My uncle and I had a visceral loathing for one another … In my childhood when he came to visit, he would chide my parents incessantly for spoiling me, accusing them of instilling in me nothing but bad qualities, many invented even, and this caused no end of consternation in our family. – He saw nothing good in me; “even though he’s still young you can already see the wickedness in him and the glimmer of murder in his eyes!” he often said, and other than him no one else ever said such things about me – curious enough! … But I have to say, I didn’t let his venomous hostility get under my skin: any feelings of vengeance I might have harbored against him for his interminable animosity and ugliness were suppressed. The mere thought of him was enough to ruin my mood for a long time; his presence made me want to retch; and if he touched me, my skin would literally burn for long after. –

What made him repulsive, of course, was his appearance and temperament. – He was a miser in its purest form, a bachelor, a wealthy merchant, possessing an iron constitution, tough as nails. – My parents were poor. Only once did financial straits force my father, his brother, to ask for a loan of 100 florin. He received this answer: “I could lend you 50 but only if you sign a promissory note and find a guarantor! If you don’t want to do that, I’ll give you three florin in the spirit of generosity …” –

My parents died while I was studying medicine. The inheritance was enough to live on for nearly a year … Then I was forced to earn money while continuing my studies … I would have done justice to both – I have the spirit and the will, but also an overwhelming desire for knowledge – and whenever that’s present, one has to live at the expense of the commonplace, the practical. – So I served three masters – where it was incumbent on me to serve only one. Frayed nerves and mental imbalance were the consequences.

My choice was either to dedicate myself entirely to writing, or something of that ilk – or to stab myself to death – or to go hat in hand to my uncle, my sole relative – whose universal heir by law, incidentally – was me. – And to be completely honest, it would’ve been much easier for me to do the second than the third. – Only the courage to overcome everything convinced me to pay Uncle a visit – and of course take a different tack. –

I arrived as he was dining on greasy potatoes slathered in smelly tallow. – He listened with unconcealed joy as I related my hardship. – “I would never trouble you if I were in good health,” I ended. And in a paternal tone he replied:

“Dear Stanislav, I am fond of you, even if you have always despised me. Even as a young child you just scowled at me with nary a greeting. And since it behooves me to treat you as family, I will give you a piece of advice more valuable than any money: Rely only on yourself, keep fighting and suffering, for it is the arduous trials that improve a person most. So if your mental state is poor, be done with useless thoughts and wicked dreams and you will immediately regain your health! When you have won this struggle and are able to support yourself, come to me again and then perhaps I will be of a mind to provide you with enough support to allow you to complete your doctorate. Be that as it may, I will not let you leave today empty-handed: I will cover your travel expenses and give you four – actually five – florin, praise be to God! And you can stay here the night for free – and if you’re hungry – you could finish these potatoes, they’re truly tasty, but I’m stuffed.”

Such kindness and generosity exceeded, seriously! all my expectations, as modest as they were. – I ate the potatoes out of gratitude – and when my good uncle had left the room, I stuck a very sharp oak splinter into one of his old shoes. I didn’t think much would come of it. – Nor did I hear anything afterward.

•

I quit studying medicine and took a position as a clerk where my time was wholly occupied with adding and subtracting, all my nobler aspirations brutally bottled up inside me. Thanks to this, two months or so passed reasonably well. – But ultimately my spirit so broke down by this unnatural activity that one day I needed a good ten minutes to add up six five-digit numbers. I resigned my position and told myself: “I have to decide by tomorrow evening, either I become a day laborer or shoot myself or –”

The following day I received a court summons. And that gave my wretched brain a new idea: to commit a political crime. “It will give me several months of secure existence, my spirit will have some respite, and I might become a political martyr in the eyes of the nation and interesting in the eyes of women” – and in a burst of brio I made up my mind to utter aloud that night something exceptionally treasonous in a tavern known to be frequented by the secret police –

In a carefree mood, almost dancing, I hurried off to the court. “We have been looking for you,” an official affably greeted me. “Don’t worry – please take a seat. A court summons is generally not associated with anything pleasant, but the matter for which you were summoned could hardly be considered unpleasant for you. In view of the fact that your uncle, Mr. V., did not leave a will, you are by law the universal heir to his estate, estimated at some 300,000 florin.”

