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Note: The following excerpts are from John Wick's much-anticipated

slim volume of Fragments of the King, a Preview from his website.
Having just downloaded this document, I can already tell that it will
be one of my favorites! I eagerly await the stories that will unfold!
Literally, here are a few mysterious Fragments of the once-banned
play, The King In Yellow! Say no more.




EDITOR’S NOTE: I found this post under Ryan’s account. It’s the
last thing he was working on before he left the site. I’m not too sure
what to make of it, but I thought it was an interesting read. Before
you start screaming about discrepancy, I noticed them, too. Like
how Ryan mentions eight pages but there are nine attached to the
post. Honestly, I’m not sure how much of this script is even real. All
of the emails he lists give bouncebacks now, I can’t find anyone who
heard about this investigation, our server doesn’t have a record of
any of the emails he cites, and since Ryan hasn’t cashed his last
paychecks, I doubt I’ll be able to reach him any time soon. That said,
the post below is unaltered. I know a lot of you were fans of his
investigations, so I didn’t tamper with his style.

Are you ready for this, Junkies? We get submissions all the time but
this one was something special. You might not see that at first, but
stay with me. This is the kind of story that’ll stick with you. My
investigation started with an unsolicited email that was caught by the
Film Junk spam overlord.

To: Film Script Junkies <submissions@film-junk.com>

From: n.tennyson85@smail.com
Date: Tue, Mar 10, 2015 at 7:06 AM
Subject: Horror Anthology Pilot (Circa 1987)

Last weekend my uncle passed away and I found a box of scripts in his
attic. Most of them were uninteresting but one did stand out. It rested at
the bottom of a box and was badly burnt. I read the few surviving pages
and I thought that your site would be interested. I can mail you the
remains of the script if you like. Perchance you can unearth the rest of this
gem for your reader’s pleasure.
- Neil Tennyson

A burnt manuscript? That’s some Indiana Jones level stuff! Of course,

I told Mr. Tennyson we were very interested. I was expecting a
scanned or faxed copy, but it seems that Mr. Tennyson is an old
school dude. He sent me, via meat mail, six unordered and charred
pages filled with some of the most pedestrian writing I’d seen.

Not only was the content boring but nothing about it screamed
“Horror Anthology Pilot” to me. It read like a bad Game of Thrones
knock off. I promptly threw the script into the bin next to my desk
and started working on my review of that new “Mr. Machine”
computer hacking drama-thriller.

A few days later I found scanned copies of the script on my computer.

I haven’t been sleeping well and in an ambien stupor I must have
pulled the script out of the bin and scanned it. I can’t tell you why, but
I shot copies over to our Senior Junkies to see if any of them wanted
to follow up on this story. One of our British friends, Chatto,
responded in minutes.

To: Junkie Ryan <RyDude@film-junk.com>

Date: Wed, Mar 18, 2015 at 1:13 AM
Subject: Re: Check it out...

Kill it. With fire. Burn it to ash. Burn the ashes. Scatter it to the winds.
I tried to get Chatto to explain but he’s stopped responding to my
messages. I dug deeper, spent long nights on Tor, and lost sleep. No
one knew anything. It was like I was asking if there was life on
Ganymede. After days and nights of no movement, the dam cracked.
A trickle of information about the origins of the script leaked out of
the deep web.

The script was written for one of the major premium cable networks.
In 1987 they started looking to expand their original content lineup.
Dozens of scripts came in and by 1989 they started production of a
pretty memorable and iconic series. The script I had, these few
burned pages, didn’t even make it to pilot.

Around this time I stopped checking in with Film Junk. Dan reached
out to check on me, to remind me I had other assignments slipping. I
had to set aside this rabbit hole. Except the damn thing kept popping
into my head. It was like I heard the opening to “Bohemian
Rhapsody” and couldn’t focus until I heard the whole song. Six burnt
pages. Content so offensive the studio ordered the only script
destroyed. Then I got my next lead.

To: Junkie Ryan <RyDude@film-junk.com>

Date: Fri, Apr 3, 2015 at 4:59 PM
Subject: Re: Horror Pilot from 1987

I’ve heard you have been digging into Mr. Scott’s script. You must stop. I
do not know how many pages past the unmasking you have but you must
get rid of all of it. Send me confirmation that you’ve destroyed the script,
and I will not take further action. If you fail to destroy that script, I will.

I wasn’t convinced that “A. Windsor” was even a real person, but then
I got the cease and desist. I, of course, complied. The last thing I
needed was legal trouble from a major cable network. For the third
time I threw this script in my desk. Then, a little over a week later I
woke up to find this email.

To: Contact Us! <mail@film-junk.com>

From: jack.scott@smail.com
Date: Mon, Apr 13, 2015 at 11:26 AM
Subject: <No Subject>
Thank you for contacting me about the remains of my screenplay. I would
greatly appreciate it if you would publish my work so the world can finally
see. I have two more salvaged pages. I have sent them to you.

An email from a guy that no one has heard from since 1987? My gut
said this was a fake email from Mr. Tennyson trying to convince me to
post his uncle’s failed pilot. Except… Why didn’t he send me the final
two pages to begin with? Then, in a couple of days, a package with no
return address arrived on my desk.

Inside there were two more pages, as burnt as the others. I sent it off
to our state of the art forensic lab and confirmed that they sure did
look a lot like the other pages. Then I read them and I understood. It
was like seeing for the first time. All of my worry and
doubt evaporated.

Dan’s been calling a lot lately but that’s fine. I’m not going to write for
Film Junk any longer. He can consider this my resignation. I know I
will be rewarded. When the world sees. There will be no choice. I
won’t need to worry. They won’t be able to touch me. No one ever
again. Once you see. You see.

