The_Resurrectionist_The_Lost_Work_of_Dr

* * *
August 1900
Bernard,
I must express my gratitude, insomuch that your foreboding of my certain demise
can only attest to your love and most heartfelt concern for me. I had time to
consider in depth that which you have instructed me, years ago, regarding what to
pay heed to whilst I continue my work further. I trust I will be in your debt and I
thank you––though I admit I would be grateful if in matters of peril and
premonitions of gloom that you were not a sophist but indeed a fool.
Dear brother––you preserved your life, you coveted it; it was impossible for you
to continue in medicine with sickness and death all around, you needed to pursue a
quieter science––I understand.
You steadily follow the guidance of the learned; you read what you have been
instructed to read. You are like a child at practice on a piano. You balance a stick
on the backs of your hands just along the knuckles while you play, ensuring proper
posture. Then you play something bland and unimaginative; however, the stick will
never fall to the floor, bravo! When I perform, the stick falls, then a symphony flows
from me.
* * *
—Black
October 1901
Bernard,
I am no longer performing, or traveling. I now indulge in the luxury and leisure
of my home. I am no longer in the service of man.
You must know these creations can mean nothing to you nor any other educated
man as they meant nothing to me until they were there, on a table before me. Their
fatal wounds visible, the hollow in their gaze that no taxidermist could create. No
artist or magician is able to conjure the sincerity that only life can bring to the
eyes. Bernard, I tell you, I now have them. They live.
I understand if you have concerns for my welfare. In time, after my research is
complete, I will unveil my discovery. I am as confident as the sun is bright that you
won’t be disappointed. All is progressing well with little disruption; I pray heaven
not change that, I cannot afford a disturbance. My time now is vital, and how long I
need I could never know.
I trust that you have, by this point, received the gift I sent to Samuel and I hope
that all is in good order with you and my most gifted child. His well-being is
certainly my greatest wish, and a promising future I am certain is assured whilst he
remains in your steady care.
Please forgive my flattery as I am writing on a rare occasion of delight and
rejoicing and all seems wonderful; the only dread, I suppose, is that I am restrained