Answer:
You throw me away, I find my way back. Traditionally, I'm wooden with an arch in my back. What am I?
I am in truth a yellow fork from tables in the sky by inadvertent fingers dropped the awful cutlery. Of mansions never quite disclosed and never quite concealed the apparatus of the dark to ignorance revealed.
What happens when you throw a green stone into the Red Sea?
I can wake you up in the morning but I require no electricity or winding.
A single syllable do I claim black was my most famous name; Fetal to mortals here below thousands have I slain in a single blow.
What do you purposefully put lots of in and on your body, but run away from when you encounter it outside?