Fragment One


Costumed and masked dancers move and twirl to a small orchestra

that sits in the wings.

CAMILLA, blonde and silver-eyed, mid-to-late twenties and beautiful,

stands in a balcony looking over the crowd.

CASSILDA, brunette and green-eyed, early twenties and gorgeous,

stands next to her sister in the balcony.

Do you think the Baron’s son will

He must. He simply must.

What if…

Do not be silly, little sister,
Baron Alar will be here or Father
will have his head.

There is a moment of silence as the sisters stand alone and

watch the dancers.

You will like him, Cassilda. Obviously,
you must like him, but he is
easy to like.

You have met him?

We met last summer in Alar.

I’ve never been to Alar! You’re
such a liar!

Fragment Two

But why, Father?

To ensure when Aldones passes,
which will be soon, the throne of
Carcosa passes to you. Our house is
on the brink of uniting Alar and
Hastur. If we bring Carcosa under
our reign, then all that remains is
to subjugate Yhtill.

I care not of Hastur or Carcosa.
I care less for the sickly people
of Yhtill. Alar has been good to
our family, why should we upset our
fortunes now?

UOTH stops in his tracks. THALE takes a few steps before he


Who will he will favor upon his return?
Do not answer, I shall tell
you. The dynasty that reigns over
the twin lakes. The prophecy is
clear. We must control Demhe and
Hali if we have any hopes of survival.

What prophecy? Of who do you speak
of Father?

UOTH’s gaze hardens on his son.

I speak of the {burnt}

Fragment Three

Song of my soul, my voice is dead;

Die thou, unsung, as tears unshed
Shall dry and die in

Lost Carcosa.
CASSILDA finishes singing and the crowd roars with applause.
THALE can be seen on the edge of the crowd listening intently.

Fragment Four

no choice.

It would seem so.

When should you like the announcement?

I see no reason to dally. Tonight?

After the masquerade then. Let them
have their fun for now.

You speak as though they will be
distraught at the news.

Do not pretend I am too old to see
what you are doing, Uoth. I know
what this means for my family. For
my dynasty. For my daughter.

It means your child will live.

It means I have betrayed

Fragment Five
CAMILLA approaches THALE from behind.

A most impressive voice, don’t you

THALE starts, looking flustered.

You must be Cassilda. My father

Oh no, I am Camilla.

You look…


THALE laughs.

Am I to assume you’ve come to sing
the virtues of your sister?

CAMILLA smiles slyly.

The song on my lips was of my own

THALE smile fades as CAMILLA moves closer.

I am to be betrothed to your
sister. This is hardly appropriate
My sister and I share much, more
than you could imag

Fragment Six

her way through the crowd.

The STRANGER, a man wearing the pallid and grotestic mask of

death, dressed in rags and tatters, turns to face CAMILLA.

You, sir, should unma

Fragment Seven

lood seeps under the door. The hem of a flowing silver dress
passes through it, red soaking into the fabric, smearing the blood
down the hallway.

(softly yelling)

(yelling intensifies)
Where are you, sister

Fragment Eight

olls across the floor, stopping at CASSILDA’s feet. She reaches down
and clutches it in her fist, unaware of what it is. As her fingers open
around it, the pupil moves. Eight hairy legs sprout across the iris
and th
Fragment Nine

CASSILDA runs into UOTH as he emerges from Aldones’ chambers.

Tears are streaming down her cheeks and UOTH catches her by the

What has happened, child? Where is
your sister?

CASSILDA looks up at UOTH as if frightened and stammers

something inaudible.

Speak clearly or else I can not

He wears no mask!

You talk nonsense, Cassilda!

(clawing at her own face)
No! My mas

Fragment Ten

ooking down into the courtyard where CASSILDA lies.

My poor child.

A voice breaks the darkness behind ALDONES.

Did you think to be human still?

ALDONES spins around to confront THALE.

You! You did this! How dar

Fragment Eleven



CASSILDA flees through the streets, pursued by the shadows of

an unseen figure.



CASSILDA bursts through the doors, slamming them shut behind

her. She rushes up to the altar.

NAOTALBA, a hooded man in his late sixties holding a chain, stands

at the altar.

Naotalba! Kind, generous Naotalba!
You must help me! He’s...

A loud bang on the church doors interrupts and NAOTALBA turns to

face CASSILDA, his face that of the pallid mask. From behind his
right eye something moves an... ...egs ... stab out fro... ...s.
CASSILDA backs away, trembling.

Not upon us, O King, not upon us!



CASSILDA’s agonized scream echoes through the city...

Fragment Twelve

hands pull and rip at CASSILDA’s clothing. She struggles, but

Fragment Thirteen


At daybreak, CASSILDA stands waist deep in the waters, wet and

nude. Behind her looms THE PHANTOM OF TRUTH.


Only once we unmask are we fit to
stand behind the King.

CASSILDA nods slowly and lifts a knife from below the murky waters.


You should unmask.

With her left hand, CASSILDA slides the knife in below the left ear
and slowly draws it along the jawline toward the chin. Reaching
across with her right hand, she gently fingers the seam before
sinking her fingers into the flesh. She wrenches the skin upward, like
how one removes a rubber mask, before collapsing into the water.
As her blood drifts away from her body, the brown of her hair also
begins to bleed, revealing platinum blonde. The green in her eyes
leaks out in tears leaving beautiful silver discs. After a moment, the
body of CAMILLA floats where CASSILDA once was.

(singing feebly)
Along the shore the cloud waves
break,The twin suns sink beneath
the lake,The shadows lengthen…

As CAMILLA fades, the skies turn dark and the stars r