“He’s dead?” –

“My God, you did not know? You’re so pale – may I offer you a glass of wine? He passed over a month ago – sepsis, from being jabbed by a nail or a thorn or something sticking up in his shoe. Please, have another glass –”

“Poor Uncle! …”

“God bless your heart, sir! Another might have no thought but for the inheritance – God bless you! Especially since by all accounts it seems the deceased was not too fond of you. – Many times he would say that you would not inherit a single heller. He did not draw up a final testament because he believed until the last that he would recover and the very act of drawing one up would just invite death. Only at the very end did he cry out: testament … The writing implements were brought to him – but he could no longer speak a single intelligible word or control his hand. After a few minutes of desperate effort he lost consciousness and never regained it –”

•

I spent the following months immersed in medical studies, and out of exuberance I decided to take my remaining exams at once, even though I would have needed at least another year of study to properly prepare. – Hardly a more cheerful and poorly prepared candidate had ever appeared for an oral exam. But by sheer coincidence I was asked the one question I knew the answer to, and so I became a doctor –

Lucky for patients that I had no thought of taking the bread from other doctors’ mouths. “I’m free! I’m finally my own!” my soul rejoiced as I took the train to the villa where my deceased uncle had occupied the shabbiest room, having rented out and so forth. I intended to summer there.

•

Thus far I had not felt any so-called pangs of conscience. On the contrary, I felt only the joy of vengeance gratified! But when I was surrounded by the walls between which I had seen the fiend many times, walls saturated with his breath, his spirit, the thing turned its other, terrible face toward me, and suddenly all the ugliness of my situation grinned at me.

Now what had been his was mine! … Now I enjoyed what he used to enjoy. Now it was my spirit’s lot to constantly touch what had constituted the virtual essence of that dead abomination. Now it was my lot to live side by side with what, poisoned by him, reminded me of his presence with each and every step. Now I lived off what the hated, despised man had earned, feeding off the monster, whose gaze once made my stomach turn. I was now irrevocably yoked to what I had found the most repulsive, worse off than a man hitched to an old hag … I could only compare it to one thing: the thought that I might be buried in the same grave with him – And – –

What’s that drifting over me from the murky ceiling? – Do I hear a faint moan in the distance?

I would have instantly left the villa if it were not for spineless fear – I couldn’t shut my eyes the entire night. The furniture creaked, I seemed not alone in the room, several times I quickly turned around, dagger in hand, having had the ghastly illusion that someone was touching me. But I persuaded myself to make it through at least this one night, because I understood it would be lunacy to live here any longer. –

Yet I didn’t flee my inner ghost. My soul continued to be menaced by the thought, “I am inseparably bound to that loathsome corpse”… Soon everything became contaminated for me, because everywhere I looked, it all came from Uncle’s money –. The garments resting on my skin, the cherries I bought, the book I was reading: all of it brought to mind the most hideous stain on my life. It was pathological, since it was abnormal, albeit natural as well. If we find it disgusting to wear the clothes of a repulsive dead man, in essence isn’t it just as disgusting to buy a knife with his money? I told myself in vain that his property, his money, the things bought with it, have little in common with him, that it is, after all, part and parcel of natural law to live off what has been plundered from the vanquished; the mental associations lay so deep that they resisted, and grew – with horror I realized they were dragging me into the abyss of madness. So much for the freedom I had hoped to find! My disgust and sickness continued to feed this trepidation of having been robbed – every sound terrified me, every man coming toward me seemed to be the murdered man. I did not sleep all night, expecting at any moment the brush of a ghostly arm – and if I did fall asleep, I would indeed feel it touch me in dream –

If it had not been for the inheritance, I felt he would have lost all power over me. I knew I could escape madness at once – if I would just rid myself of Uncle’s wealth. But wouldn’t that just mean crashing into Scylla? Given my mental disposition, wasn’t there a likelihood that if I gave it all up without reservation I would fall back into the wretched state I was in before the court summons arrived? Where would I get the funds to establish a medical practice? Or make a name for myself as a writer? For that I was too honest and pure – and clever.

At last I took action. I furiously submitted to all and sundry periodical and used the remuneration on lottery tickets, promissory notes, sweepstakes. – Yet my madness continued to grow – until despair strained my will to the very breaking point – with the utmost rigor I concentrated my will on overcoming my passions and dissipation –

And I was victorious! It’s possible my illness, consumed by its own blaze, would have been alleviated regardless – the important thing was that before too long I was practically cured. – Only rarely did the residues of my madness echo like the distant rumble of a thunderstorm. – “I’m free, finally liberated by my own strength!” my soul again rejoiced.

