Chance and Hope: Jacob Marley’s Ghost Story©
Chapter Three
The moment the chain had been severed from his coffin, Jacob had felt an impulse to move. He resisted the urge, staring at the shrouded figure whose scythe had disappeared. The impulse for movement, to pull the chains behind him as he moved forward to some unreachable destination, began to steadily grow. It was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore and felt as if a swarm of bees was burrowing into his head through his ears and nose.
The hooded figure turned to walk away from the grave and disappeared during the turn as if they had folded into nothing. Jacob groaned as the urge to move increased to a fervor that he could not ignore, and he slowly pulled his chains in no direction in particular. He wandered aimlessly about the countryside, wailing into the day and night as he was forced to move, never able to sleep, never able to stand still for very long.
Jacob was not being forced to go in any particular direction, and he found himself drawn to familiar places from his life. Often, he would find himself drifting down the street between his old home and Scrooge and Marley’s office. On occasion, he found himself following his friend home and sitting with him in his bedchamber for as long as he could. He would call out to the man, curse him for being a fool, and watch his friend live his wealthy life alone. Jacob could only stay a few moments before he was forced to move on.
As he endured his endless torment, Jacob would occasionally come across living people that stood out from others. There was a glow around them, not heavenly by any means, but an aura nonetheless that made his eyes linger on them.
Jacob began to dread these moments, to dread the aura that surrounded those who he would have considered a stranger in passing. It was these souls that he had impacted in life by his decisions, and he was made aware of his trespass against them by the results of his interactions. Whenever he saw this aura, he was fiercely coerced by an unknown force to grasp the chain he was dragging behind him, and relive the decision he had made that caused that specific part of his torment. He would see it anew as if he was living it again, yet there was no joy in the resurrected memory, only horror.
To avoid these people Jacob began to avoid populated cities, which often led him to cemeteries. He would occasionally come across a funeral with the figure in black standing watch, waiting for the proper moment to cut the chain tethering the soul to its body.
Strangely enough, Jacob could not see the chain or the soul attached to it. The brilliant scythe would appear in the hands of that holy figure, it would fall, and there would be the sound of the chain breaking apart, yet nothing could be seen. Jacob wondered if he was the only soul in torment, yet he knew this was not so as he had seen chains forged on Doctor Aeson, and on Ebenezer. Others must be in torment, yet he saw no tethered and wailing souls about him.
The figure in black always ignored Jacob’s wail for relief. The specter gave no indication that it could see or hear Jacob, and he could not approach the figure. Not that there was a barrier by any means, yet the inclination to approach was immediately rejected by his own mind. Regardless, the figure would always wait patiently for the clergy to finish, nod slightly in amen, then cut the invisible chain and depart.
Jacob would continue his wandering, wailing to the sky, moaning to the ground, apologizing to the stars in his endless, laborious, sojourn. He found himself drifting through a fog for some time, and when the fog lifted he was out upon the sea with no land in sight. In life, he would have enjoyed seeing the sea, yet his torment banished all enjoyment from his perspective. He could find joy in nothing, peace in nothing, rest in nothing.
Eventually, he saw a light in the distance floating upon the water and found himself drifting towards it. Coming closer, he saw the aftermath of an explosion upon the water. A ship was burning as it slowly sunk, the flames reaching high enough into the night sky to illuminate bodies in the water around him. Some of them were alive, clinging to drifting wood. Jacob was allowed to pause in his roaming, though the weight of his chains increased as if to make up for the lack of motion.
He wondered what was causing the alteration in his torment when he began to be pulled down into the water by his chains. Jacob knew he was dead, so he had no fear of the approaching water. In fact, he would have rejoiced if he could drown, if only to rid himself of his endless exhaustion, so he let himself be pulled into the crushing depths of the sea without a struggle. It took some time for him to sink to the bottom, and he seemed to be guided by his chains as he descended until he came upon a man’s body on the ocean floor.
The man was shirtless and barefoot and wearing a simple pair of pants as if he had been asleep when the explosion above had decimated his vessel. His left foot was wrapped around a hammock that was attached to part of the wall of the ship, which is what had dragged the man into the depths. He appeared to have drowned as there were no wounds on him.
Jacob wondered how he was able to see in such total darkness, so he looked around for the source of light which was illuminating the watery grave. At first, he could not see it, but then a piece of the weightless robe of the figure in black moved across one of its glowing hands, and the source of light was made plain. Jacob stared at the figure and was surprised to see it staring back at him.
Jacob knew that his presence in this moment was not circumstantial, and that he had been specifically brought to this place for a reason, but to what end he did not know.
“Why am I here, great specter?” Jacob asked, almost giddy at being able to speak to someone who could understand him.
In response, the Spector pointed at the seabed below the man’s corpse, or more specifically, below the hammock that had created the corpse with its entanglement. It was difficult to see with so many shadows, but as the specter pointed the ocean floor lit up as if the sun had risen beneath the sea. Below the hammock was a thick book, open and facing up. The book must have traveled to the bottom in the hammock as the pages were still legible.
Jacob drifted closer to the book to gaze upon the book. His eyes fell upon words and he read out loud.
“Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing? and one of them shall not fall on the ground without your Father. But the very hairs of your head are all numbered.”
It was the Bible, the book of Matthew.
The light around the bible diminished so that Jacob could not see the page enough to continue reading, and he looked to the specter again. The specter had the same scythe in their hand and was sweeping it across the seabed above the body. Instead of the familiar sound of chain, there was the sound of cloth tearing, and the soul of the man appeared next to his body. He was wearing white robes and glowed a brilliant white, outshining the light of the scythe by tenfold. His face beamed with joy as he looked upon his floating body, without an ounce of horror at seeing himself in such a state.
“I understand, now,” the man said with tears of joy on his face.
A beam of white appeared above the man, and he looked into the beam.
“Mother! Carol!”
The man continued to joyously call out names as his arms spread as if he was about to embrace someone. Then in an instant, the man in white, the figure in black, and the light from their countenances were gone. Jacob was left in total darkness, staring at the place he knew the corpse was, knowing the man’s soul had found peace.
Jacob sobbed into the sea as he was compelled to pull his chains across the dark ocean floor.