Chains The Untold Christmas Carol

It was Christmas and Charles hated Christmas. It was worse than any other day of the year because on Christmas it was impossible to pretend. Pretending had always been Charles' greatest solace. When his father was arrested for unpaid debts, Charles pretended he had gone to sea in search of treasure troves. Charles spent many hours imagining his father battling scurvy-ridden pirates and deciphering clues. Every day, while Charles worked in the grimy shoe-polish warehouse by the Thames, he ignored his aching fingers and the warehouse's stench by telling himself stories and pretending a thousand different realities.

On Christmas, this was impossible. There was no way to pretend the bland soup in his bowl was black forest cake. There was no way to imagine the house warm. The icy chill tore into Charles' flesh as he lay shivering on his bed wrapped in a decrepit blanket. Sleep was impossible. Even if he had been able to ignore the cold, the sound of scratching in the basement was constant. The rodents seemed to be having a Christmas party of their own.

Charles tried in vain to pretend. I am an orphan; my mother died giving birth to me. It is discovered that my mother was a rich widow... I am a parson; I live in a white cottage beside a lake. I come across a dead body and... I am an innkeeper. I overhear murderers talking and...

Suddenly, the scratching changed. It became louder, more obtrusive, like nails scraping a plate. That can't be rats, has something bigger got in? A stray cat maybe? Charles clutched his blanket tightly around his shoulders and got up. Might as well investigate.

Careful not to wake anyone, he crept to the hatch in the floor that led to the basement. He pried it open and descended towards the source of the scraping.

"I wondered what it would take to get you down here," said a raspy voice.

Charles was startled to see a man lying on the floor wrapped in chains from head to toe. Charles immediately knew the man was a ghost because he could see him clearly even though it was pitch black in the basement. It was always this way with ghosts. Charles had seen ghosts all his life but never one like this. For one thing, it was speaking to him. All the ghosts Charles had seen previously had been unable to hear or see him no matter what he did.

Beneath the rusted chains, the ghost was naked. Charles could see welts in the ghost's pale flesh where the metal was boring in. "Who are you?"

"I am a man who has been chained so long that time has lost its meaning."

The ghost coughed and it was a deep hacking cough. The ghost was an old man, seventy or eighty Charles would guess.

"I'm Charles."

"I know."

"How do you know me?"

"Because of time," was the cryptic response. "The dead are outside time. We can see things that have happened and things that will happen. Some of us can even travel through time."

"I've never been able to talk to a ghost before."

"The gift, if it can be called that, grows with age. It becomes stronger during adolescence. I was sixteen when I first was able to interact with a ghost." The ghost smiled at the surprise it saw in Charles' face. "Yes my boy, I was able to see ghosts too, and it was on a Christmas much like this that a ghost first spoke to me. Everything began with that. Everything. Even these chains."

"Why the chains?"

"I'll tell you their story if you like. You like stories don't you?"

"I tell them to myself all the time." Charles sat down on one of the steps.

"As I said, my story begins on a Christmas much like this one. Just as cold and just as bleak. I was crying much as you were earlier tonight. And then she spoke to me."

"She?"

"The first ghost to speak to me. Estella. One moment I was alone and the next I felt myself taken into a tight embrace. I opened my eyes and I was in the arms of a beautiful brown haired woman. I thought she was an angel."

"You could feel her arms?" Charles exclaimed. He had tried to touch ghosts and his hands had gone right through them.

"If a ghost wants you to feel it's touch, you will."

"I don't understand."

"Touch one of these chains."

Charles knelt and grabbed for the chains. His fingers went through them.

"Now try again."

Charles obeyed and this time he could feel the cold hard steel of the chains. Fingers grabbed Charles' neck from behind and he jumped. He turned and there was no one there.

"You see," the ghost explained. "I can make you feel anything."

"Could you make me feel warm?"

"Of course," said the ghost. The room warmed up. It was like there was a furnace burning in the corner.

"Thank you," Charles replied.

