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The dead body began to move! First, came a few desperate murmurs which escalated into an exhausted, howling groan. The fingers spread apart and stretched themselves out in all directions, and then both arms began to flap uncontrollably. The head thrashed from side to side while the bellowing groans escaping from its throat sank into a guttural gargling. Its legs found the same strength as the arms and aroused themselves out of its slumber and started to kick the edges of the casket.

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    The resurrection of this poor soul was the work of Elias Van Witt, an inventor from New York City whose home and workshop were located on West 96th Street, very close to Central Park. Elias had learnt the inventing trade from his father, Julius, who was from a long line of inventors going all the way back to New Amsterdam. Elias’s workshop was kept in order by his wife, Dorothy, who was his part-time assistant and a part-time fashion stylist. Dorothy was far more sociable than Elias and often overheard the grievances of local tradesmen which she fed back to Elias, who would then scramble to fix their problems with a handy invention. It was quite a team they made, and they had a good reputation about town.

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    The body in the casket, however, was of Margaret Blythe, a local beauty and socialite who had unexpectedly died of fever a few days ago. She was a close friend and client of Dorothy’s and Dorothy, had spent much of her time following Margaret around the city, dressing her for illustrators and photographers to capture her portrait. Margaret was very much at the height of her celebrity and featured regularly on the front page of all the popular magazines. To say that Margaret was in high demand would be a massive understatement and Dorothy could attest to this, for the work was abundant, secure, and very lucrative. Margaret’s unexpected demise shocked the country, Dorothy most of all; She was mourned from coast to coast, every painter and photographer wept at the loss of their favourite subject, some even grieving in unconventional ways to express their despair.   

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     However, it was Elias who had seen an opportunity in this tragedy, for among many of his crafty little inventions he had been working on a secret project. A project that involved mixing, brewing, and boiling what he believed would be his ‘greatest triumph,’ a potion that could in theory, return the dead back to the world of the living. Some years ago, Elias had travelled extensively through the jungles of Borneo and Malaya and had been introduced to an exotic variant of plant species, one that had been rumoured among the native tribes to rejuvenate the dead. He initially laughed it off as local superstition, but his curiosity overwhelmed his scepticism and he smuggled an herbarium of these plant specimens back to New York for experimentation, to put his potion on trial against three deceased arachnids and one bludgeoned pigeon - Four subjects, four scientifically tested trials equated to four successful experiments, the dead had returned! The resurrected spiders scurried around in their mason jars while the pigeon fluttered around in the dusty rafters. Elias had every intention of proceeding slowly and responsibly with his new-found concoction, but then the news of poor Margaret reached his ears, and he could not resist. Dorothy was horrified after Elias revealed his desires to her, but eventually came around to the idea; The thought of never speaking to Margaret again was far too much for her to bear, so she came to Elias in the dead of night and surrendered herself in support of his ideas.

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   So, under the cover of darkness they paid the undertakers at the cemetery to remove Margaret’s casket from its ornate tomb. Their friend and handyman, an abnormally large fellow called Ezra, heaved it back to their house and up to Elias’s workshop. For any man of normal size this would have been a troublesome effort, but for Ezra it was as difficult as helping an old lady with her grocery bags, his size complimenting his immense strength. Ezra set the casket down in Elias’s spacious workshop and begged to have no more part in this, and then took his leave. Elias’s workshop took up the entire top floor of their house, one that Elias and a private construction crew, as corrupt as they come, tore off the roof and replaced it with a glass one. He was proud of this extension, for light was easily able to flood the workshop, providing a healthy dose of sun to his herbarium, one that consisted of a plethora of rare plants, exotic flowers, and rare orchids he had collected from the jungles of the world. Spoilt on rich healthy soil, consistent watering and foliage treatment, the hungry plants had invaded each and every corner of the workshop, had fingered their vines through the cracks in the windows and slid down the side of the house which attracted curious colonising insects. His workshop now resembled more of a distant jungle found on his travels than an organised workspace, with birds and butterflies casually fluttering among the colourful flowers and vines that lovingly cuddled the interior. The house was an eccentric dwelling and often attracted the attention of neighbours, labourers and unfortunately, law enforcement who regularly enquired about Elias’s latest inventions and endeavours.  

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    Within the workshop, Elias carefully dripped eight drops of the potion into the blue mouth of poor Margaret, and hastily ran back to stand with his wife just around the corner. Elias had no idea how long the remedy would take to work as the pigeon had taken a couple of hours to find life again - Margaret was significantly larger than a pigeon so logically, Elias had decided use eight drops of the potion instead of a delicate two. Like a ranger in the wild west he was in uncharted territory, this was the most he had ever used on a subject, anything could happen within the attic of his house, and he stepped away, shrugging while pressing a corked lid onto the glass vial of his potion.

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     However, as soon as he reached his wife, standing by the big, sliding door, Margaret’s fingers began to move! The pair heard a shuffling in the casket and Dorothy screamed, pointing excitedly to the shuddering body. A cold sweat emerged on Elias’s forehead as he heard the groans coming from Margaret’s lips. Despite desiring the fame and fortune he associated with mending death, Elias swiftly realised that this attractive avenue of prospects had overwritten everything that would, and should come after a successful resurrection, for there was no following protocol, no contingency plan set in place should anything go awry, he’d simply no idea of how to handle a recently rejuvenated corpse waking up on his workshop table under a glass ceiling, and now it was all happening so very fast right before his eyes.

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    ‘My goodness.’ He said with a gobsmacked expression. Margaret’s groaning had now intensified, and Dorothy had now gone from being excited to sobbing loudly.

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    ‘Oh, Margaret.’ Dorothy stuttered. She held her hand to her mouth to stop herself from bursting out crying. Elias watched with morbid fascination and they both jumped back with fright when Margaret began to loudly kick the casket, a casket lined with the finest silk and decorated with fluffy white cushions.

Margaret’s body still looked relatively healthy, her hair was still thick and enriched with a golden glow, her skin was as pink as it was when she was alive. The woman had only been in the ground for less than twenty-four hours, so decomposition had not the time it needed to erode her human avatar, but rigor mortis had set in. Margarets father had paid handsomely to have his daughter fitted into the finest ruby red dress money could buy, a dress embroidered with a tapestry of foliage weaving into thirsty roses in bloom. The livery had been selected by her best friend Dorothy of course, as had her make-up been applied by her very hand, in the way Margaret was most comfortable with when going out for a night on the town.

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    But now, Margaret’s flamboyant corpse was thrashing around wildly in a casket oddly more comfortable than most traditional beds. She kicked like a horse; Her hands gripped the wooden rim of the box as she attempted to pull herself up! Elias hesitantly stepped forward as a makeshift plan hesitantly formulated inside his racing head, and as he approached, peering into the casket, he could see Margaret’s eyes open widely! She turned her head, battling the rigor mortis to look at him, and she fell eerily silent, her arms and legs grinding to a steady halt... 

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The full story is available as part of the novella A Tree-mendous Scandal In Central Park & Other Stories, released October 2024 on Amazon.