Alberto D. Hetman
07-28-2009, 04:40 PM
"Wie will der Mensch dem Tod entrinnen, es sei denn, daß er nicht warte noch hoffe."
J. H. Obereits Besuch bei den Zeitegeln
Gustav Meyrink, 1915
The old man realized that he would have to bury it all by himself but he did not care much, if tonight by working more the pay would be double. And Holzknechl always paid. It was not the first time that he buried a dead all by himself.
The winter could be felt in the hands when the old man was holding the reins between his fingers without haste. Without shouting at his old mule, inheritance of his brother already dead years ago whom he barely remember. It was cold, but it was not snowing yet. Shortly after leaving Holzknechl’s house with his wagon and the coffin carelessly placed on it, he pulled the reins, giving to understand that his mule kept on moving. He did not think that it was going to snow that night.
The road, just two furrows in the ground, reached as far as the cemetery, continued further on, entered the forest, and the old man knew that behind those hillocks, perhaps 6 or 7 hours away, there was a city, Březina. Over the trees, a misty vapor that appeared before a snowfall began to be seen, and some said that it emanated from the land itself. And, although the sun was gone, a reddish light on the hillocks in the distance remained floating on the horizon for hours. Never falling the night, never going away the late afternoon.
Suddenly the wagon sank in a hole on the road. The old man stepped down cursing his bad luck and saw that the water in the hole was almost frozen. He shouted at his mule to move on, and pushing from behind the wagon yielded. In the hustle, the wagon moved toward a side and next toward the other trying to find its balance, and the coffin fell down. The wood on the side broke and the lid fell down edgeways. When watching it he was curious to know who was inside it, and coming closer he glanced at it.
Inside the coffin, his eyes found the body of a child. He did not seem to be dead. The lips were moving. He tried to push him although he found it repugnant to touch the dead, that was reserved for Holzknechl. "Can you hear me?" He asked the dead child. The child moved his lips as if he said something but no words came out of them. "How long ago would he have died?" He asked himself. "Whose child was this ...?" He had seen Holzknechl’s son alive watching him through the window, then, who was this child? He had brought the Doctor this same coffin from the cemetery; h e himself had dug it up a few days ago. The grave, however, was older, at least from 50 years ago. Would it be true what was said about Dr. Holzknechl?
He put it back on the wagon and returned to see him. His house was just a few minutes behind. When coming back and stepping down, a grumpy Holzknechl was waiting for him standing by the door, smoking his pipe. "Doctor," he said (he would not dare to call him by his last name), "the child is alive."
"Asshole", Holzknechl shouted at him. "I myself have chopped him up. Have the crows eaten your brain?"
"But Doctor... he moves his lips as if he wanted to say something to me." The old man affirmed.
"He's dead", Holzknechl told him. And putting his hand in his pocket he threw something to him, saying: "these are his eyes..."
The other moved to the side scared. He just saw one of the eyes sinking into the mud. He would guess at its color, or whether they were really the child’s eyes. They looked at each other and knowing that Holzknechl paid for his services, and always would, what did it matter to him to bury a dead or a living person, if he was paid.
He climbed back into his wagon and left without saying more; this time he shouted, insulting his old mule.
-o-
Holzknechl meditated upon that old gravedigger's ignorance. He needed him, yes, but he did not stop wondering if one day it would not be his turn to bury the old man. On the horizon, over the hillocks, a reddish light seemed to float without sinking an inch as the minutes went by. He put out his pipe, and entered his house.
On a rustic table which he called "desk" he saw that handful of handwritten sheets that he pushed toward a side, upset about something, without knowing why. He wondered where he should start from and opening a treatise on anatomy, to while away the time he looked at a plate depicting a heart. He said a few unintelligible words in a low voice, or in a language that nobody any longer understands, and closed the volume disturbed by his son's crying. What would his wife do not to get up and help him to fall asleep again? He called her but no one answered.
When opening the door to the room of his son, a very small room that for some unknown reason was always cold, he watched his son sleeping peacefully perhaps halfway through a dream. He imagined him dreaming of the stream, jumping over stones, or climbing on the fallen tree hanging over the water.