•

It was a gloomy autumn dusk. I was returning to town from a long walk. – Since I was tired, I sat down on a rock next to the road and looked into a quarry, whose peculiar, mysteriously sad desolation always inadvertently caught my eye. – And I became lost deep in thought … It was silent as the grave and not a soul anywhere –

I sat there a long time. – I was barely aware of the sound of footsteps behind me – they grew distant on their way toward town, then not heard at all – I jerked to and got up … and cheerfully continued on my way. – A man was walking around two-hundred steps ahead of me –

I caught up to him, and noticed that his hunched posture and the way he walked, with both knees bending with every step as if he were about to lunge, resembled my uncle’s … And his long gray hair was also like Uncle’s … Gripped by a faint fear, I wondered darkly if I should overtake him. “Ugh,” I said to myself. “You can’t appear to me anymore, you abomination! I’m no longer afraid, so hallucinating is out of the question! As long as you let fear reign inside you, then you not only can but inevitably will see ghosts. I have this foolproof method for anyone with such a wish: if you are in a dark room and fear the dead will place a hand on your shoulder, then fan that fear into a burning blaze. Yet now I have no fear, my mood stable and poised. Even if this man does resemble Uncle – no reason to be frightened; aren’t there any number of people who look like one another? Superstition is so stupid!”

The stranger did not look back. – By the time I caught up with him I had entirely forgotten my suspicions so that I could squarely look into his face as calmly as I would with anyone I happen to encounter. The spirit drained from my body, and if a tree hadn’t been next to me, I would’ve collapsed –

The old man’s face betrayed shock as well. “Why are you – so terrified?” he said – in a voice that was the very voice of my dead uncle –

“Who – are you?” I practically screamed –

“What? have you lost your mind, young sir? – I am an honest man by the name of Martin Soukup, and my status is that of commercial traveler. A sales representative, if you will, for the world-renowned wine merchant Samuel Prdeles. I see you fashion yourself a noble gentlemen, so please allow me to take the liberty on this auspicious occasion to offer you a price list –”

These words naturally had a calming effect on me. Despite that, I recoiled from his hand holding the price list out to me. “Forgive me – but you are the spitting image of a relative of mine.”

“Is that so? Haha! Well maybe I am him, maybe I am the relative of this handsome young sir –”

“He’s dead –”

“In that case, I hardly resemble him at all. – What a pity … Ah, now I understand, haha! It is indeed a horrible shock when you meet someone who resembles the deceased. – I know it, too, I do. I had an aunt who died. She had a sister who was just a whisker’s breadth from her double, actually, that’s not true, because she had whiskers almost like yours, esteemed sir, and she had a squished nose whereas my dead aunt had a beak, just sprinkle some seeds for her – but the living aunt also had a beak once, until a lover made it a pancake, a good whack he gave her, I saw it myself … They put her up to scaring me, put wax on her pancake of a nose, shaved her, dressed her up like my dead aunt, and one night she came to me – and I, as I stood, found myself sitting on the floor and didn’t even know how I got there. So, young sir, your reaction is hardly surprising!”

I laughed, all the anxiety left me. “How stupid it is to believe in the supernatural!” I shouted and took the price list. But I was again seized by terror when I looked at the salesman, even though now I could see certain differences between the two faces – “I’ll be sure to place an order,” I said hurriedly. “Good evening, Mr. Soukup!”

“Why don’t we walk together, young sir? Surely you’re also headed to town –”

“I’m in the habit of walking fast.”

“Well then, I will pick up the pace!” And with a skip he was now at my side – I acquiesced but, again overcome with horror, immediately regretted it. We walked for a while in silence. He then said:

“Please forgive me, young sir! I have told you about me, would you be so kind as to tell me your status?”

“You would be doing me a great service if you could tell me.”

“Really? Hehe! But please, don’t joke around.”

“Well then, since I’m such a kidder, I will tell you that my status is a man of independent means.”

“In-de-pend-ent means? Oh – oh – oh! Such a young, healthy, handsome gentleman! Forgive me for saying, but that is simply unacceptable!”

“Why should I use crutches when I have two perfectly healthy legs?”

“Haha! But a young gentleman such as yourself should be industrious!”

“And by industrious you mean earning money?”

“Oh – oh! young sir, we misunderstand each other! Take it from me, sir: plan for your old age! money is hard to come by and easy to squander –”

“Well that’s a bit insolent. When someone has three hundred thousand he doesn’t need to fear destitution! He could fritter away maybe two hundred and fifty thousand and still have enough left, if he isn’t some maniac, to live comfortably till the day he dies.”

“Three hundred thousand! It was at least three hundred and fifty! Well, young sir, once you got your hands on the inheritance did you become a sluggard right away? Why are you so white?”

