Something arrived in the mail today. It bears the same generic, fake return address as the previous letter.
This one contained three things: an elegant flyer, an old newspaper clipping and a small burlap pouch.
Immediately, the words on the flyer leaped out at me: The King in Yellow. Once again, another delivery from the same anonymous source. Just as my mind had resettled back into its previous routine and I had nearly forgotten about the blasted play, this falls into my lap. Mockingly, it pulled at my curiosity.
The newspaper clipping is very well preserved: obviously from a meticulous archivist. Whomever is sending me these things cares deeply about the subject matter.
The excerpt is that of a theater critic witnessing the delivery of flyers for the play. The language is old fashioned and authentic. Even with my erudition, several words were strange and foreign to me.
The burlap pouch… my fingers trembled as I undid the string. I debated for a while whether or not to actually see what was contained therein. What was happening to me? What horrors would I unleash down this rabbit hole?
The pendant fell heavily into my hand. The symbol was of a yellow ocher and mysteriously occult. It reminded me of the runes of the Demons of Goetia. What is this sign? What is its significance? Why is it burned into my mind, my soul? I was overwhelmed by a blend of dread and excitement.
On the flip side is another symbol. I get visions: tentacles reaching out to me from the void and canals on a strange planet: a world shrouded in unholy cosmic nebulae. Is it… Carcosa?
I feel compelled to don the amulet. Instead I put it away, disgusted with such a blasphemous compulsion. However, as I arrive at work, I find that the pendant hangs about my neck. How did it get there? I don’t remember putting it on?
What is happening to me?