The Play

The monk sat in his cave. He had ceased meditation and was now simply sitting, for the boy was expected to arrive. He seemed to be almost an hour late. Perhaps he would not come today, and there would be no food. Perhaps something had happened, and he would never come again, and perhaps they would send another, or perhaps there would never be food again....

"Hello, sir." Said the boy, suddenly arriving. "I'm sorry I'm late, but there was a great deal of excitement in the village today."

"Over what?" Said the monk

"Huh?" Said the boy, for the monk had never expressed interest in things of the outside world before. "Oh it's about a new play they're about to do. Apparently it's most dreadfully sinful. It's called "The yellow king."

"Hmm.." said the monk, glancing down at his saffron hued robes.

"Oh yes," The boy went on, excitedly, "It came all the way from France, and they never even performed it, but there where all sorts of riots and people getting killed just from reading the script, and so they tried to burn all of the copies, but somehow one of them got saved, and so now it's going to be performed for the first time right here in Thailand. And my parents say it's so bad that nobody who sees it can even tell me what it was about..."

"Oh, I will, if you like."

"You're going to see it? But.."

"Well, all things of te material world are sinful, especially plays. So if I'm going to see a play, I may as well see the most sinful play that was ever written."

"And you'll tell me all about it?"

"As long as you bring me my food on time."

The monk sat in the theater, unnoticed even in his saffron robes. The play began in a state of almost giddy excitement, which was soon replaced by an uneasy foreboding. By the second act the audience grew to dread each succeeding line, and yet none could move, so fixated where they by the ghastly spectacle unfolding. Even the actors felt the same way, but they could do nothing but act their parts, and indeed finer acting had never before been seen. And the final monologue confirmed all that the audience had been dreading throughout the performance, perhaps had been dreading their entire lives, and as a strange, unseen voice said those final words... "There is no face behind the mask", A madness of terror swept the theater, audience and performers alike, and they ran about, tearing at each other in their panic, each seeking to escape but unable to find the exit, unable even to discern between inside or outside, where indeed could they run that did not lay under the curse of the yellow king, for his words revealed the truth of their very existences.

Only the monk seemed unaffected. He still sat, smoking his pipe, and sighed

"And we've been trying to tell them that for ages."