Chance and Hope: Jacob Marley’s Ghost Story©

Chapter Six

Only two years? He had covered the distance of the earth multiple times, explored the mountains and canyons of the ocean, and witnessed countless reckonings of his past, yet only two years had elapsed since his death. He felt as if it had been over a century of wandering.

The weariness of it all caused Jacob to fall over in anguish, and the moment he touched the ground the urge to rise to his feet and move began to grow like a thorn in his head. Jacob ignored the prompting and wept upon the ground. The urge grew ten-fold! If he had a body, it would have felt as if blood was filled with shards of glass, cutting him open from the inside. Still, he ignored the urge and screamed his defiance and rage into the sky, beating the ground with his fists, and lashing out at the punishment he so rightfully deserved.

A voice spoke to him, but at this point, the pain was a roar in his ears so he did not hear what the voice had said. Jacob gave in and shot into the air to travel while looking around for the source of the voice. His eyes fell on the boy that had recently departed from him.

“Have you come back to gawk at my deeds and take pleasure in my tormented existence?” Jacob shouted angrily at the boy.

“Andrew, my brother, was witnessing your interaction with your memories so he may testify of them. I assure you there was no mockery in his assignment, and no pleasure gained from his observations” the boy said happily, ignoring Jacob’s anger.

“Your brother?” Jacob asked, the harshness ebbing slightly as his curiosity as to why he had another visitor so quickly caught up to him.

Jacob could see now that this was indeed a different boy. They appeared to be the same age and had very similar features, so they were most likely twins. This boy’s suit was a different color though, and his hair slightly darker. There was a book in his hand like his brother had held, but instead of a candle snuffer on its cover, there was a lit candle.

The boy continued to speak.

 “My name is Daniel, and I have heard Andrew’s witness of your words and actions during your torment. You, nor I, can do anything to ebb your torment, yet I have been given permission to clarify some points of it so you may gain meaning from it.”

Jacob’s urge to move was strong, to continue his endless march uninterrupted. He turned and walked as he responded, and Daniel fell into step with him.

“You speak well for a child. Am I allowed to ask questions? Or am I to just listen?” Jacob asked.

“I am far older than I appear,” the boy said with a smile. “I have information for you, and in the event that I ask you a question, then you may ask me one in return. I may be constrained in my answer, but if I am allowed to respond, then I shall.”

The two walked through a building at that point which happened to be a church. A minister was preparing for the congregation, placing large numbers on a slanted shelf for the gathering congregation to know the page number for their hymnals. The church was large, yet humble, with few adornments and plain windows. The minister finished his task and left through a small door to the side of the pulpit behind the choir pews.

The urge to walk lessoned, to the point that Jacob was able to stand still for a moment in the church. His chains grew in weight to compensate for his lessoned urge to travel, and he could barely hold them in the air. However, he knew if he allowed the crushing weight to pull him to his knees he would be urged to stand and move again, so he stood firm.

“The minister of this church seems burdened,” the boy said, staring at the door the man had disappeared into. “He is unsure of what message he should tell his congregation on Christmas morning. What do you think he should tell them?”

Jacob had not scrutinized the minister enough to even remember what he looked like, let alone see a burden upon him. Jacob cast his eyes around the church until they fell upon a small manger scene on a table near the pulpit. The manger scene appeared to be homemade from tufts of straw being shoved into a cloth and tied to form heads and arms, then faces drawn on with chalk or ash.

“He should tell them the tale of Christ’s birth,” Jacob said, nodding towards the manger scene.

“Why?” The boy asked.

“Is that not the story of Christmas from the New Testament?”

“That is an important part of the fulfilled testament, yes. Yet much comes from Christ after his birth, much of which is forgotten when Christmas passes by. The adherence to such content can be a great blessing, yet many squander it with the distractions of mortal life. What would you tell this congregation to help them remember the birth of Christ, yet also apply the purpose of his existence in their lives when the season ends?”

Jacob thought long on the boy’s words, not fully understanding their meaning. He had never been a religious man, being far too busy with the pursuit of substance to consider such notions. He knew very little of the scriptures, and almost nothing of the interpretations of those scriptures from one faith to another. He did not know what the minister would say, but he knew what he would say if he could speak to them.

“If I was the minister I would show them my chains. I would tell them that their ill actions form these hellish links and that they would do well to avoid my fate.”

“Then do so,” the boy said as he faded into the shadows around them.

Jacob found himself standing at the pulpit facing a congregation. The pews were filled to the brim, and there was a ring of people standing against the walls of the room. Everyone was wearing their Sunday best, with families sitting or standing together. There were people of all ages, with children held in arms or sitting on laps. Every eye was on Jacob and there was not a sound in the room, not a cough, a sniff, or even the rustle of fabric.