His child did not cry. However, the crying (although weak) could be heard perfectly well. He observed his son's lips and they were closed. He wanted to wake him up but he did not dare to do so, after all, what for? He had heard of the "ventriloquists", he had seen one in Prague a few months ago, he could almost talk without opening his mouth. Crying, however, was different. Would a ventriloquist be able to imitate a child crying? He guessed that he would not. What explanation did he have for the crying? For a few minutes it seemed to be barely audible, then he heard it again, clearly, but his son had his lips closed.
Outside, through the window, the evening finally seemed to have gone away. The darkness was almost absolute.
-o-
Holzknechl opened the door to his room without explaining himself yet what was happening to his son. When opening the door, he saw that his wife was convulsed, shaking herself toward a side, and toward the other. A thread of blood gushed forth from her open mouth. When he tried to touch her, she began to scream without opening her eyes, screaming, continuously, as if it were not a scream fed by the air of her lungs but rather it were coming out of her mouth without coming out of it. He hit her hard on the side of the face but she did not open her eyes. The bed itself seemed convulsed toward the sides. He could not do anything.
He stood by the door, and could hear the crying in his son’s bedroom; turning his head and watching his wife, he was d umbfounded. He remembered what the gravedigger said: "...his lips move", he did not remember the exact words, fragments that he tried to join hastily, "...he moves his lips as if he wanted to say something to me." And now, his son and his wife. He could not do anything for them. It would even be useless to tie his wife to bed, since the bed itself (he had already noticed it) moved with her.
Holzknechl returned to his desk, and before reaching it and a few meters from it, over his sheets, he saw a hand with his pen writing hastily. It was a hand that dripped blood, where it has been cut off, and a few drops carelessly stained the sheet.
He pushed the front door open, and went out to the night. He turned his head to both sides, something was bothering him. He felt a heat that started in the testicles, climbed up by his abdomen, ribs, trachea, and ended in his head, between his eyes. The heat was abrasive. He had to undress himself as quickly as possible, although the night was now so cold that water froze. Soon it was going to snow.
Suddenly he started to run. A question came to his mind: Where? He ran away without knowing why, perhaps not even being himself, to get lost among the trees of the forest. He pushed the branches with his arms, they lacerated the flesh. He continued running, and falling down, pushing the branches toward the sides. He heard the murmur of the nearby stream and continued running toward that side.
The night was so dark that one would hardly see his own hand.
-o-
"What do you want me to write Mr. Inspector?" One of the soldiers asked him.
"I'd rather dictate it to you", the Inspector said. He continued: "October 18, 1908, three bodies, no, correct it, four bodies were found on the property of Dr. Evzen Holzknechl. His own, that of his wife, and son, 6 years, perhaps?, and about one hundred meters away, on the road to a small cemetery, about 50 graves, a gravedigger dead on a wagon. At the same time it was found an open coffin on it, but it was empty. Dr. Holzknechl was found naked near a stream, about thirty meters from the house. His stretched arms, which had numerous cuts, add that the cuts seem to be too deep to be natural, with his head sunk in the water. He probably died drowned. Add also, all this would have happened three or four days ago."
He thought that perhaps the number of days could have been a week. Holzknechl was expected in Tabor a few days ago and when he did not show up, they sent him to get the Doctor. Holzknechl was a famous doctor in the whole area, attending sick people up to 150 miles away. He was also known by his association with the occultism. Hence the two lines found on one of his sheets, probably by his own handwriting, on these some stains of dried blood, witnessing violence or madness.
"What strange and unknown power can bring life back to the dead and take life away in consequence from the living..."
That morning the first snowflakes began to fall over the Inspector’s nose, who cleaned his face with a glove. While doing it he saw two eyes on the side, they were so clear that reflected the clouds. They were frozen in a puddle of water.
-o-
The bodies were buried in the cemetery, a hundred meters from Holzknechl’s house. The Inspector preferred not to write it on his report. Four graves had been previously desecrated. One of them had been dug up since the earth was piled up on one side, probably the coffin in the gravedigger’s wagon belonged to this grave. In the other three, the earth seemed to have sunk. When they decided to bury Holzknechl, and his family, in these three graves, they found they were empty.
