Chrispy's New King in Yellow Story Live!

It's free, it's at +Horror Library+ written in an antiquarian style - and it begins:

We shall be notes in that great symphony,
We shall not die today,
The Golden Play itself shall be our Immortality.

- After Oscar Wilde’s Panthea.

I. At the Hospital Waiting for the Specter of Death

"Elizabeth!"

Finally, after nearly an hour of offering up prayers, my beloved’s eyes blink.

"I praise the Golden Savior that you are with me again. If you hear my voice, blink again."

Oh, blessed day, her eyelids twitch. She hears! The coma has ended. For two nights and a day my faithful fast and prayers has made this moment come. Thanks to the words written by blessed Mark: I cried out for my beloved, and said with tears, Lord, I believe, help thou mine unbelief.

Unable to speak, her eyes stare embedded in a ceresin-colored face. It reminds me of the pallid mask scene in The King in Yellow. That beauteous work has nurtured our love from playground puppy love to the depths of passion. To others, the unenlightened fools, it means chaotic, confused death. The world feels that the play is "purest poison". This, we proved by our life, is utter nonsense.

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