Chapter One
This night was his moment of truth each year. His body, close to solidifying now, trembled a bit at his daunting task at hand. Each year on Christmas Eve as families slept with the expectations of the most joyous day of the year, he was charged with becoming the physical representation of death. His work was to show one chosen soul the empty future their current life would grant them. The visions he created were persuasions for change, to seek out their potential to diligently transform others lives. His visit was a gift. It was his contribution to the betterment of the world.
A chill went down his back as he stood but a foot away watching her, his current assignment. She gave a hasty yank to pull aside one panel of the rich rose-colored window covering. He cringed in anticipation of the rod and curtains falling to the wooden floor, while she continued on incognizant of the possibility to the couch. Throwing her body down haphazardly, her head rolled toward the small portion of window revealing to her the outside world. Following her gaze, he looked out at the stunning array of elaborately decorated homes. A stray tear weaved its way over her cheek glimmering with the light of only the TV. Her own living room remained barren of Christmas lights even on December twenty-fourth.
He had chosen to send away the other two spirits who were to visit her tonight, claiming there was no need for them. Janie's problem was not that she had forgotten her past. To the contrary, the memories of being made fun of as a poor man's child spurred her on to create the false persona she hid behind today. It was her past that had gotten her here. He also felt reminding her of her present, which held no true happiness, would only further her depression, her descent into apathy. The three spirits had agreed there could be nothing to gain from revisiting either time period. Only the Ghost of Christmases Yet to Come could reveal to her how her current state of living could ruin her remaining days. Only what he had to show her could possibly persuade her to change her ways. Yet, the truth behind his suggestion that the Ghost of Christmases Past and the Ghost of Christmas Present leave had more to do with his desire to have her all to himself all for the time he had.
Prior to his one night gig, he would roam the earth unseen until a soul called to him. It would be that one person he would follow similar to a guardian angel. Only he didn't guard them or even intervene, he just observed their actions. Learning about his charge would be his only task for the remainder of the year up until Christmas Eve.
Over the decades he had performed this job, most of his subjects had been barely worth anyone's time. They were self-absorbed, driven only by their own gratifications, without an empathetic dedication to the welfare of mankind. Their actions were too often hard to watch being distasteful or upsetting. These undeserving souls had been granted three visits on Christmas Eve like three gifts that could lead to reformation and therefore redemption. His existence was proof that the Great Creator wept for the loss of any of his children. All of this boiled down to one night, with a star shining brightly down on the earth and carols of glad tidings whispered by the wind, one chance to change or eventually die having left nothing of value to this world.
Yet, this year, this charge, had been different. Having conferred throughout the year with the other two assigned spirits charged with reviewing her past and understanding her present, he had seen glimpses of her two possible futures. She had within her the potential to do great things as all of the others before her. Only, her self-indulgence came not from a desire to gain money or some all-consuming need for power, but from trying to prove to society she was someone worthy of its approval. Over the years, she had more than obtained her original goal, but she still lacked the self-worth that would ease her struggles. Therefore, she spent her days still climbing the ladder of success without the true relationships she secretly longed for. With her reputation as her only focus and false friends with their own selfish ambitions, her true self had eluded her.
She was a damaged soul who had tried desperately to change her life against all the unbearable odds. Only, in her desperation for change, she had compromised who she was. She had become an over-worked success who found that envy did not fulfill her or keep her warm at night.
The painful memories of childhood never allowed her to let her guard down in order to care for others or to be cared for. At home, when she was completely alone, he had seen her true sorrow, and she had broken his ethereal heart. She secretly hated the wealthy woman she had become as much as the destitute girl she had left behind.
With her he had become negligent somehow this year. He had gotten too close, too often and even inappropriately at times. He had spent days upon days distracted by her instead of studying her. Even on her overpriced couch in worn-out jeans, her contradictions of person proved enticing. Physical longings had been a continuous problem for him given he was of the spirit world. Being among the living, but not being of them had been torture for the first time since he had died over four hundred years ago.
There were many times he had lingered too long in respects to her privacy. There were lines of decency not to be crossed even in the spirit world, though he knew of many ghosts who crossed them. Because of his calling, he had always held himself to the highest of standards. Then came the night when she had started to remove her clothing, and he neglected to remove himself. Just that momentary glimpse of her breast had made him loose his sense of place, and he had touched her. At first her shrieks in response to his cold, invisible touches had rallied him to his senses. Unfortunately or fortunately, he was still unsure of which, she had stopped being shocked at his presence. He wondered what price he would have to pay come tomorrow morning for overstepping his bounds and lusting after his charge.
He appeared as usual, cloaked in the darkest of black like the angel of death. His said purpose was to shock or scare someone into making the necessary changes mankind needed from them. The feeling of his semi-earthly feet hitting the floor always sent uncomfortable sensations similar to one's feet having fallen asleep through him. Only, this year as he stood before her body splayed upon the couch there were the knots throughout his abdomen and other sensations just below. That part of his anatomy he had thought dead long ago. Now as he braced for her reaction to his physical manifestation, he glanced down to see if it was lifting up his robe.
He used every ounce of his energy to just restrain his hands from touching the few inches of bare skin revealed by the bunching up of her t-shirt. Her body jumped when he became solid before her. Having been momentarily preoccupied, he jumped as well.
*
Chapter 2
She laid still peering up at him hoping if she looked long enough he would disappear in the same way he had appeared. It had only taken seconds before the blurring colors descending like fog converged into a solid form under the shroud of black cloth. A scream bubbled within her, but no sound emanated forth. Her body was lifeless overshadowed by the dark figure. Initially, she had felt a jolt through each of her limbs, and then they became weighted. Keeping her eyes on the figure, veiled like the specter of death, she concentrated on the familiar voice of Clarence the Angel from It's A Wonderful Life on TV. The blinks of light from the television shimmered about the fabric, making it appear as if the figure within was trembling. When the specter didn't disappear, but just stood there silent and still, she fought with herself about weather to scream or try to run.
He pointed and moved slowly toward the window. Her eyes had followed him with furrowed brows when he hadn't glided like she would have imagined him to. She scoffed to herself that even her hallucination didn't act appropriately. Then, he reached out an arm towards her, and again pointed with his other out the window. Janie closed her eyes and shook her head in a last ditch effort to clear the apparition away. When her eyes opened again, he was still there. A sickness rolled in her stomach as he gestured more aggressively toward the window. On the loneliest night of the entire year, she was either hallucinating the angel of death or death had truly come for her. A flood of tears came with a sorrow so profound she closed her eyes to the shrouded figure again.
Sensing movement, she saw him approaching her through the haziness of her tear-covered lashes. When he finally knelt on the floor so close to her body that she could feel the heat of him, he brushed away the trail of tears on her cheek with a human hand. Her breath caught with the life-like, gentle caress that radiated tiny shocks to her flesh. His hand rubbed over her cheek lovingly, and she instantaneously missed the touch the moment it was gone.
