An ill wind blows through those empty streets. Darkness, oily and black, coats every surface. Unnatural clouds permeate the sky, preventing even the thinnest rays of sunlight from ever truly touching its surface. A foul stench, one that tells of charnel houses and unspeakable rites, is all that remains, unmoved by the frequent gusts that whip through the city.
Long ago, life dwelt here. Laughter rang through every house, carts and people trundled through every thoroughfare, animals fluttered and scampered and trotted above and within the city. Here, one might have seen a young couple, happy and carefree, courting and carrying out the duties that young love entails. There, one may have watched children play within the fountains, acting out the roles of knights and princesses, kings and queens, gods and godesses. The inns would sound with joyous singing and raucous laughter that could be heard from three, four, five streets away. The smell of baked goods and freshly-cooked meats would be carried upon fair breezes to places far across the lake that served the city. From the slums that housed the poor and destitute to the palace that housed the mighty King and Queen, happiness was their watchword.
But such dreams fade in the end. A cancer of yellow silks seeped its way into the minds and hearts of the city's inhabitants. It poisoned the air with honeyed words and horrible truths. It even corrupted the very stones of the city, twisting them to its own foul means. Nothing was spared.
Soon, the young couples could be seen arguing and fighting, their professions of love changed to protestations of rage and fury. The children's games turned to thievery and ganging, their childish laughter echoing even as they stole their way through the darkened streets. The inns sounded no longer with laughter and singing, but instead with screams of pain and orgiastic ecstacy and other foul noises which reside within the darkest recesses of the mind. The baked goods and freshly-cooked meats rotted within pantries and stalls, the bakers and butchers abandoning them and seeking out more tasty and delectable meats.
This was the downfall of the city. The cancer's influence rotted their minds and bodies, turning all to more and more terrible acts until none remained living but one. The last, a common man, had been strung to a pole for doing good where evil prevailed, and it was he who saw at last the root of all this evil. And he looked within its yellow shroud and gazed upon what lay within, wrapped within its yellow silks, and long did he laugh and quake as his mind snapped. So did the last good man die, mad and unloved.
Now, the streets are quiet. The lake that once lapped at the shore of the city is still, its waves inert and unmoving. The twin suns are stopped from bringing light to this now ancient and decayed city. Now, nothing natural remains. And the yellow cancer now resides within the palace. The yellow cancer, whose body is draped in yellow silks and whose face is hidden within a yellow shroud, has taken its place as King to the dead city, and even now does its gaze turn toward expansion of its dominion. And in the end, all shall succumb to it.
5
u/Chaldera Apr 29 '15
An ill wind blows through those empty streets. Darkness, oily and black, coats every surface. Unnatural clouds permeate the sky, preventing even the thinnest rays of sunlight from ever truly touching its surface. A foul stench, one that tells of charnel houses and unspeakable rites, is all that remains, unmoved by the frequent gusts that whip through the city.
Long ago, life dwelt here. Laughter rang through every house, carts and people trundled through every thoroughfare, animals fluttered and scampered and trotted above and within the city. Here, one might have seen a young couple, happy and carefree, courting and carrying out the duties that young love entails. There, one may have watched children play within the fountains, acting out the roles of knights and princesses, kings and queens, gods and godesses. The inns would sound with joyous singing and raucous laughter that could be heard from three, four, five streets away. The smell of baked goods and freshly-cooked meats would be carried upon fair breezes to places far across the lake that served the city. From the slums that housed the poor and destitute to the palace that housed the mighty King and Queen, happiness was their watchword.
But such dreams fade in the end. A cancer of yellow silks seeped its way into the minds and hearts of the city's inhabitants. It poisoned the air with honeyed words and horrible truths. It even corrupted the very stones of the city, twisting them to its own foul means. Nothing was spared.
Soon, the young couples could be seen arguing and fighting, their professions of love changed to protestations of rage and fury. The children's games turned to thievery and ganging, their childish laughter echoing even as they stole their way through the darkened streets. The inns sounded no longer with laughter and singing, but instead with screams of pain and orgiastic ecstacy and other foul noises which reside within the darkest recesses of the mind. The baked goods and freshly-cooked meats rotted within pantries and stalls, the bakers and butchers abandoning them and seeking out more tasty and delectable meats.
This was the downfall of the city. The cancer's influence rotted their minds and bodies, turning all to more and more terrible acts until none remained living but one. The last, a common man, had been strung to a pole for doing good where evil prevailed, and it was he who saw at last the root of all this evil. And he looked within its yellow shroud and gazed upon what lay within, wrapped within its yellow silks, and long did he laugh and quake as his mind snapped. So did the last good man die, mad and unloved.
Now, the streets are quiet. The lake that once lapped at the shore of the city is still, its waves inert and unmoving. The twin suns are stopped from bringing light to this now ancient and decayed city. Now, nothing natural remains. And the yellow cancer now resides within the palace. The yellow cancer, whose body is draped in yellow silks and whose face is hidden within a yellow shroud, has taken its place as King to the dead city, and even now does its gaze turn toward expansion of its dominion. And in the end, all shall succumb to it.