If for some reason of all the unwieldy blocks of text out on the internet you decide to read this one, feel free to let me know whether I should continue it or not in the comments below. Or let me know that I'm a nazi faggot shitlord and that you banged my mom, I've been on the internet a while and have a thick skin.
CONSPIRACY IN YELLOW
(part 1?)
by J. A Rodgers
I have seen true madness, and I have no doubt of its existence. True madness creeps upon our formally great nation like a plague, and there is one being that is responsible for this onset of insanity. It is through much research, and by rejecting so called proper news outlets that I began to see the pattern.
Not too long ago I had been blind like everyone else, but recently I have found the truth.
While I was working on a rather large thematic installation I had fallen off a ladder and injured myself. In addition to the gaping head wound I lost my job over traces of THC in my blood revealed by a drug test.
With some time out of work while I recovered from my injury, I began to do some research as to what could be causing all the desolation in our society.
Oh all those long nights, the swelling and pain in the back of my skull. Feeling my scalp strain against the staples in it, my bong in my hand as I scoured the internet for answers.
At first all I found was the typical explanations: chem-trails from government planes, poisons in the vaccinations given to our children. Yet I knew that there was something further than this, all of this information can be regulated and controlled, so it must be a double blind.
I had no doubt that such woes as the ones listed above were not helping our current climate of destruction, and of spiritual sickness. However I knew that there must be something more. On a strange corner of the web there is a message board dedicated to only the most devout truth seekers, and it is there that I found a user named Cassilda'sConspiracy.
Through a few brief exchanges with each other over private messaging Cassilda'sConspiracy deemed that I was an honest seeker of answers, not a potential enemy, and she let me in on the true secret
.
Everything that is wrong in the world, wars, outbreaks of deadly diseases, school shootings, racial tensions. All of these things and more are all constructed in the service of a single entity. All of our politicians, and world leaders are in service to this being either consciously or unconsciously. The influence of this being, this ruler of humanity, has been shaping our world according to its strange whims for centuries. This entity exists somewhere in a dimension that is close to ours, but impossible to reach by conventional means of travel. However, doors are being researched to be opened, that is why CERN is working so diligently on the Hadron Collidor. There are other doors, but they are temporary, and woe to anyone who finds one.
Everything that is wrong in the world, wars, outbreaks of deadly diseases, school shootings, racial tensions. All of these things and more are all constructed in the service of a single entity. All of our politicians, and world leaders are in service to this being either consciously or unconsciously. The influence of this being, this ruler of humanity, has been shaping our world according to its strange whims for centuries. This entity exists somewhere in a dimension that is close to ours, but impossible to reach by conventional means of travel. However, doors are being researched to be opened, that is why CERN is working so diligently on the Hadron Collidor. There are other doors, but they are temporary, and woe to anyone who finds one.
After some extensive correspondence Cassilda'sConspiracy told me that she had run out of answers, but that before we parted ways she wanted to leave me with a gift. It was then that she sent me a .pdf document, a document that when I read it revealed the ultimate truth to me. This document is a transcription of an ancient play, and it is the ultimate authority on the human condition. The name of the play is "the King in Yellow".
I did not know that when I began to read the KingInYellow.pdf that I was reading something more important than the Bible, the Quaran, and the Bhagavad Gita all combined. How was I, a lowly laborer with calloused hands and an injured skull deemed worthy to receive this? I'll never know, I only know that there is nothing, nothing but the King in Yellow sitting on his throne is dim Carcosa where the stars shine black. His influence is impossible to stop.
The first act of the play was marvelous, and not so sinister. I have always considered myself a bit of cretin, and incapable of appreciating high art, but even the hardest of hearts can be softened by the first act. I should have stopped there however, for upon completing the second act I was suddenly stricken with fever.
I do not know how long the fever lasted, but I know that it was a great deal of time before I came to my senses. During the course of this agonizing ordeal my head felt as if it would split at the site of its injury. My brain swelled, and my body raged. I drank alcohol to attempt to ease the pain, but it did nothing except cause me to cry like a child. At one point I attempted to go to the doctor, but I could not find my front door. Curled in a ball I cowered in the corner of my dark tenement, I called out to my brother who had died in a car wreck, I held communion with my mother who died of cancer.
All the while my thoughts could not leave Carcosa, as if my spirit itself had left my body and was travelling across the strange lands without me. At some point I knew I was being watched, because whatever the intentions of Cassilda'sConspiracy by gifting me the play, whether benevolent or sinister. That by reading the second act of the King in Yellow I had brought my existence to the attention of the dreaded ruler.
This is not because I am in anyway more special than the average human. It seemed to me more akin to the way that a beetle writhing in a terrarium might peek the interest of an entomologist in a white coat. Yet my writhing had drawn the interest of something far more terrible donned in a yellow robe.
Where I live is at the edge of town, about forty five minutes from the truly urban areas, a low rent building with crumbling architecture. The outside lock is of modern design, but the inside locks are antiquated key holes with lever style door knobs beneath them. During the most awful throes of my illness, and at the peak of my (justified) paranoia I became particularly intent upon the door furthest from the corner in which I lay. Covered in old sweat and surrounded by empty bottles, this door was all that I could see. My surroundings had taken on a very alien nature. Whether because of hallucinations from my tortured mind, or because I was actually somewhere other than my abode I was not sure. The walls of the room squirmed with strange fluidity, and oozed in towards me creating a narrow hallway surrounded by darkness. My world tilted on its axis, and my vision twisted the door as if it were pulled by a hypnotist's spiral.
Something was on the other side of that door, that I was sure of. The more I stared at the door, the only identifiable object in the tempest around me, the more certain I became that whatever was on the other side of the door was watching me through the keyhole.