Horror began to grow in Jacob’s breast as he realized the room was glowing slightly. He missed it at first because the congregation was so closely packed together, but every person had the aura around them that signified that Jacob’s actions toward these people had created the chains of his torment. Jacob began to scan the room, looking into the eyes of those he had harmed, eyes that had before been oblivious of his presence when he journeyed to them.

Jacob locked eyes with a large family which was so indebted to him that they had sold one of their children to avoid living on the street. He knew full well what had transpired, and still evicted them months later when they could again no longer make their payments. He stared into the eyes of several women he had taken advantage of, leading them to believe in his long-term intentions, and abandoning them when he had achieved his base pursuits. One of these women had become pregnant, yet he had paid well for her claims of paternity to be discredited so the child could not be linked to him, robbing him of his finances. He saw people he had led into bankruptcy, other business owners he had tricked into ill purchases, and all those he had mocked from his arrogant perch.

Jacob was surprised to find no hatred or anger in their eyes. He saw that which he knew he would not have given if their places were exchanged; he saw forgiveness, love, and pity. Jacob buried his face in his hands to shut it all out, to hide from the love and pity that he did not deserve, and that would not save him from his torment.

He heard a rustling of paper in front of him and opened his eyes to find the link of the chain with the pierced paper on top of the pulpit. The paper lifted from the chain, and the chain fell to the ground without a sound as the paper came to rest on the pulpit. The paper was blank, yet at its top words were beginning to appear. A name appeared, followed by a date, time, location, and an explanation as to what had transpired at that time and place in order to create the link of torment he carried with him. The information appeared quickly, then moved to the next line, and the process was repeated. The page seemed to have no end as the information continued to flow over the page from top to bottom, over and over again, documenting the creation of the entire length of his chain.

As names appeared on the page, Jacob could see the glowing aura around individual people disappear. Each person’s information was seared into the book one by one. The process seemed to take an eternity, yet at long last it was complete. The words stopped appearing on the piece of paper as Jacob realized the room was now devoid of its sickly glow.

It was then that the paper seemed to expand and grow, pages stacking on top of each other, creating a pile of paper on the pulpit. A leather binding appeared around the book, branded with a candle with a snuffer over its top. The book lifted itself off of the pulpit and reattached itself to the chains around Jacob, a document of his crimes against his fellow man.

“What would you like to say to your congregation?” Daniel asked from where he was seated in the front pew.

There were two tiny infants in his arms, one in the crook of each arm, and he cradled them as if he had done so countless times before. The babes appeared to be asleep, content, and happy in the young man’s arms. Jacob took a moment to collect himself, then looked around the room again. He still saw that which he thought was impossible. Love, forgiveness, and pity.

“I have not words that are impactful enough to accurately express myself. I … am overwhelmed” Jacob said softly, almost in a whisper.

There was no response from David, no response from anyone. No one moved or reacted to his words, waiting for him to say more. As the moment lengthened, Jacob thought on exactly what he was experiencing. When he spoke again, his voice quivered with frustration and anger.

“I have been told twice now that I can do nothing to end my torment. Can you save me, boy? Can any of these people I have wounded save me? Can your forgiveness end my tortuous journey? Does your love break the links that bind my chains? Can your pity remove the weariness I feel to the depths of my soul, and give me peace, even if in nothingness? If not, then why am I here? Why set me upon this horrid track, then add false hopes and startled expectations?”

Daniel came to his feet and spoke.

“You say you would rather not exist than endure the punishment you heaped upon yourself,” David said plainly, anger touching his voice. “You are presented with every witness of your trespass against the laws of God, every person you have offended in life, and the opportunity to say anything you want to them … and you mock the moment as an unworthy distraction from endless wandering.”

The congregation disappeared, including the two babies David was holding, leaving the two of them alone in the empty church. David had a sorrowful look on his face, with no trace of the anger that had crept into his tone before.

“Jacob, I have need to remove myself from your presence that I may compose myself more fully before my next assignment, yet we have a contract and I will not abandon it. I asked you three questions in total, one of which I asked twice, and will not count as a fourth. Ask.”

Jacob had already felt the pull of his chains, their endless weight dragging behind him even while pulling him forward. He was angry now, angry at feeling teased, angry at mistaking the forgiveness in the eyes of those he had wounded as a chance for peace. He was angry because he knew there was no peace to be had, no matter what he said to that room of people. He could have pled with them for a millennium, and he would still have been damned. Jacob began walking away from David as he spoke.

“My torment is endless with no salvation to be had. I want no pointless answers from you, or anyone else. I release you from your contract. Leave me to my misery, Specter.”

“Happy third anniversary, Jacob” Daniel said before he disappeared, leaving Jacob to his torment as he passed through the wall of the church and into the street.