The Yellow Sign by Robert W. Chambers (part 4)
Have you found the Yellow Sign?
Have you found the Yellow Sign?
Have you found the Yellow Sign?
Let’s hope you never do.
But we do know two people who have. And they are about to realize it themselves, not that that will do them any good. Welcome to the terrifying conclusion of “The Yellow Sign,” in which the cosmic dread peaks, but that dreadful heteronormative exclusion is blissfully absent.
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Writing/Editing & Narration by Maika
Music by The Parlour Trick
Audio Engineering by Meredith Yayanos
Cover Art Illustration by Daniel Kern
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Transcript
Gather round and welcome.
Speaker:This is Liminal Flares -
Speaker:Bedtime Stories from beyond and in between,
Speaker:readings of eldritch literature drawn from from the public domain
Speaker:and amended to be gender-inclusive.
Speaker:My name is Maika, and I am your queer, trans, nonbinary narrator.
Speaker:Today we are reading the fourth and final part of "The Yellow Sign" by Robert W. Chambers.
Speaker:Last week, our narrator, Mr. Scott, grappled with the repercussions of kissing Tessie, his art model,
Speaker:and subsequently discovering her ardent feelings for him.
Speaker:He had an alarming encounter with that mysterious and unpleasant guard outside the church next door,
Speaker:after which he once again dreamt about being trapped in a coffin,
Speaker:traveling inside a horsedrawn hearse driven by that very same church guard.
Speaker:The following morning Mr. Scott returned to his studio, where he received a very unusual gift from Tessie.
Speaker:And now let's continue with our tale...
Speaker:The day following was a disastrous one for me.
Speaker:While moving a framed canvas from one easel to another my foot slipped on the polished floor and I fell heavily on both wrists.
Speaker:They were so badly sprained that it was useless to attempt to hold a brush,
Speaker:and I was obliged to wander about the studio, glaring at unfinished drawings and sketches,
Speaker:until despair seized me and I sat down to smoke and twiddle my thumbs with rage.
Speaker:The rain blew against the windows and rattled on the roof of the church,
Speaker:driving me into a nervous fit with its interminable patter.
Speaker:Tessie sat sewing by the window and every now and then raised her head and looked at me with such innocent compassion
Speaker:that I began to feel ashamed of my irritation and looked about for something to occupy me.
Speaker:I had read all the papers and all the books in the library,
Speaker:but for the sake of something to do, I went to the bookcases and shoved them open with my elbow.
Speaker:I knew every volume by its color and examined them all,
Speaker:passing slowly around the library and whistling to keep up my spirits.
Speaker:I was turning to go into the dining room when my eye fell upon a book bound in serpent skin,
Speaker:standing in a corner of the top shelf of the last bookcase.
Speaker:I did not remember it, and from the floor could not decipher the pale lettering on the back.
Speaker:So I went to the smoking room and called Tessie.
Speaker:She came in from the studio and climbed up to reach the book.
Speaker:"What is it?" I asked
Speaker:"The King in Yellow."
Speaker:I was dumbfounded.
Speaker:Who had placed it there? How came it in my rooms?
Speaker:I had long ago decided that I should never open that book and nothing on earth could have persuaded me to buy it.
Speaker:Fearful lest curiosity might tempt me to open it, I had never even looked at it in bookstores
Speaker:If I ever had had any curiosity to read it, the awful tragedy of young Castaigne, whom I knew, prevented me from exploring its wicked pages.
Speaker:I had always refused to listen to any description of it, and indeed, nobody ever ventured to discuss the second part aloud,
Speaker:so I had absolutely no knowledge of what those leaves might reveal.
Speaker:I stared at the poisonous mottled binding as I would at a snake.
Speaker:"Don't touch it, Tessie," I said. "Come down."
Speaker:Of course my admonition was enough to arouse her curiosity,
Speaker:and before I could prevent it she took the book and, laughing, danced off into the studio with it.
Speaker:I called to her, but she slipped away with a tormenting smile at my helpless hands, and I followed her with some impatience.
Speaker:"Tessie, I cried, entering the library.
Speaker:"Listen, I am serious. Put that book away. I do not wish you to open it."
Speaker:The library was empty.
Speaker:I went into both drawing rooms, then into the bedrooms, laundry, kitchen,
Speaker:and finally returned to the library and began a systematic search.
Speaker:She had hidden herself so well that it was half an hour later when I discovered her crouching white and silent by the latticed window in the storeroom above.
Speaker:At the first glance I saw she had been punished for her foolishness.
Speaker:The King in Yellow lay at her feet, but the book was opened at the second part.
Speaker:I looked at Tessie and saw it was too late.
Speaker:She had opened the King in Yellow.
Speaker:Then I took her by the hand and led her into the studio.
Speaker:She seemed dazed, and when I told her to lie down on the sofa she obeyed me without a word.
Speaker:After a while she closed her eyes and her breathing became regular and deep, but I could not determine whether or not she slept.
Speaker:For a long while I sat silently beside her, but she neither stirred nor spoke,
Speaker:and at last I rose and, entering the unused storeroom, took the book in my least injured hand.
Speaker:It seemed heavy as lead, but I carried it into the studio again and, sitting down on the rug beside the sofa,
Speaker:opened it and read it through from beginning to end.
Speaker:When, faint with excess of my emotions, I dropped the volume and leaned wearily back against the sofa,
Speaker:Tessie opened her eyes and looked at me.
