Amiel
2012-05-04, 11:05 PM
"When the last days were upon me, and the ugly trifles of existence began to drive me to madness like the small drops of water that torturers let fall ceaselessly upon one spot of their victims body, I loved the irradiate refuge of sleep. In my dreams I found a little of the beauty I had vainly sought in life, and wandered through old gardens and enchanted woods."
HP Lovecraft
http://fc07.deviantart.net/fs70/i/2012/044/e/6/lost_in_the_woods_by_omgaunicorn-d4po57s.jpg
The Yellow Road
It has long been said that all legends arise from truth; that historical contortions and temporal burdens displace this absolute truth into fragments, each bearing a degree of relevance yet concealing the whole.
From such shattered perceptions continues the progression of myth, ultimately gestating as traveller's tales and stories.
The Yellow Road is one such reality that would benefit from having its origins and purpose cast into the brilliance of truth.
The Yellow Road appears a game-trail, a gash within fog-haunted redwood forest. The trail appears disused, yet recently tracked, as if carefully tended to.
The forest surrounding the Yellow Road usually manifests closely to civilisation, usually a village or town, though sometimes a large city or metropolis; the game-trail itself merges with the routes leading to and from the locale, enticing travellers to travel upon it.
It has been theorised following observation that the Yellow Road acts as a beacon of some sort, a lure dangling the worm before the fish; scenting the air around the game-trail with irresistable pheromones, as animals are irrevocably drawn to the game-trail immediately following the Yellow Road's appearance.
Those who look beyond this momentarily cause for celebration talk of oddities and aberrance. Animals seem to display unusual, jarring movements within sight of the Yellow Road; a whip-crack bending of the neck, halting steps, and repetitive actions.
Those who listen beyond the background noise of the outer forest speak of weird piping and forlorn moans of pain and despondence that punctuate the weird silence of the Yellow Road.
Attentive listeners verbalise a constant susurration of whispers, a litany of secrets spoken and impersonal ramblings that pervades the piping and moans.
Yet what is stranger still is the complete desertion of some towns; entire houses emptied with no signs of struggle and food still on plates.
The disappearance is not total, sometimes bodies are found upon the remnants of the Yellow Road; wearing no clothes yet oddly frozen, some appear to have disrobed with great haste. While other times, the bodies appear to have been dealt with great force, with massive depressions in chests, heads and extremities.
A rare few bodies are marked with unnatural sigils, symbols twisted into impossible shapes and faintly glowing yellow.
The Yellow Road is overgrown with brambles and thick, twisting thorns during the day; these thorned vines reek of the iron tang of blood, yet no blood-spatter is visible along their length.
Curiously, a confused progression of small conical mounds, their facades covered in verdigris (the mushrooms), crosses the extent of the Yellow Road. Digging into these mounds yields lost wealth, but also the thick, cloying smell of something unidentifiable.
The Yellow Road is enveloped by an eerie fog at night - the brambles and thorns retreat, freeing the trail from detritus, almost as if afraid.
Mildrew from the fog stains the remaining vegetation, and if licked yields the unmistakable tang of blood.
The conical mounds become yawning maws at night; the earth along their sides peeling away like an open orange. Thick thorned wooden cages are sunk into some mounds, their contents indistinguishable from the darkness, while others are defaced with the imprints of things clawing from the inside.
http://fc02.deviantart.net/fs28/f/2008/108/a/3/In_that_tiny_kinda_scary_house_by_Caraya.jpg
A dilapidated cabin squats within a small clearing adjacent to the Yellow Road like a menacing toad. Pushing open the hanging door brings forth the putrescence of long-rotting things and stagnant air.
Save for one room, the cabin is cluttered with well-worn detritus and the walls seem to bleed a viscous yellow, this fluid seems to have burnt impossible symbols from ceiling to floor.
Left unstained is a room with a curious-looking bath; accentuating the sterility of the room is the smell of a conspicuous chemical.
The bath appears to be angled in a way that its door-facing end is tipped into the wooden floor while its other end is elevated.
A rusting chain descends from the ceiling and coils into the bath. Tugging on this length causes a grinding noise to reverberate from underneath the cabin.
