Read Online In the Court of the Yellow King by Tim Curran, Cody Goodfellow, Gary McMahon, C.J. Henderson, William Meikle, T.E. Grau, Laurel Halbany, Christine Morgan, Edward Morris - Free Book Online Page A

playwright — had excised those portions of the play, the director’s explanation being that “Spontaneity, my children, will have its day, and your reactions will be as authentic as the audiences’.” Three actors — none, thankfully, in major roles — had dropped out after only a few rehearsals, claiming the play was causing them “psychological distress.” While Kathryn and Jayda Rivera had hit it off from the start, the actors who played Cassilda’s sons, Uoht and Thale, never associated with the rest of the cast. The former, a handsome, chisel-faced youngster named Les Perrin, always appeared sullen and withdrawn, his every free moment spent with his face stuck to his iPhone. The latter was a chunky, bearded gentleman named Kenton Peach who had starred in several noteworthy shows, including I’m Not Rappa port and The Odd Couple ; ironically, hewas old enough to be Kathryn’s father. He seemed polite enough but frequently faded into the shadows as if performing a soliloquy for no one.
    Labeling Broach an ‘eccentric’ was like saying Jenna Jameson was a little audacious. The director’s moods swung between exuberance and depression, sometimes within minutes of each other. At least he seemed taken with Kathryn’s portrayal of the moody Cassilda. “You give her life,” he told her, “which is more than she ever knew before.”
    To date, the “Yellow Sign” had been represented by an “X” rendered in yellow paint. Why, she wondered, did that bother her so? Not to mention the fact the King in Yellow himself was played by some anonymous actor, whose identity only Broach knew.
    Kathryn’s roommate, Yumiko, after one read-through, refused to practice with her any further. “This play is not happy for me,” she had said. “It feels bad.”
    Two weeks remained before the opening. Broach had promised the sets would be “phenomenal,” and the stage crew had their work cut out for them. Until then, there would be rehearsals every night, but they still had no inkling of how the play would actually end.
    However, as Kathryn had hoped, the first stage rehearsal felt different. Good different. Even without the sets in place, the theater aura bolstered her confidence, and as Cassilda slipped inside her, the two of them breathing together as one, the orchestra sent up swirling, mystical strains from woodwinds and strings, weaving an otherworldly atmosphere that was at once dark and lovely. As Scene 2 of Act 1 — Cassilda’s song — loomed nearer, the music became more intense, the brooding bass deeper and more ominous, the ethereal flutes more melodic.
    The introduction to the song began. Weird and wistful, the instruments assumed the quality of human voices, humming and warbling in an eerie melody that gave Kathryn a chill.
    She needed no cue to begin.
    “‘Along the sh ore the cloud waves break,
    The twin suns sink beneath the lak e,
    The shadows length en
    In Carcosa.’”
    Her voice was not hers. Alien , it seemed, more assured and more beautiful than any her vocal cords could produce. She felt herself diminishing. All she could perceive — all that was left of her — was her voice.
    “‘Strange is the night where blac k stars rise,
    And str ange moons circle th rough the skies
    But stranger still is
    Lo st Carcosa.’”
    “‘Songs tha t the Hyades shall s ing,
    Where flap the t atters of the King,
    M ust die unheard in
    D im Carcosa.’”
    Her heart swelled, and her feet seemed to leave the floor, her body as light as a dust mote, her emotions overflowing, spilling into all those within her presence.
    “‘Song of m y soul, my voice is d ead;
    Die thou, unsung, as tears unshed
    Shal l dry and die in
    Los t Carcosa.’”
    The last syllable echoed away into pure, empty silence. She had no breath left in her lungs.
    Camilla — no, Jayda — stood nearby, her eyes bright jewels, tears glistening on her cheeks. Kenton Peach lifted an arm and propped himself on Les Perrin’s shoulder, as if to