The alley behind the Acheron Lounge was dark. The single bulb hung over an old beaten metal door set in the dirty brick wall made the dark seem deeper, more impenetrable. It swung in a breeze below a large, dented shade and cast constantly changing shadows down the length of the alley. The shifting light made the graffiti dance as if alive, made the garbage bins morph as the shadows played over the surfaces, turning them from ordinary to sinister. At the other end, past the old brick building, was the Acheron.