Erato’s Misadventures: The Tragedy of Erato: A Monologue

I suppose it’s like sex on the beach – better in theory than in practice unless you’re well prepared or you really, really like sand. Maybe a cell would be sexier if the bed was softer and the heating worked.

‘Twas on a darkened night this tale began,
Misfortune piled on luck that turned to ill,
None knew what fate would fall within night’s span,
When those about would free their secret will.

Erato set a foot upon the street,
And strode through night – and sought to clear his head,
He little knew: he left a trail of heat,
Impassioned words, and deeds, entwined in beds.

The muse could not be bound in mortal coil,
An o’erflowing vessel: leak it must;
Power swelled as if ’twas on the boil,
And all about him reached tendrils of lust,

For every mortal (and immortal) near,
Felt stirrings deep within them start to rise;
Felt passion rise and free each from their fear,
Felt hearts begin to beat: and loins to drive.

Erato slowly turned, he saw the signs,
Beneath a lamp, two strangers’ bodies ground,A
Upon the grass, a dance in ancient time,
And all about him passion’s primal sounds.

He walked, his steps were filled with an unease,
He started to suspect he was to blame,
Before him men and women on their knees,
They worshiped each, the other, all the same.

And now the hands, the eyes, they reached for him,
And drew him down into the welcome flesh
As bodies joined and indulged each whim
As bodies writhed and gave with each caress.

And after time he tried to pull away
But passion’s hands and thighs would hold him near
And now he struggled hard to flee the fray,
And felt the sudden frisson that was fear.

For then he saw the ending – if he stayed,
For mortals who this inspiration filled,
For passion’d burn until their bodies frayed,
Until they fell, and their passion was stilled.

And so he fled (though from himself, in truth)
And with himself he stayed (as we are wont)
About him bloomed the blind desire of youth
And all about him lapped from passion’s fount.

Down alleyways and lanes he fled unseen
And turned and turned about, he knew not where
His power reached each nearby mind and dream,
And to Olympus came, all unaware

Through unobtrusive door, and up the stair,
For him this building held no bar or locks,
He sought to hide away his lust and care,
And through another door: And into Nox.

T’would take too long to tell, in all detail,
In such a place, his passion was welcome,
His power filled the air: mortals inhaled,
And bodies joined with bodies all in one.

And so Erato lost the will to fight,
Beneath the scattered clothes and lusty hands,
He breathed, released his passion for this night,
And bent instead to please woman and man.

There is no vice or crevice unexplored,
When bodies melt and will drives each the same,
Desire’s height: It has us overawed,
(Then someone called the Police to complain)

And so this night, as all good things, must end,
Fate is but fate, and none against should rail,
I leave you, audience, you faithful friend,
The end of the beginning of my tale.


Of course, it SOUNDS good. I mean, everything in verse does. So heroic. *cough*

On the other hand, I may be in some trouble. At least, some of the police say so, and apparently they would know.

Then again, they seem to be having a great deal of trouble finding anyone who is complaining of anything specific. So there’s that. Here’s hoping that’s positive. 

It turns out that being caught in the middle of a nightclub stark naked and fucking half a dozen people is considered lewd and indecent conduct. And that, they tell me, is a crime.

I ask you, who writes these laws? Anyway, you learn something new every day.

Being mortal is complicated. I’m also reconsidering some of those inspirations about being locked up. So far, it hasn’t been sexy. I suppose it’s like sex on the beach – better in theory than in practice unless you’re well prepared or you really, really like sand. Maybe a cell would be sexier if the bed was softer and the heating worked. Also, not being in a cell by myself. For some reason they didn’t want me in the general holding cell, or at least not after five minutes. They also found me pants, but they’re orange. It’s not my colour.

I’m also fairly sure Urania called me at some point, but my phone is either on the floor at Nox or in an evidence bag. I don’t know how to use it properly anyway. I might have mentioned technology isn’t my thing. Honestly I don’t know who I might have run into tonight, and I have a bad feeling about it.

Also, while everyone in the building now had pants on, there was definitely still an odd feeling in the air. I really need to get this thing under control. 

That’s when Auntie Demeter showed up. And she didn’t look all that happy.

Erato (The Poet)
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