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A Midsummers' Carol - Part Four
by Clint Driftwood

Read the story from the beginning

This Dickens parody was the winner in the prose section of our Summer Parodies competition, and was originally contributed to the Fantasy Archers topic on The Archers .

Upon entering his bedroom Aldridge locked the door behind him then lit two candles that were on opposite ends of the mantle. The room smelt musty and damp, it was in dire need of an airing but the window was shut fast through lack of use. Aldridge seated himself at his beside chair and removed his shoes, waggling his toes with relief. The cheesy odour of socks held captive between the feet of their owner and a pair tight shoeÂ’s for long periods in hot weather soon overcame the musty smell of the room.

When Crawford had lived there he had installed a four-poster bed as a special treat; to himself in the main, for when he entertained certain ladies. And it was to this that Aldridge was about to retire when he heard the grandfather clock in the hall downstairs begin to chime manically, the hammer striking the bell at twice its usual rate. It may have lasted for a minute or an hour he could not tell, the clashing din reverberated throughout the mansion, and inside his skull, lights flashed in mind. As suddenly as it started it ended, Aldridge lay on his bed sweating and breathing heavily.

His respite was short lived; from somewhere deep in then bowels of the house came a very loud and much unexpected thud. He then became sensible of metallic rasping, scraping sound. Faint at first, as from quite a distance off, becoming louder and louder still, and then he fancied it sounded as if it were slowly climbing the marble staircase.
"Humbug, its all humbug, there is nothing there." He spoke these words aloud to see if the sound of his own voice would rouse him to wakefulness, and free from the grip of this nightmare that he surmised he was dreaming. His words had no effect.

The noise continued and he judged by its volume and clarity that whatever it was that was making it must be now directly outside his bedroom door. A mist began to force itself into his bedchamber; it entered through the keyhole, under the door, over the door, and by any way between the door and the frame that was not sealed.

Aldridge looked on not daring to move a muscle, the colour drained from his face as the mist then spiralled and cavorted in front of the locked door and congealed, before him stood a transparent ghostly presence.
"I know him, its Matt Crawford," Aldridge thought, "Yes! ItÂ’s his face."
It was indeed his face, and his business suit, and his shoes. Fastened around his waist was a long and heavy chain, which the apparition continued to draw through the keyhole in the form of mist that transformed to become chain on contact with the floor.

It was a ponderous thing to behold, and Aldridge, observing it from only nine feet away was reminded of a steamship's anchor chain. Fixed onto its links were cash boxes, ledgers, deeds, and even a safe, all made from cast-iron. Finally the chains end was reached and it lay coiled around the phantoms feet like a gigantic sleeping serpent.

The Ghost now looked directly at Aldridge. Unable to think of any better course, and still doubting his senses Aldridge, summoning as much courage as he could muster enquired, "So Sir, What business do you have with me?"
"Much." Replied the Spirit sternly.
There was no denying it, even after seven years without hearing it; Aldridge still knew CrawfordÂ’s voice when he heard it.
Aldridge, thinking of no better way to further the conversation asked, "Who are you?"
"Ask me who I was." Returned the Phantom.
"If this really is the ghost of Crawford," Aldridge thought, "Then seven years in the grave has not weakened his pedantic resolve." He spoke as instructed, "Who were you then?"
"In life I was your partner, Matt Crawford."
"Can you sit?" asked Aldridge.
"I can." Came the reply.
"Then do so," Aldridge commanded, using the same tone as he used when speaking to his secretary.

The ghost, seemingly not noticing AldridgeÂ’s tone moved across the bedroom and sat down on a chair next to the fireplace.
"You donÂ’t believe in me?" said the Ghost; it was more a statement of fact than a question.
"I do not." Aldridge concurred.
"Then you do not believe the evidence of your own eyes," The Spirit questioned, "What would you have me do to prove my existence when you do not trust your senses?"
"I do not know Sir," Aldridge replied, "I have no knowledge of the extent of your powers."
"Why do you not trust your senses?" The Ghost remonstrated.
"Because," Said Aldridge, "They are far too easily affected by small things. The onset of a malady or perhaps a disorder of the stomach, you could be an undigested crumb of cheese, morsel of chicken, a fragment of undercooked apple pie, I tell you Sir there is more of spaghetti than spectre about you."
Aldridge was not in the habit of making jokes, nor did he at this time feel like a comedian. He did it in order to distract his attention from the ghostÂ’s voice, which filled him with terror.
"You see this cocktail stick?" Asked Aldridge.
"I do." Replied the Ghost.
"But you are not looking at it." Aldridge observed.
"I see it just the same." Said the Ghost.
Aldridge continued on his tack, "If I were to swallow it and not seek a surgeonÂ’s aid in its removal, I would be tormented by phantoms of my own making for the rest of my natural days."

