Along the Shores of Eternity
“O’er the mountains and past the skies,
Where souls sing gayly before they die,
I shall see you there, in the by and by,
Along the shores of great Carcosa…”
Excerpt: Act II, Scene 1 – “The King in Yellow”
‘Don’t open the door.’
It was a simple instruction, yet one I somehow failed to follow. Left in a letter that appeared on my dining room table, I noticed it the same night we returned home from the grand play, the name of which I shall never speak of again. My wife, my darling Crystal, thought nothing of it. After all, she’d fallen asleep halfway through the first act and didn’t stir until well after the curtain’s call; saved from insanity by little more than a mid-afternoon nap and dumb luck.
But not I.
No, I had watched with great delight as the singers sang and the dancers danced; as the crowd moved and swayed, guided along by spectral actors who spoke with all the elegance of a band of sirens. I had followed their every move, and I had listened to their every word. And when we had returned home, it was none other than I who found that accursed letter.
‘Don’t open the door.’
It seemed silly at first. After all, what door in my own house had I not opened at least a dozen times before? Perhaps even hundreds. But as my darling Crystal slipped away into slumber, I soon found what someone else was trying to warn me of. There, standing tall and proud in the center of my study, was a great oak door; trimmed with alabaster and gilded with the finest of gold. In all my awe and wonder, I went to speak, but no words ever came out. I went to move, but my feet stood firm.
THROUGH THIS DOOR LIES HEAVEN AND HELL
THROUGH THIS DOOR LIES THE GREAT CARCOSA
It was printed above the mantel; chiseled in by ethereal hands that words could never hope to describe. And in that moment, I knew the stories were true! I knew that the songs sung and the dances danced were more than just the amalgamation of some great imagining. They were directions! Prophecies of all that was and all that was to be!
They were, or so I thought, the proclamations of that great and mighty king – the giver of knowledge and the deliverer of madness.
‘Don’t open the door,’ the letter read. But open the door, I did.
And oh, how I wish I hadn’t…
Stepping through life and into eternity, I felt an icy wind against my face as all that I ever knew fell away from existence. My body, my very being, was made new in an instant; my soul transformed, violently freed from its mortal bondage and left to wander aimlessly through a void and cold abyss. For what I can only describe as a lifetime, I fell into that great nothingness, and in what felt like a sliver of a second, I found myself standing along that distant shore.
Silent, I stood there frozen, watching as the twin suns were swallowed up behind the crystal sea.
Silent, I stood there frozen, surrounded by countless others watching through gilded masks.
And when that great sea opened up, and the moon erupted in the sky, I saw him for the first time.
Clothed in darkness and bathed in starlight, he sat before us atop a golden throne; his great, white eyes piercing through me like a thousand spears. I knew in that moment that I was ruined! That my curiosity had led me to my own demise! Terrified, I went to run, but no matter which direction I turned, there he was. Watching and waiting; peering into my soul while speaking to me of all the truths that no man should ever understand.
I ran for what felt like ages! Begging for deliverance! Pleading for mercy! But no matter how far I ran, I could never escape his gaze. And as moments turned into hours, and hours into eons, eventually, I quit running altogether.
“Through my door, lies heaven and hell,” he chanted.
“And in my presence, forever dwell.
Minds made one as souls converge,
Feeding your King with a carnal urge…
…Forever mine in Carcosa…”
And so, here I am, one with the masses of imbeciles. A loving husband turned forgotten remnant, all because I could not heed the instructions of a simple letter. It’s been nearly four thousand years since that dreadful day; a mere drop in the oceans of eternity. And in those millennia, I’ve stood here along the same crystal shores as when I first arrived, shoulder to shoulder with the other countless fools, each of them ignorant in their own, pitiful way. Every day, from sun-birth to sun-death, we stare at him – devoting our existence to little more than honoring his own self-indulgence. And every day, I wish I could send a warning to myself; a letter back in time to the old me, beckoning that foolish man not to come near this place.
I would tell him, ‘Don’t open the door.’
