Voodoo Holmes Stories

thinking that we would all be bones a hundred years from now, so there is no iniquity involved when it comes to life. What remains are calcium and silica taken away by the wind and immersing itself into the earth's crust again. Minerals from which we were once formed.
    When the nurse had left the room, I positioned myself in front of the women, lifted my arms dramatically twice like a silent exclamation, and then lowered them. Then, I lifted both arms in a more subdued way. Next, my right arm shot up, came down. I paused. Then, a dramatic lifting of both arms. Another pause. Finally, standing on my left leg, I raised my right leg twice, put it down. All this time, I observed the women. There was no response.
    I turned around, loosening my limbs like a boxer, relaxing, before I turned back to the beds of the dying ladies, raised my arms twice, then my left arms, both arms twice, shook my right leg violently, paused, then shook it again, but more softly, and stopped.
    After a short pause, both arms up dramatically, then more subdued. Right arm up, down, up again. Both arms up dramatically, then subdued. Short pause. Right leg shaking, once.
    While I was busy doing this, I looked for reactions, but the ladies in question remained motionless on their beds, pale, cold creatures more dead than alive. Their eyes closed and their mouths open they looked as if they were breathing something toxic instead of plain air. One of them was slightly better off than the others. Maybe because her long hair was fuller and the waxy sheen of her face was a shade less pronounced. Or maybe that was because she was the closest to where I stood which was also closer to the light which was right above my head.
    I continued by lifting my arms, then pausing, then lifting my left arm half-heartedly twice, then decisively, then pausing, then shaking the right leg like a cat does when it has stepped on something unpleasant. Or a dog intent on doing his business.
    Next, arms up twice. Then again. Right arm up, flinging it wildly. Pausing. Then both arms up, pausing. Right leg, twice. Pausing, gagging the ladies for any kind of reaction. There was none.
     
    Having refreshed myself at a nearby tea shop, I returned to the hospital ward around midnight. In the interim, one of the women had died. They had shoved her into a broom closet somewhere and I stood within its confines for a few minutes, observing the motionless face of her corpse by the light of a candle. Afterwards, I positioned myself in front of the four remaining women and repeated my ritual, glad for the late hour. This time, after I had performed the convulsions of the third day, the full-haired lady responded. Her right leg moved under the bed, a tiny jiggle, almost unperceived. I thought that I might have imagined it. But as I had completed the fifth day's convulsions, I noticed that her breath had returned to normal. She no longer appeared to be dying but sleeping, which was a marked change all the more noticeably when comparing her to her neighbours, who were clearly on their last lap.
    I lingered in their proximity for a while, but when there were no more developments, I sidled out and went to the club where I buried myself in my favourite cushions.
    I had spent two hours here around noon today dozing. Now, with the lights down and a handful of forgotten snorers around, sleeping conditions were much more amenable. Some time later, I awoke with a start when somebody sneezed and then a waiter quietly asked who had ordered a glass of tonic.
    It was almost four o'clock when I had ambled back to the hospital, and positioned myself in front of the dying ladies. There were only three remaining. I did not bother looking for signs of life in a broom closet anymore, but remained where I was. And I was glad that I did, because a minute later, the full-haired lady opened her eyes and asked: „Are you real?“
    „ Excuse me?“
    „ May I touch you?“
    I moved forward, taking her hand. „My name is Holmes“, I said, „I am glad you are feeling better.“
    „ Holmes?“ she asked, „of the Holmes' of Bath?“
    „ No, madam, I don't think there is a relation there.“
    „ But you must be. You look so much like them.“
    I studied her. There was no question about it: Life had returned to her. She looked fit enough to bet up and walk out of the hospital.
    „ I am Lady Bracknell of Kerrington Hall in Trowbridge in Wiltshire. I am sure you must have seen it. It is quite beautiful.“
    „ I