“How do you know this?” I shouted tempestuously –

“I know enough about you, haha! Why so jumpy? I’ve seen you three times in town and inquired about your status and situation. Forgive me for feigning ignorance –”

“So that’s it!” I sighed and wiped away sweat – “What a jackass I am! I still cannot get it out of my head that you’re my dead uncle!”

“Maybe you have a guilty conscience? Oh, young man, you are on the wrong path! Do you believe in God then?”

“Impertinent man, I know what I know and don’t have to believe in it. If I were to persuade myself that I know something I don’t know – which is faith – then I would be deluding myself, and there is nothing noble in that!”

“Ah, so you’re a nonbeliever! This is the root of all evil – and sloth too – Heed the advice of an old man and work hard so that when you reach old age –”

“Old fool, if you don’t stop this I will leave you at once! Keep your advice to yourself, gray salesman. If only half the energy I devote to nobler pursuits was exerted on the dirty job of making money, then without a doubt I would be a millionaire by the time I reached your age.”

“Ah, young sir! I was not always as poor as I am today! I was a wealthy man, but a wicked person took everything from me. I knew him since he was a child, and recognized at once that only the gallows awaited him. He was worthless as a boy, even then he didn’t believe in God, and murder glimmered in his eyes – But you’re still frightened, maybe it would be better if you took a different road than I –”

“No!” I roared. “Continue with your story!”

“He was my nephew. His parents were too kindhearted and spared him the rod, that was the trouble! He should’ve been mine! I advised my sister to no avail: tan his hide raw –”

“Sister? What a fool I’ve been! Well, go on, you old gasbag – and to hell with you, whoever you are!”

“What a beaut he turned out to be. In no time he ran through the money he inherited from his parents and came to his uncle hat in hand. Rather than immediately showing him the door I treated him to a feast and gave him 50 florin.”

“Try without the zero! And you mean the greasy potatoes in tallow fit for shoe polish?” I screamed and clutched my dagger.

“Quite excellent tallow! And fifty florin it was!” he insisted. “And you know how he repaid me? He stuck a splinter soaked in poison in my shoe –”

“You worm, why the lie that you’re a salesman?” I bellowed full of demented courage and drew the dagger.

“I haven’t lied, laddie! I nearly died, maybe it seemed I was dead – and this scoundrel bribed doctors to declare me dead – and when I came to he had me whisked away to America, not a groschen in my pocket. So without any money to make it back to Europe, I had to make a living there, working in sales – but given how prudently I manage my finances, woe to that reprobate! I’ll appear like a meteor, the truth will come out –”

“You idiot, you can stop with this farce! If you really think you didn’t die I assure you you’ve been rotting in the grave for a long time now – and if you’re not just a hallucination of mine then you exist in the realm of shadows or somewhere else!”

“I know all too well, you villain!” the sneak shouted in a voice now different than before. “I did indeed die and now I know that I am immortal, that above us is God, who punishes sin. Wastrel! I have always hated you, murderer! You killed me and now my hard-earned fortune you’ve …^[1] [He didn’t finish speaking. My dagger pierced his heart. And like a madman I ran off toward town …]

^[1] The manuscript breaks off here. The story originally appeared as “Já a strýc,” in the posthumous collection Slavná Nemesis a jiné příběhy [Slavná Nemesis and Other Stories] (Prague: Sfinx, Bohumil Janda, 1932) with a continuation of five paragraphs taken from a different text with all proper names removed to generalize it. The bracketed text at the end was added posthumously along with the extra paragraphs and a short concluding section, likewise apocryphal, that explains the tale was found in a diary belonging to a young man among the papers of his doctor at a hospice. The translation (save the bracketed end) follows the manuscript version in vol. V of the Collected Works, where it appears under the title “Já a strýc můj” sans the posthumously added text.

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Visions & Apparitions: Selected Tales of the Uncanny by Ladislav Klíma, tr. Jed Slast, is forthcoming from Twisted Spoon Press. You can order a copy here.

Ladislav Klíma was born August 22, 1878, in the western Bohemian town of Domažlice. He settled in Prague’s Smíchov district where he wrote his first work in 1904, The World as Consciousness and Nothing (published anonymously and at his own expense), in which he makes the case that “the world” is nothing but a fiction. This theme is also explored in his fictions, chief among which are The Sufferings of Prince Sternenhoch and Glorious Nemesis. His other major philosophical works are compilations of shorter texts : Tractates and Dictations (1922) and A Second and Eternity (1927). While only part of Klíma’s oeuvre was published during his lifetime, numerous manuscripts were edited and collected posthumously. Klíma died of tuberculosis on April 19, 1928, and is buried in Prague.

Jed Slast has lived in Prague since 1991, and works as an editor and translator.