"It's not real heat. If you went into the snow outside you would feel warm but you would still freeze to death. We ghosts cannot truly affect the living world; we can just fool the senses..." The voice of the ghost petered out and he seemed lost in a memory for a few moments. When he spoke again, his eyes were closed. "I was telling you about Estella. It is not surprising that I thought she was an angel because she was dressed in white, in a wedding dress actually. All the years that I saw her, she was always in a wedding dress. She never explained why. We talked of other things though. That night and in the days that followed. We became friends.

"Estella came to visit me every day and we talked and laughed for hours. She had only been a few years older than me when she died which is why her body was that of a twenty year old. In the thirty years since she had died she had traveled widely around the world and she had traveled in time. She had gone back as far as Roman times and the stories she told me about what she had seen were fascinating. It was a happy time for me. For three years she was my best friend. While I was at Wellington House Academy, other students were sure I was mad because they would often catch me talking to the air." The ghost laughed and it was an odd sound. Like a kettle wheezing when water boiled.

"Things changed when I started a job as a clerk at a firm of solicitors in Holburn. There was a girl named Maria Beadnell who also worked there and she was a beautiful girl with a contagious laugh and so much energy that it sometimes seemed a whirlwind was trapped in her frame. Inevitably, I fell for her and one afternoon I tried to kiss her. She told me I was mad to think that she could ever have had any feeling for me. Humiliated and heartbroken I went home and I was crying when Estella found me. I told her what had happened and, as she had years earlier, she put her arms around me. I clutched her hard and let all the frustration pour out.

"'It will be ok,' she crooned. 'It will be all right.'

"I held her for a long time and I began to notice things about Estella I had not when I was younger. The warmth of her body against mine was impossible to ignore. I noticed her full breasts crushing against my chest and her breath against the side of my face. The way she rocked me to comfort me was suddenly incomparably sensual. My question came out as a stutter.

"'W...w...will you kiss me?'

"Estella gave me a strange look and placed her lips chastely against my forehead.

"I spoke again. 'Could you... kiss me on the lips?'

"Estella pulled away from me. 'You know I'm not alive,' she replied. 'I can't.'

"'When you touch me I feel it.'

"She was silent for a few seconds then she said. 'I don't want to.'

"The wind was knocked out of me when she said that and I fumbled for words. This second rejection of the day felt like a knife had been plunged into my belly. I guess I had been in love with Estella for a long time without realizing it. She said something but I could not hear her. I was hot with shame. I leaned forward and tried to kiss her. Of course, my lips met nothing but air. She alone had the power to make me feel her touch.

"She flinched anyway and my first reaction was anger. For a split second I thought about hitting her and a strange thing happened. I did not move but Estella' body convulsed like she had been struck across the face. I was shocked. I had made it happen. I started to apologize but it was too late. 'Why did you have to be like him?' Estella whispered and then she was gone.

"I called out her name but she did not return.

"'I sorry,' I yelled at the silent room. 'I'm sorry'.

"I was sure she would come back. After all, I had not known my thoughts could affect her that way. It had been an accident. Surely she would understand."

The ghost faded into silence and Charles noticed his eyes were gleaming with tears. Awkwardly, he waited for the narration to resume. The ghost shifted and the metallic coils ground against each other, hissing. "I was wrong," the ghost said., finally. "She never came back. During my childhood, I had been lonely frequently but after Estella disappeared I was lonely in a deeper way than ever before. I thought about her all the time. Every day it hurt more and I spent months trying to find her. I found out the cemetery where she had been buried and visited it. I asked other ghosts if they had seen her. It was impossible to find her.

"In my despair, I was lax in my duties at the firm and I lost my job. The only work I could find afterwards was freelance reporting at the Doctor's Commons Court. It was there that I witnessed the trial of an old Jew named Fagin. He was officially charged for conspiracy to commit robbery (he was the ringleader of a group of child cutpurses) but there were whispers about his involvement in witchcraft and sorcery. Like everyone else, I laughed at the rumors. In due course Fagin was sentenced to 5 years. As the bailiff was taking him out of the courtroom he looked me dead in the eyes and said, 'You have the sight too.'

"I knew he could only mean one thing. I arranged a visit to his cell and standing close enough to the bars of his cell that nobody would overhear us, I asked. 'Can you see ghosts?'