J. H. Obereits Besuch bei den Zeitegeln
Gustav Meyrink, 1915
The old man realized that he would have to bury it all by himself but he did not care much, if tonight by working more the pay would be double. And Holzknechl always paid. It was not the first time that he buried a dead all by himself.
The winter could be felt in the hands when the old man was holding the reins between his fingers without haste. Without shouting at his old mule, inheritance of his brother already dead years ago whom he barely remember. It was cold, but it was not snowing yet. Shortly after leaving Holzknechl’s house with his wagon and the coffin carelessly placed on it, he pulled the reins, giving to understand that his mule kept on moving. He did not think that it was going to snow that night.
The road, just two furrows in the ground, reached as far as the cemetery, continued further on, entered the forest, and the old man knew that behind those hillocks, perhaps 6 or 7 hours away, there was a city, Březina. Over the trees, a misty vapor that appeared before a snowfall began to be seen, and some said that it emanated from the land itself. And, although the sun was gone, a reddish light on the hillocks in the distance remained floating on the horizon for hours. Never falling the night, never going away the late afternoon.
Suddenly the wagon sank in a hole on the road. The old man stepped down cursing his bad luck and saw that the water in the hole was almost frozen. He shouted at his mule to move on, and pushing from behind the wagon yielded. In the hustle, the wagon moved toward a side and next toward the other trying to find its balance, and the coffin fell down. The wood on the side broke and the lid fell down edgeways. When watching it he was curious to know who was inside it, and coming closer he glanced at it.
Inside the coffin, his eyes found the body of a child. He did not seem to be dead. The lips were moving. He tried to push him although he found it repugnant to touch the dead, that was reserved for Holzknechl. "Can you hear me?" He asked the dead child. The child moved his lips as if he said something but no words came out of them. "How long ago would he have died?" He asked himself. "Whose child was this ...?" He had seen Holzknechl’s son alive watching him through the window, then, who was this child? He had brought the Doctor this same coffin from the cemetery; h e himself had dug it up a few days ago. The grave, however, was older, at least from 50 years ago. Would it be true what was said about Dr. Holzknechl?
He put it back on the wagon and returned to see him. His house was just a few minutes behind. When coming back and stepping down, a grumpy Holzknechl was waiting for him standing by the door, smoking his pipe. "Doctor," he said (he would not dare to call him by his last name), "the child is alive."
"Asshole", Holzknechl shouted at him. "I myself have chopped him up. Have the crows eaten your brain?"
"But Doctor... he moves his lips as if he wanted to say something to me." The old man affirmed.
"He's dead", Holzknechl told him. And putting his hand in his pocket he threw something to him, saying: "these are his eyes..."
The other moved to the side scared. He just saw one of the eyes sinking into the mud. He would guess at its color, or whether they were really the child’s eyes. They looked at each other and knowing that Holzknechl paid for his services, and always would, what did it matter to him to bury a dead or a living person, if he was paid.
He climbed back into his wagon and left without saying more; this time he shouted, insulting his old mule.
-o-
Holzknechl meditated upon that old gravedigger's ignorance. He needed him, yes, but he did not stop wondering if one day it would not be his turn to bury the old man. On the horizon, over the hillocks, a reddish light seemed to float without sinking an inch as the minutes went by. He put out his pipe, and entered his house.
On a rustic table which he called "desk" he saw that handful of handwritten sheets that he pushed toward a side, upset about something, without knowing why. He wondered where he should start from and opening a treatise on anatomy, to while away the time he looked at a plate depicting a heart. He said a few unintelligible words in a low voice, or in a language that nobody any longer understands, and closed the volume disturbed by his son's crying. What would his wife do not to get up and help him to fall asleep again? He called her but no one answered.
When opening the door to the room of his son, a very small room that for some unknown reason was always cold, he watched his son sleeping peacefully perhaps halfway through a dream. He imagined him dreaming of the stream, jumping over stones, or climbing on the fallen tree hanging over the water.
