights to my apartment, and with shaking hands ; unlocked the door. There I fell upon my bed and collapsed. I slept, ; and thank god it was that deep sleep that brings no dreams.
; ; When I awoke, I felt no better. I was still cold, and every inch of my ; body ached. I undressed, and decided a shower would do me good. I ; walked slowly to the bathroom, and happened to glance at myself in the ; mirror.
; ; I no longer visit Coney Island, off-season or on; and when the night ; comes I prefer to be safe at home; and on those nights when the moon ; is out, especially those nights when the moon is of an angle, I block ; every window, and sit shivering by the tv. And I know why children run ; and adults look down when I pass. For when I looked in the mirror, ; here's what I saw:
; ; My hair had turned completely white-the white of that unearthly ; moon. And my whole body was bloodless, the bloodless white of that ; pure marble, that pure leprous marble in the garden, but my face! It ; was white, as pure white as the rest! But-the horror of it! I had the ; skin of an old man, as if I had aged decades in one night. And that ; chill has never left me, my god it never will-I believe I'll take it ; to the grave. And the most dreadful thing of all-I still yearn for ; that touch, for that endless kiss, for that defiling all encompassing ; embrace. That too will never leave me.
; ; But now I can tell you a story, a story of the lost New York, the ; forgotten Coney. And of things that should stay buried, and of ; pleasures not worth having at any cost. And after hearing my tale, ; maybe I can scrawl an address for you, an address on a white piece of ; paper, as white as marble. And maybe you'll dare to visit, dare to ; visit on the night of a full moon, when the light is of an angle, and ; an ancient thing waits to take your soul for its own. ; ;