#wifies'

───│↝𝐈𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 2 months, 62 days, 1488 hours, 89,280 minutes and 5,356,800 seconds since you have been sucked inside the yellow chambers.

You had been counting the seconds ever since you entered, it was the only way to keep you from going insane. The music kept playing in the background, yet you paid no mind. Flashes of possibilities enter your thoughts as you try to blur them out.

You didn't know how much you could take till you snapped. The isolation, it kept you up, you weren't scared because you were alone. You were scared because you were alone with 𝐢𝐭.

𝐈𝐭 stares at you, observing. Counting the days when you finally succumb to madness, but you stay strong and stubborn. Refusing to abide by its rule.

You got used to 𝐢𝐭𝐬 constant staring, maybe a month ago. You didn't know. Your eyes hurt by the same color, you had already forgotten what other colors looked liked. The world around your view bleeds yellow, and you can't help but stare at it.

You can hear 𝐢𝐭. The voices of the play. The emotions, whether it's sad, happy, angry, afraid or just something. Your breath quickens and slows, you flinch, and eyes darting everywhere. You looked like you were about to snap any moment.

Yet you refused. Despite the overwhelming anxiety, fear and anything you're feeling right now. You still held yourself, even if the darkness and insanity is slowly creeping in, tormenting you. But you had hope, because you can see. A vision. That something or someone is coming, and you waited.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 stares at the poor soul. Trembling, flinching, breathing heavily. He could almost laugh at their pathetic form, yet he didn't. He could see it, the past, the future, the possibilities of them. He is amused by their sheer willingness and determination not to succumb in insanity.

He smiled, although it cannot be seen behind his yellow long veil, a shadow cast over. No one has ever seen his face, better question yet, does he have one?

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 watched the poet, voice shaky, could not sing nor talk. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 watched, isn't it a poet's duty to sing for their king? Instead of ballads and songs, whimpers and breaths left their mouth.

"He's almost here..." The poet said, making 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 look at them, as he expected, because he knows they will. Although seeing it personally surprised him, only a little.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 hums, the place around shaking because of a simple sound of his voice. But you didn't pay attention, nor did you care. Because you also expected it, you have always expected it.

But you weren't always expecting things back then. Maybe that's the reason to what lead you to your present situation.

If had you not been so curious, so foolish, and so ignorant. Maybe this would have not happened. You were just a poet, wanting to be seen by your voice. Craving for attention that stumbling upon a message lead you to your demise.

Attention was given to you, but at what cost? The knowledge? The knowledge of many things that flooded into your mind, that all your unanswered questions and curiosity already answered? You are left with nothing. Everything already has an answer, so what else to think?

If you had been careful with you actions maybe you wouldn't even be in this place-!

𝐇𝐞'𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞.

The knight stood in front of the yellow golden door. His questions are gonna be answered, and it's beyond this door. But a voice echoes at the back of his mind.

The same voice that kept telling him to go back ever since he began his journey into this unknown world. Voice soft, yet it carries sorrowful and fearful words, as it sang to his ear. Warning him to not continue.

But that was the reason. The voice. He wanted to know who owned those gentle and soft voice, whose words were the opposite that were urgent and pleading. He wanted to know why was the voice wanting him to stop.

"Please leave. Don't open the door." The voice pleads again.

"But I wanna know who you are." He responds.

And so he pushed the door.

This is just a short oneshot about d3rlord3 from Wifies' Minecraft Arg "Finding a world that doesn't exist". Go check it out to understand the whole reason for this oneshot.

A little summary of the oneshot:

You're a poet, who craves to be seen. And just like d3rlord3, you are lured into solving mysteries and finding the golden door. You are stuck inside the gigantic door as the king's poet or the play's musician or voice.

You are also the voice that warns d3rlord3, about his actions. Since you are filled to the brim of knowledge of the past, present and future and all other things. You are aware of his existence and tried to warn him as much as possible to drive him away, not end in the same situation as you. But your voice only drives d3rlord3 into the mystery. So the seven times he turned left, is seven times you had told him to not go left.

I made the concept that the king in yellow, is either an entity or the second act of the play.

© skwxang