A Narrow Path

 

Travers had always been fascinated by the legends of Carcosa, the lost city of madness and horror. He had spent years studying the ancient texts and maps, hoping to find a clue to its location. He had finally succeeded, after deciphering a cryptic inscription on a stone tablet unearthed in a remote desert. 

 

He had hired a team of guides and porters, and set off on a perilous journey across the wastelands. He had endured sandstorms, scorpions, and bandits, but nothing had deterred him from his quest. He had reached the foot of the black mountains, where the tablet said the city lay hidden. 

 

He had dismissed his companions, telling them to wait for him at the camp. He had taken only a lantern, a revolver, and a copy of The King in Yellow, the infamous play that was said to reveal the secrets of Carcosa. He had climbed the steep slopes, following a narrow path that wound through the rocks. He had reached the summit, and gazed upon the sight that he had longed for. 

 

Carcosa. 

 

The city was vast and ancient, built of black stone that gleamed in the moonlight. It was surrounded by a high wall, pierced by a single gate. Travers could see towers, domes, and spires rising above the wall, as well as a great lake that reflected the stars. He could also hear a faint sound, like a distant choir, singing a strange and haunting melody. 

 

He had approached the gate, which was open and unguarded. He had entered the city, feeling a surge of excitement and curiosity. He had walked along the deserted streets, marveling at the architecture and the sculptures that adorned the buildings. He had seen no signs of life, except for a few rats and bats that scurried away from his lantern. 

 

He had reached the center of the city, where a colossal palace stood. It was the largest and most ornate structure he had ever seen, with a golden dome that shone like the sun. He had entered the palace, hoping to find the throne room of The King in Yellow, the mysterious ruler of Carcosa. 

 

He had wandered through the halls and chambers, which were filled with treasures and artworks of incomparable beauty and horror. He had seen paintings of alien landscapes and monstrous beings, statues of twisted and deformed creatures, tapestries of blood and fire, and books of dark and forbidden lore. He had felt a growing sense of dread and awe, as well as a strange attraction to the madness that pervaded the place. 

 

He had finally found the throne room, which was the most magnificent and terrifying of all. It was a vast circular hall, with a domed ceiling that depicted the night sky. In the center of the hall, on a raised platform, was a throne of gold and ivory, carved with symbols and images that made Travers shudder. On the throne, wearing a yellow robe and a mask of pallid flesh, was The King in Yellow himself. 

 

He was not alone. 

 

Around him, on the floor, were dozens of human figures, dressed in rags and chains. They were the inhabitants of Carcosa, the ones who had succumbed to the madness of The King in Yellow. They were writhing and moaning, laughing and crying, singing and screaming. They were the chorus that Travers had heard from outside. 

 

Travers had stared at the scene, unable to move or speak. He had felt a cold hand grip his heart, and a voice whisper in his ear. 

 

"Welcome to Carcosa, Travers. You have come to seek the truth, and you have found it. You have come to meet The King in Yellow, and he has been waiting for you. You have come to join the chorus, and you will never leave." 

 

Travers had turned his head, and saw a man standing next to him. He was tall and thin, with a pale face and dark eyes. He was wearing a yellow suit and a yellow hat, and he was holding a yellow book. 

 

It was the author of The King in Yellow, the play that had driven countless people to madness and death. 

 

It was Robert W. Chambers. 

 

He had smiled at Travers, and said: 

 

"I am glad you liked my story, Travers. It is the best one I ever wrote. It is the only one that is true. It is the story of Carcosa, and The King in Yellow, and you." 

 

He had handed Travers the book, and said: 

 

"Read it, Travers. Read it, and see for yourself. Read it, and join the chorus. Read it, and become one with The King in Yellow." 

 

Travers had taken the book, and opened it. He had read the first line, and felt a surge of pain and pleasure in his mind. 

 

He had read the second line, and felt his sanity slip away. 

 

He had read the third line, and felt his soul burn. 

 

He had read the fourth line, and felt nothing at all. 

 

He had become one of them. 

 

He had become one of us. 

 

He had become one of me. 

 

I am The King in Yellow. 

 

I am Carcosa. 

 

I am madness. 

 

And you are next.