Lifting the bath itself produces a deep humanoid-sized chute with clockwork gears wrapped about the opening.
Dropping a torch into the chute exposes a cavern of chopping blades at the very bottom.
HP Lovecraft
http://fc07.deviantart.net/fs70/i/2012/044/e/6/lost_in_the_woods_by_omgaunicorn-d4po57s.jpg
The Yellow Road
It has long been said that all legends arise from truth; that historical contortions and temporal burdens displace this absolute truth into fragments, each bearing a degree of relevance yet concealing the whole.
From such shattered perceptions continues the progression of myth, ultimately gestating as traveller's tales and stories.
The Yellow Road is one such reality that would benefit from having its origins and purpose cast into the brilliance of truth.
The Yellow Road appears a game-trail, a gash within fog-haunted redwood forest. The trail appears disused, yet recently tracked, as if carefully tended to.
The forest surrounding the Yellow Road usually manifests closely to civilisation, usually a village or town, though sometimes a large city or metropolis; the game-trail itself merges with the routes leading to and from the locale, enticing travellers to travel upon it.
It has been theorised following observation that the Yellow Road acts as a beacon of some sort, a lure dangling the worm before the fish; scenting the air around the game-trail with irresistable pheromones, as animals are irrevocably drawn to the game-trail immediately following the Yellow Road's appearance.
Those who look beyond this momentarily cause for celebration talk of oddities and aberrance. Animals seem to display unusual, jarring movements within sight of the Yellow Road; a whip-crack bending of the neck, halting steps, and repetitive actions.
Those who listen beyond the background noise of the outer forest speak of weird piping and forlorn moans of pain and despondence that punctuate the weird silence of the Yellow Road.
Attentive listeners verbalise a constant susurration of whispers, a litany of secrets spoken and impersonal ramblings that pervades the piping and moans.
Yet what is stranger still is the complete desertion of some towns; entire houses emptied with no signs of struggle and food still on plates.
The disappearance is not total, sometimes bodies are found upon the remnants of the Yellow Road; wearing no clothes yet oddly frozen, some appear to have disrobed with great haste. While other times, the bodies appear to have been dealt with great force, with massive depressions in chests, heads and extremities.
A rare few bodies are marked with unnatural sigils, symbols twisted into impossible shapes and faintly glowing yellow.
The Yellow Road is overgrown with brambles and thick, twisting thorns during the day; these thorned vines reek of the iron tang of blood, yet no blood-spatter is visible along their length.
Curiously, a confused progression of small conical mounds, their facades covered in verdigris (the mushrooms), crosses the extent of the Yellow Road. Digging into these mounds yields lost wealth, but also the thick, cloying smell of something unidentifiable.
The Yellow Road is enveloped by an eerie fog at night - the brambles and thorns retreat, freeing the trail from detritus, almost as if afraid.
Mildrew from the fog stains the remaining vegetation, and if licked yields the unmistakable tang of blood.
The conical mounds become yawning maws at night; the earth along their sides peeling away like an open orange. Thick thorned wooden cages are sunk into some mounds, their contents indistinguishable from the darkness, while others are defaced with the imprints of things clawing from the inside.
http://fc02.deviantart.net/fs28/f/2008/108/a/3/In_that_tiny_kinda_scary_house_by_Caraya.jpg
A dilapidated cabin squats within a small clearing adjacent to the Yellow Road like a menacing toad. Pushing open the hanging door brings forth the putrescence of long-rotting things and stagnant air.
Save for one room, the cabin is cluttered with well-worn detritus and the walls seem to bleed a viscous yellow, this fluid seems to have burnt impossible symbols from ceiling to floor.
Left unstained is a room with a curious-looking bath; accentuating the sterility of the room is the smell of a conspicuous chemical.
The bath appears to be angled in a way that its door-facing end is tipped into the wooden floor while its other end is elevated.
A rusting chain descends from the ceiling and coils into the bath. Tugging on this length causes a grinding noise to reverberate from underneath the cabin.
Lifting the bath itself produces a deep humanoid-sized chute with clockwork gears wrapped about the opening.
Dropping a torch into the chute exposes a cavern of chopping blades at the very bottom.