The King in Yellow

Do not finish the play. That is the only rule. Nobody keeps it. Somewhere a book is circulating whose second act does not let you go. Chambers will not show you the lines. He will show you the readers: a cracked mind in New York, a studio in Paris, a church where something takes the pew behind you. Black stars. A lake. A king in tattered yellow. This is not a ghost story you leave on the table. It is a contagion. The sign is already in the margin. Turn the page if you want — they did too.