The Prompt
The moonlight descended on the east side of the Wagner Tower like an ancestral bone dust. The ectoplasm of a vague awareness crossed a tenant’s mind seeking for oblivion: finally, the dull blows coming from God knows what remote corner of the old building had decided to quit and he would have slept. However, between the seventy-fifth and seventy-fourth floor, a particularly fine ear could have still seized an intermittent, stifled counterpoint of voices.
"I feel that this unusual condition is helping us bring out some interesting perspectives, Mendo." In breaking the silence, the psychotherapist's voice had soon lost its initial momentum.
"..."
"I want you to know that this time won’t be billed, go ahead if you feel like it." She tried to assume a playful expression. Hidden underneath her short suit jacket, Dr. Wallace's fingers were nervously playing with a fluorescent orange rubber bracelet.
"No-one is ever suspended, not even now with seventy-four floors of nothing underfoot..."
"Well, this is certainly a positive observation..."
"Shut up, you don’t know a shit." An almost calm remark, pronounced with a firmness that hit Dr. Wallace like a bucket of frozen water.
"Have you ever thought, doctor," Mendo continued, sharply spelling out his last word, "that the fear of emptiness, the horror vacui as they defined it in the Middle Ages, is nothing but the unconscious and desperate attempt to look away from the ultimate truth?"
Since the elevator had blocked its descent, the patient had confined himself to a corner on the opposite side of the entrance. His left leg was now dancing grotesquely, animated like it had a life of its own and in contrast with the cadaveric stiffness of his other body parts.
"I never thought of that." Dr. Wallace wisely responded in brief, observing for the umpteenth time the assistance number carved on the elevator control panel.
"Mmmm...” A growing moan on the other side of the narrow cabin.
The doctor instinctively thought of her daughter that night, when the wind had hit the fixtures of the old house in the mountains so intensely that it produced an endless banshee howl. The little girl had made a sound of compressed horror, just like that.
If only she had known, she would have never asked Mr. Anatoliy “Mendoza” Volkov, an extraordinarily subtle personality, to follow her downstairs after that emergency therapy session in her office. On the other hand, he was one of her first and most challenging patients. Furthermore, he used to pay awesomely.
"Because the void swarms." Now his eyes were on the doctor, sunken out and bugging out at the same time.
"Soon they'll free us, do you think you'll keep writing that song you were talking about?" Dr. Wallace ventured. She realized that the silk shirt was soaking with her acrid sweat.
"It's the Yellow King's dominion, he comes from the void, it's him who made me do those things. I did not want to." His whine ripped open in a sinister vocal of terror.
"Mendo .." She did not know what to add. Now the doctor's hand, behind her sweating back, was pressing the assistance button convulsively.
His wide open eyes. They had stopped staring at her and now they were pointing up, right behind her shoulders.
"Mendo, what's up?"
"The Yellow King. He's here."
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The Story Continues……
“What? Where?” the doctor tried to follow Mendo’s gaze and was frozen stiff in horror. She moved back instinctively towards Mendo.
“You have disappointed me,” the deep voice sent chills down the doctor’s spine.
“This paper has everything I own. Please, please, let me go…” Mendo was sobbing. The soul tearing roar that followed knocked Mendo out.
“Mendo, Mendo..” Dr. Wallace called out but he was unconscious.
“The Yellow King’s here, hahahah,” the doctor tried to ape Mendo’s voice, “help me here, Mr. Yellow King.”
“At your service, doc,” the man said as he removed his mask.
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“I hope he is not dead,” Markovtzki was worried. He did the Yellow King thing at the doctor’s behest for some cool bucks. Somebody’s life was not his intention.
“Chill, even if he dies it will look like death due to a heart-attack.”
“But that’s not right. I get the money part but I am not going to be responsible for someone’s life.”
“Now, back-off you loser. I know what I did and I did it well. You want to go back to the dump?” The doctor was threatening. Mark knew how many rich clients she had ruined and she would not bat an eye to get him out of her way.
“How did you know that he will fall for the Yellow King?”
“I set him up you, idiot. He opened up on the Yellow stuff once. Thereafter, I conditioned him to believe things about the Yellow Monster…”
“Yellow King,” Mark pitched in, “and it is not just a myth. It is…”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever shit and I used that to our advantage. And now transferring millions of Euros from his account to mine.”
“Dr. Wallace, something feels out of place.”
“Now, get out of here and quit distracting me,” the doc was least bothered even to turn. Not that she ever cared that a spineless guy like Mark could do anything behind her back.
“What do I do with him?”
“Tie him up for now.”
Mark got hold of Mendo’s hands and was shocked to find it ice cold. “He’s dead. Oh shit, doc, he is dead!”
“If you say that once again, you will be dead too. Now shut up and sit down or you will be in the same grave as him.” Dr. Wallace was frantically punching her account number. “Just one more click…”
“Doc, we are f****d,” it was not the words but the deep tremble which accompanied it made Dr. Wallace turn.
“Hello, you worthless soul. Am I going to enjoy reaping you!”
Markovtzki’s body could hardly support him. He slumped to the ground in fits. A blinding light followed and Dr. Wallace’s charred body was plastered to the ground. Mendo was gone.
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“So, always be good children and do good to others. If you hurt anyone, you will have to face the Yellow King,” Mark completed his bed time story. It was scary as hell.
“We will be good, Daddy.”
“Good. Now, go to sleep.” Mark couldn’t quite figure why he told his children the Yellow King story and that too for bed time.
“Daddy.”
“Yes?”
“Sleep with us today, please.”
“Okay, make place.”
Mark still couldn’t believe his luck. He did not know why the Yellow King left him untouched that day. He was not sure if Mendo was the Yellow King or if he was possessed by the Yellow King. Whatever it was, he didn’t look forward to another encounter with Hastur.
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This story is written in response to 
Image Courtesy: Pixabay