"Beneath a thick tangled beard he smiled. 'Indeed.'

"We talked for hours and he struck a bargain with me. If I helped him file an appeal to reduce his sentence he would help me to learn to use my gift. He assured me that I had barely scraped the surface of my potential. He told me that ghosts could be compelled to do tasks and one could even learn secrets about the future from certain ghosts. I knew a great deal about the law by now and I helped Fagin's sentence to be shortened to 1 year. He was true to his word and in return he taught me secret incantations and rites for binding spirits. He taught me the ingredients of forgotten potions and the words of forgotten spells.

"It was because of his teaching that two years later, I stood naked in the center of a pentagram and spoke a litany in a language older than Sumerian. After a sequence of gestures and incantations, I spoke her name. 'Estella Haversham.'

"The candles that were lined around my pentagram flared impossibly bright for a split second and then she was there standing in the center of the pentagram. As always she was dressed in a wedding dress and she was just as beautiful as she had always been. 'Estella,' I gasped, almost in tears. 'I finally found you.'

"She recoiled. 'You!' Her expression was one of disgust.

"'Please,' I begged. 'I am sorry for what happened. I love you Estella.'

"She reacted with terror. It was as though the words 'I love you' were the most terrifying thing she had ever heard. She turned and ran. She reached the edge of the pentagram and hit an invisible barrier. She fell to the floor. Fagin had taught me well.

"'Don't run from me,' I begged. "All I did was kiss you. Don't you remember all the times we spent together?"

"Estella spat in my face. I gaped in disbelief. On some level I had expected her to be as delighted to see me as I was to see her. I had envisioned our meeting like that of the prodigal child and his father -- all slights forgiven, all bonds renewed. I stammered. Estella was looking at me like a monster. The anger I had been restraining for years took hold of me. 'Fine then,' I ordered. 'Kiss me now.'

"Estella shook her head and I focused on my anger. When I had affected her 3 years earlier it had been an accident. Now, with the training of Fagin, I knew how to shape my rage into a pulse of pure pain. She screamed and I approached her.

"'Kiss me,' I said again and she did not resist. Trembling, she pressed her lips against mine. I felt her tongue slip into my mouth and I tried to wrap my hands around her body. I encountered only air. 'Make me feel your body against mine,' I instructed.

"N...no," she stammered and I sent another thread of pain into her body.

Suddenly I was holding her supple body against mine. I caressed her back. 'This doesn't have to be unpleasant,' I said. 'I just want to reconnect with you. Someone hurt you. Was it the man you were marrying? Is that why you're always in a wedding dress? I am not him; I just want to show you how much I love you. I know what you're thinking, as a ghost you can't feel physical pleasure, but look what I have learnt.' I spread my fingers into a fan and reached out. I grabbed hold of one of Estella's breasts and I ignored how firm and inviting it felt beneath my palm. I focused.

"Estella moaned as a wave of pleasure tore through her. Fagin had taught me both how to give ghosts pain and pleasure. That was how he controlled them. According to Fagin, the pleasure that I had just sent through Estella was five times more intense than the physical pleasure a living person would feel at the point of orgasm. It was pure, undiluted ecstasy of the spirit. I pulled her close and concentrated again. Estella moaned again and undulated in my arms. By now my body had responded fully. I was painfully erect and my flesh burnt with need.

"I pushed Estella to the floor.

"'Please...' she begged me.

"To this day I do not know if she was begging me to stop or begging me to continue filling her with pleasure. I plunged into her, losing myself in her..."

Charles rose, disgusted. "You raped her."

"No, you don't understand..."

"She told you to stop and you didn't! You deserve to rot in those chains." Charles began climbing out of the basement.

"Please Charles," the ghost begged. "I regret my actions and I have been punished sufficiently. Imagine being chained in the dark, unable to move, for an hour? For a day? What about for a year. I have been like this for decades. Please. Please hear me out!"

The desperate agony in the ghost's voice reached Charles even in anger. "All right. I will listen, but you disgust me."

