Chapter the Third
The Messenger

Upon the striking of the hour of six PM, Scrooge closed his ledger, and glanced up at his clerk, who seemed most eager to depart. He always was of course, but on this evening it was most evident. Scrooge was not surprised. The occasion had been hammered into him this afternoon and so he knew what was on Cratchitt’s mind.

“I suppose you’ll want the whole of tomorrow off.” He grumbled.

“W-well,” Bob stammered, embarrassed. “If, uhm, if it’s quite convenient sir.”

“Convenient?” Scrooge barked. “Convenient? Of course it’s not convenient. Nor fair either. If I was to dock you even half a crown you’d feel ill used. But no one thinks me ill used for giving you a day’s wages for no work.”

“Well,” the clerk said, looking down at the floor in shame. “It’s only once a year sir.”

“Bah. That’s a poor excuse for picking a hard working man’s pocket every December 25th.” He put on his coat and hat, knowing that Bob was waiting for a definite yes or no. He sighed. He could think of no other businesses that would be open tomorrow. Sometimes it seemed he was the only sensible man in the whole of London. But with no other businesses open, why bother opening himself? He could do without Cratchitt for one day. “Be here all the earlier next morning.” He said grudgingly, and stepped out into the cold.

“Thank you sir!” Bob said heartily. “Thank you sir Me-“ He wisely stopped himself before the merry Christmas could slip out. Scrooge said nothing, but went on his way. He didn’t change his routine any. He sat in a tavern going over accounts in his bankers book, drinking a bit of ale and eating a bit of food, then headed home to bed.

The building he lived in was older than the rest of the neighborhood, and no-one lived in it but Scrooge. He kept a set of rooms for himself on the middle floor but one could hardly call it home. It was where he slept only. Where he kept his belongings. He spent little time there and invested even less emotion in it.

The rest of the building he rented out to businesses. Businesses which were all closed and gone home by the time he got there.

Therefore, there were no witnesses to the phenomenon which greeted Ebenezer when he thrust his key into the lock of the door. The old miser was a hard man to rattle, having little imagination and little care for others, or indeed for himself. But rattled he was, and his blood chilled, when he saw that Marley’s face had replaced the usual design on the knocker. Scrooge’s breath caught in his throat as the unearthly specter gazed at him mournfully. But then suddenly it was gone. He blinked, to be sure he’d seen it in the first place. The knocker had returned to it’s natural state.

Swallowing, Scrooge muttered a humbug, and turned the key resolutely and entered the building.

Most men after seeing such a sight would have balked at the darkness surrounding them. But Scrooge actually quite liked the dark. After all, it cost much less than light did. But he did, however, check all through his rooms, just in case. And double locked his door, which he did not usually do. Everything had been as it should be, and he dismissed the matter as a brief flight of fancy.

Scrooge, let it be known was not a man to heap hardships on others that he did not endure himself. For though he was stingy with the coal for Bob Cratchitt’s fire, he too kept low fires. Wood was no cheaper than coal, and so it was barely warmer in his own bedroom than it was throughout the building. He sat close, with a bowl of gruel, and tried to ignore the pictures of Marley that had inexplicably appeared on the tiles in the fireplace.

He could not however ignore the bell, which hung above, which he supposed was meant to summon the servants from their quarters on the top floor, when there had been servants here.

It was ringing. Of it’s own accord, for the string that had once been attached to it was long gone. And yet it rang out loudly and clearly, preceding every bell in the house before all was silent once more.

Even now, after all that, Scrooge was adamant. He would not be shaken by bells. Nor misbehaving knockers, nor darkness, nor chains dragged across floors- His blood chilled once more. Chains. An ominous sound to be sure, emanating through the floorboards at his feet, coming from the basement. But they did not stay there, though that would have been horror enough. No the proceeded up the stairs, slowly, steadily, seeming to clank in time with Scrooge’s pounding heart.

Never minding the heavy locked door, the owner of the chains passed through into Scrooge’s room, and faced him. It was Marley. There could be no mistaking him, despite his pale, transparent appearance. And yet Scrooge forced himself into a mode of questioning.

”Who are you?” he hissed, rising from his chair and backing away.

The ghost smirked slightly. “That’s not quite the question is it Old friend? Try this, who WAS I?”

Scrooge scowled despite his fear. “Very well then, who were you?”

“I was, in life, Jacob Marley. Your partner.”

Scrooge swallowed, and forced himself to expel his fear.

The ghost knew his old partner well, and saw it in his face. “You don’t believe in me.”

“No.” came the unrepentant answer.

“Is seeing not believing Ebenezer?”

“Not so.” Scrooge forged on. “I could have fallen asleep and be dreaming. Or even a bit of undigested beef is giving me this vision. I could swallow a toothpick and be haunted by goblins from my own mind.”

Marley let out an unearthly shriek that seemed to emanate from the very walls. No mortal creature, or flight of fancy could have made that sound. No Scrooge could not have dreamed such a cry in his very worst nightmares. His knees buckled and he fell to the floor, trembling.

“W-what do you want?” he asked in a small voice.

“Do you believe in me?”

“Y-yes,” Scrooge allowed. “I-I must. But why, why are you here?”

The ghost’s face softened. It was such a peculiar expression to appear on Marley’s face that Scrooge was not certain how to interpret it. “It is required of everyone, that the spirit within them, should go about, among their fellows. If they do not do so in life, they must do so after they have died. Witnessing what they cannot share, but might have shared and turned to happiness.” There appeared such a look of misery upon his face that again Scrooge was taken aback. This was, quite frankly, more emotion than he’d ever seen on his old friend’s face. And it disturbed him to realize this.

Scrooge found himself less and less afraid of the specter before him, and more and more curious. “Tell me, what is that chain that binds you?”

“This is the chain I forged with my life.” Marley answered. “With each act of greed, and indifference, and cruelty.” With a darkening look, Marley raised his eyes to Scrooge’s. “The chain you have created waits for you. It was as long as this the night I passed, and you have labored on it.” Rising before Scrooge could say anything more, Marley continued. “I am here tonight to warn you. To tell you that you still have a hope, a chance of escaping my fate. A chance that it has taken me seven years to procure for you. You will be visited by three spirits.”

“Is, is that the chance you speak of?”

Marley couldn’t help but smirk. “It is.”

“I think I’d rather not if it’s all the same to you.”

“Expect the first tonight, when the bell tolls one. The second will come the next night at the same time, and the third, the night after that upon the stroke of one.”

“Couldn’t I just meet them all at the same time and get it done?”

Marley shook his head. “I pray we will not see each other again old friend. For if we do not, it means that you have succeeded, where I have failed. Remember what I have told you. And remember me.” As he spoke, Jacob backed towards the window, and with every step, it opened a little wider, until it was wide enough for him to exit out of.

Unable to stop his curiosity, Scrooge dashed over, and peered out. He heard them before he saw them. Ghosts. Hundreds of them, all wailing in lament and sorrow and regret.

He felt a strange sensation, one of pity as he saw clearly, that they all wished to aid the suffering they saw, and could never do so. But as they faded away, Scrooge found himself overwhelmed with the desire to sleep, and obeyed it willingly.

To Be Continued… 1