His child did not cry. However, the crying (although weak) could be heard perfectly well. He observed his son's lips and they were closed. He wanted to wake him up but he did not dare to do so, after all, what for? He had heard of the "ventriloquists", he had seen one in Prague a few months ago, he could almost talk without opening his mouth. Crying, however, was different. Would a ventriloquist be able to imitate a child crying? He guessed that he would not. What explanation did he have for the crying? For a few minutes it seemed to be barely audible, then he heard it again, clearly, but his son had his lips closed.
Outside, through the window, the evening finally seemed to have gone away. The darkness was almost absolute.
-o-
Holzknechl opened the door to his room without explaining himself yet what was happening to his son. When opening the door, he saw that his wife was convulsed, shaking herself toward a side, and toward the other. A thread of blood gushed forth from her open mouth. When he tried to touch her, she began to scream without opening her eyes, screaming, continuously, as if it were not a scream fed by the air of her lungs but rather it were coming out of her mouth without coming out of it. He hit her hard on the side of the face but she did not open her eyes. The bed itself seemed convulsed toward the sides. He could not do anything.
He stood by the door, and could hear the crying in his son’s bedroom; turning his head and watching his wife, he was d umbfounded. He remembered what the gravedigger said: "...his lips move", he did not remember the exact words, fragments that he tried to join hastily, "...he moves his lips as if he wanted to say something to me." And now, his son and his wife. He could not do anything for them. It would even be useless to tie his wife to bed, since the bed itself (he had already noticed it) moved with her.
Holzknechl returned to his desk, and before reaching it and a few meters from it, over his sheets, he saw a hand with his pen writing hastily. It was a hand that dripped blood, where it has been cut off, and a few drops carelessly stained the sheet.
He pushed the front door open, and went out to the night. He turned his head to both sides, something was bothering him. He felt a heat that started in the testicles, climbed up by his abdomen, ribs, trachea, and ended in his head, between his eyes. The heat was abrasive. He had to undress himself as quickly as possible, although the night was now so cold that water froze. Soon it was going to snow.
Suddenly he started to run. A question came to his mind: Where? He ran away without knowing why, perhaps not even being himself, to get lost among the trees of the forest. He pushed the branches with his arms, they lacerated the flesh. He continued running, and falling down, pushing the branches toward the sides. He heard the murmur of the nearby stream and continued running toward that side.
The night was so dark that one would hardly see his own hand.
-o-
"What do you want me to write Mr. Inspector?" One of the soldiers asked him.
"I'd rather dictate it to you", the Inspector said. He continued: "October 18, 1908, three bodies, no, correct it, four bodies were found on the property of Dr. Evzen Holzknechl. His own, that of his wife, and son, 6 years, perhaps?, and about one hundred meters away, on the road to a small cemetery, about 50 graves, a gravedigger dead on a wagon. At the same time it was found an open coffin on it, but it was empty. Dr. Holzknechl was found naked near a stream, about thirty meters from the house. His stretched arms, which had numerous cuts, add that the cuts seem to be too deep to be natural, with his head sunk in the water. He probably died drowned. Add also, all this would have happened three or four days ago."
He thought that perhaps the number of days could have been a week. Holzknechl was expected in Tabor a few days ago and when he did not show up, they sent him to get the Doctor. Holzknechl was a famous doctor in the whole area, attending sick people up to 150 miles away. He was also known by his association with the occultism. Hence the two lines found on one of his sheets, probably by his own handwriting, on these some stains of dried blood, witnessing violence or madness.
"What strange and unknown power can bring life back to the dead and take life away in consequence from the living..."
That morning the first snowflakes began to fall over the Inspector’s nose, who cleaned his face with a glove. While doing it he saw two eyes on the side, they were so clear that reflected the clouds. They were frozen in a puddle of water.
-o-
The bodies were buried in the cemetery, a hundred meters from Holzknechl’s house. The Inspector preferred not to write it on his report. Four graves had been previously desecrated. One of them had been dug up since the earth was piled up on one side, probably the coffin in the gravedigger’s wagon belonged to this grave. In the other three, the earth seemed to have sunk. When they decided to bury Holzknechl, and his family, in these three graves, they found they were empty.