Imperative, The Call of the King

Imperative, The Call of the King

Stroll through the library, like you always do. Caress the aged spines of books that hold more wisdom than the human race could ever hope to amass. Listen to the whispers, guiding you, “Left, Right, Come to us, Left again, Knowledge will be yours.” Feel your blood pumping, knowing that unfathomable secrets await. Stop that.

Remember your discovery of this place, a library spanning the stars, tapping into everything ever thought, ever done, ever hoped. Remember your joy at seeing the Lake, a lake of air and mist and secrets. Stop that. Walk now, hurry, the secrets are calling.

Of course, turn right again. Ignore your thirst and hunger, for more meaningful satiation awaits you. Stop that. Salivate at the thought of the power the secrets will give. Wonder at their depth, breadth and scope.

Lean against the bookcases next to you, catch your breath. Stop that. Look over their titles and wonder how glorious the places they describe are, Carcosa on the banks of that other lake, Etur the forbidden place, such wonders and glories. Once again, caress their spines and walk. Ignore the dimming lights.

STOP THAT. Recall the whispers that led you here, “Beneath the Yellow Sign” over and over in your head. Look at the sign, it blurs and dances. Focus. Lurk at the Threshold.

Cross the chaos, crawl if you have to, its waiting, its calling. No excuses now, just because up is left and down is in, and STOPTHAT. Breathe, hyperventilate, its all the same, but being swept beneath your anticipation is quite unacceptable. There, cross yourself beneath the sign and enter. Gaze in awe at your find, know that its here in this room, what you've been searching for.

Stride the ten paces square, repeatedly, relentlessly. Listen to their pulse and rhythm, they're telling you something “Flee, Flee and keep what little you have left.” Forget them, they're wrong anyways, liars and thieves all. stop that. Whimper as the blood from your chewed lip is dripping down your robes.

Turn and grab a book at random, the lights brighten just enough for your eyes to burn as the letters twist and turn into your flesh. Look at your arms, the burns fade leaving only anticipation. Grab another book, look at blank pages and stop that. Get some elbow room now, its going to be a long night. Hunker down in this fortress of knowledge.

Stop that. Wait for inspiration to strike. Give into hunger and eat the squirming creature in your sack. Remember, it must be alive, dead flesh is forbidden. Stave off the panic with more books, one after another.

Watch the stars turn over head, the sign is here, you know it is. Recall the words, the promises of the thousand Young. Despair is near, keep it at bay with your righteousness. Recall the words, the promise, the prophecy. Turn to the man in the pallid mask and tell him to STOP THAT.

Realize what he is holding. Take it from his hands. Open to the second act. Read the longed for words. Read the King in Yellow.