Speaker:We had been speaking for some time in a dull, monotonous strain before I realized that we were discussing The King in Yellow.
Speaker:Oh, the sin of writing such words, words which are clear as crystal, limpid and musical as bubbling springs,
Speaker:words which sparkle and glow like the poisoned diamonds of the Medicis!
Speaker:Oh, the wickedness, the hopeless damnation of a soul who could fascinate and paralyze human creatures with such words,
Speaker:words understood by the ignorant and wise alike, words which are more precious than jewels,
Speaker:more soothing than music, more awful than death!
Speaker:We talked on, unmindful of the gathering shadows,
Speaker:and she was begging me to throw away the clasp of black onyx, quaintly inlaid with what we now knew to be the Yellow Sign.
Speaker:I never shall know why I refused, though even at this hour, here in my bedroom as I write this confession,
Speaker:I should be glad to know what it was that prevented me from tearing the Yellow Sign from my breast and casting it into the fire.
Speaker:I am sure I wished to do so, and yet Tessie pleaded with me in vain.
Speaker:Night fell and the hours dragged on,
Speaker:but still we murmured to each other of the King and the Pallid Mask,
Speaker:and midnight sounded from the misty spires in the fog-wrapped city.
Speaker:We spoke of Hastur and of Cassilda,
Speaker:while outside the fog rolled against the blank window-panes
Speaker:as the cloud waves roll and break on the shores of Hali.
Speaker:The house was very silent now, and not a sound came up from the misty streets.
Speaker:Tessie lay among the cushions, her face a gray blot in the gloom,
Speaker:but her hands were clasped in mine,
Speaker:and I knew that she knew and read my thoughts as I read hers,
Speaker:for we had understood the mystery of the Hyades and the Phantom of Truth was laid.
Speaker:Then as we answered each other, swiftly, silently, thought on thought,
Speaker:the shadows stirred in the gloom about us,
Speaker:and far in the distant streets we heard a sound.
Speaker:Nearer and nearer it came, the dull crunching of wheels, nearer and yet nearer,
Speaker:and now, outside before the door it ceased,
Speaker:and I dragged myself to the window and saw a black-plumed hearse.
Speaker:The gate below opened and shut, and I crept shaking to my door and bolted it,
Speaker:but I knew no bolts, no locks, could keep that creature out who was coming for the Yellow Sign.
Speaker:And now I heard them moving very softly along the hall.
Speaker:Now they were at the door,
Speaker:and the bolts rotted at their touch.
Speaker:Now they had entered.
Speaker:With eyes starting from my head I peered into the darkness,
Speaker:but when they came into the room I did not see them.
Speaker:It was only when I felt them envelop me in their cold, soft grasp that I cried out and struggled with deadly fury,
Speaker:but my hands were useless and they tore the onyx clasp from my coat and struck me full in the face.
Speaker:Then, as I fell, I heard Tessie's soft cry and her spirit fled:
Speaker:and even while falling I longed to follow her,
Speaker:for I knew that the King in Yellow had opened their tattered mantle
Speaker:and there was only God to cry to now.
Speaker:I could tell more, but I cannot see what help it will be to the world.
Speaker:As for me, I am past human help or hope.
Speaker:As I lie here, writing, careless even whether or not I die before I finish,
Speaker:I can see the doctor gathering up their powders and phials with a vague gesture to the good priest beside me,
Speaker:which I understand.
Speaker:They will be very curious to know the tragedy,
Speaker:they of the outside world who write books and print millions of newspapers,
Speaker:but I shall write no more,
Speaker:and the priest will seal my last words with the seal of sanctity when his holy office is done.
Speaker:They of the outside world may send their creatures into wrecked homes and death-smitten firesides,
Speaker:and their newspapers will batten on blood and tears,
Speaker:but with me their spies must halt before the confessional.
Speaker:They know that Tessie is dead and that I am dying.
Speaker:They know how the people in this house, aroused by an infernal scream,
Speaker:rushed into my room and found one living and two dead,
Speaker:but they do not know what I shall tell them now;
Speaker:they do not know that the doctor said, as they pointed to a horrible decomposed heap on the floor,
Speaker:the livid corpse of the guard from the church:
Speaker:"I have no theory, no explanation. That person must have been dead for months!"
Speaker:I think I am dying.
Speaker:I wish the priest would—
Speaker:Thank you for listening to Liminal Flares.
Speaker:Our music is by The Parlour Trick. Audio Engineering by Meredith Yayanos.
Speaker:I hope you've enjoyed our time together in this twilit space.
Speaker:If you did and would like to help support our show,
Speaker:subscribe and leave us a rating and a review on your favorite podcast platform.
Speaker:And please share us with others who might enjoy our haunted and haunting, gender-inclusive story time.
Speaker:Next week, we read Christina Rossetti's narrative poem, Goblin Market,
Speaker:and get to experience the sensuous temptations and dire consequences of buying fruit from fay merchants.
Speaker:I do hope you'll join me.
Speaker:P.S.
Speaker:If you have a favorite author or a specific piece of writing, a short story, poem, or passage from a book
Speaker:that's in the public domain in the US, I welcome your requests for future episodes.
Speaker:You'll find links to archives of public domain literature in the resources section of our website, liminalflares.com,
Speaker:where you'll also find more information about us, this show, and individual episodes as they air.
Speaker:Submit your requests via the website or via social media @liminalflares,