"I disgust myself too," the ghost admitted. "That night, I became damned. Before then I had sinned, but I had sinned in the way of a child, petty thieveries and quiet hatreds. That night was true, unrepentant evil. Estella resisted me. Whenever my focus broke and there was a pause in the stream of pleasure I was pouring into her, she struggled, latching nails into my shoulders like claws. Within moments, when I regained concentration, she was unable to anything but writhe beneath me uncontrollably, letting out gasps of elation.

"I have played that night over and over in my mind. I should have used my arcane knowledge differently. I should have made Estella sit in front of me and listen to my apologies over and over again until she forgave me. I should have groveled before her and begged. I shouldn't have... Charles, you cannot imagine how much my body needed hers. I had fantasized about her every night since the day she had disappeared. I could no more control my passion than I could stop an avalanche with my hands.

"I wish I could say it that it only happened once but now that I had tasted from the vine, I could not stop. The next day I took her twice and it was the same. She fought me but was unable to stop me. The same was true the next day and the next.

"I do not know when exactly she gave up fighting but at some point I imagine the futility of resistance made her still her protests. The pleasure must also have played a part in it; how long can a person resist ecstasy? Estella and I began a strange, twisted relationship. As much as she hated me, the sensations I could give her through my arcane arts were something that she grew to crave. She became like an opium addict. As months passed, instead of resisting me she began to hunger for me and initiate our encounters. Sometimes she would wake me up by sucking my penis into her mouth or she would nibble on the back of my neck until I lost control and leapt at her.

"What did it feel like? A hundred times better than sex with a living woman. When I entered her, I felt the firm grip of her vaginal muscles milking me as I would with a living woman but that was just the beginning. The connection we had was more than just flesh. Our minds blended. As I pounded inside her I shared her confusion, fear, rage, and arousal. Fragments of her life flickered through my mind unbidden. While inside her I might receive a flash of her playing in a field of lilies as a child or a flash of a young blond boy dancing with her. Who knows what glimpses of my past she was getting? While my member ploughed within her, our minds were one. Thousands of images and emotions swirled through our minds and the sexual pleasure was overwhelming. On one occasion I remember her cursing me while pulling me close and driving me deeper into her. I whispered into her ear that..."

The ghost paused in his narration, noticing Charles. Charles' was flushed. Not because of embarrassment but because something strange had happened as the ghost spoke. It had suddenly been like he was in the story. He had been able to see Estella and she had been pressed against him, riding him and driving him closer and closer towards orgasm. He had been able to feel the twin points of her nipples grazing his chest and the grind and bump of her hips against his. Somehow, he had been in the ghost's memories.

"I'm sorry," the ghost apologized. "All those details were unnecessary. I just got caught up in the telling."

Don't stop, Charles wanted to screech. He wanted to be making love to Estella again. He needed to feel those divine thighs around his waist again. Don't stop.

Charles didn't voice the request. He didn't know if the ghost knew he had shared the memory. If he knew, maybe he would stop telling the story. As long as he didn't know, maybe it would happen again. "W... what happened next?"

"Estella became more ravenous than I was. She craved the pleasure I could give her and she began seducing me everywhere. As only I could see her, Estella could tease me as much as she liked without anybody being the wiser. During court cases, she would sometimes take off her clothes in front of me and taunt me with pleas only I could hear. 'Why don't you stick a finger in me?' She might ask. 'Why don't you feel how wet I am?'

"She might then stick two of her fingers into her cunt and withdraw them, dripping. 'Take me right now if you dare.'

"Of course I couldn't even acknowledge her. I had to pretend she wasn't there. Sometimes I couldn't. During one court case Estella climbed beneath the table at which I was notating the procedures and started stroking me. She rubbed me firm and slow as she knew I liked. I let out a moan and the whole court turned to look at me. She didn't stop. She made me feel the sensation of her tongue swirling around the tip of my penis and then she made me feel like she was sucking me in earnest.

"'Are you OK?' The judge asked.

"'Yes,' I replied in a strangled voice.

"Because Estella was a ghost, there was nothing we could not do sexually. You saw how easily I made you feel warm Charles. She used that power on me to make me feel like I was being touched by a hundred fingers, to make me feel like I was immersed in oil when I was inside her. Similarly, I sought out lost tomes of magic and learnt ways to make her body sing with pleasure.