The Spirit on hearing this let out a terrible, unearthly cry and shook its chain, which sounded to Aldridge as it, must be the very bell at hells gate that tolled. Aldridge fell to his knees in despair,
"No more! Please I beg you" Aldridge sobbed.
"Do you believe in me or not?" The Ghost asked.
"Oh I do, I do" Aldridge cried, then in a quieter but still tremulous voice he enquired, "But tell me, why are you abroad on the earth, and why do you haunt me?"
"It is the charge of every human being," Said the Ghost, "That the spirit within should go forth and travel far and wide amongst its fellowman, if not in life then it is condemned to do so in death, without hope of rest or redemption, to witness what it could have changed in the lives of otherÂ’s and chose not to."
The Ghost again let out a fearful cry of despair and shook its chain.
"But Spirit," Said Aldridge, "You are chained?"
"I manufactured this chain throughout my lifetime with my own hand, link by link; it was forged in the fire of my greed. I fastened it about my waist of my own free will." The Ghost then asked, "Do you recognise its design?"
Aldridge shivered.
"You should know well its design; you yourself had one as long as this and half again some seven summers ago!"
Aldridge looked at his feet expecting to see it, but it was not there.
"It is there I can assure you," Said the Ghost, "But only in death will you see it, and then you shall strain for all eternity at the labour of its enormity."

"Matt, be a friend to me now as you were in life, I beg you." Aldridge implored "Tell me more; give me a hope for my redemption. I do not believe that you appear to me now just to bring terror to my house."
"Words of hope I have few to give save these, take them as you may, but I advise that you mark them well Brian Aldridge. The words of hope you ask of will come to you, but not from me, they will come in another way as I have little time left here, I cannot tarry. I was doomed from the moment of my death to travel the earth without rest, for all eternity in torment. In life my spirit never left our office and for that I must now atone." said the Ghost wearily.

"But Matt, you were a good businessman." said Aldridge, in such a way that he sounded as if he were pleading his dead friends case before a magistrate.
"Business!" Wailed the Ghost, "Mankind was my business, which I chose to ignore in order to lust after wealth. I did not, or should I say that I made a conscious decision not heed the Good Books teachings; that my eternal salvation lay in helping those less fortunate," Taking up his chain once more and holding it out in plain view of Aldridge, he cried, "And here is my lifeÂ’s profit before your eyes Sir! For being as you say, a good businessman" And dropped the chain.

The Ghost said this in such a lamentable fashion that Aldridge, his witÂ’s having taken such a pounding this night, made to reach out his hand to place it on his friends shoulder to comfort him, but the great boom that rang out as the chain hit the floorboards soon brought back what little was left, he became aware that he could see the back of the chair through transparent figure seated on it, and thinking better of his action, withdrew his hand.

"Hear me!" shrieked the Ghost, "My time here is almost up."
"I will, I will listen," said Aldridge, adding hurriedly, "Please tell me what truth you are able, but I beg of you Matt, go easy."

The Ghost resumed "How it is that you can see me tonight I do not know, I have sat by your side in the office in an invisible form many a time as part of my penance."
A cold shiver ran down AldridgeÂ’s spine at the thought.
"I am to tell you that while you live you still have a chance to escape my fate, but mark this, you must act upon this chance as it will be your last." the Ghost cautioned
"I will, I will Matt." confirmed Aldridge.
"You will be haunted three more times." said the Ghost.
Yet again a shiver ran down AldridgeÂ’s spine and he felt sick in the pit of his stomach.
"Is this the chance you spoke of Matt?" Aldridge asked, meekly
"It is." replied the Ghost.
Aldridge afraid that he had already lost his mind after only one haunting said, "Then I would rather not if you donÂ’t mind."
"Without their visits there is no hope for you, you will be condemned to walk the path that I do now and youÂ’re chain will be all the weightier for it," Expect the first when the clock in the hall strikes one tomorrow night, and the second at the same hour the next night and the third the same hour on the next night." The Ghost informed, getting to its feet. "My Time is up; you will not see me again. I beg of you Brian Aldridge mark my words well."
The Ghost then began to walk backwards and as it did so the window that had been fast shut, started to open a little at a time with each step. Aldridge stood, and went to follow crying, "Matt! Please donÂ’t go tell me more I beg of you."

Putting its hand out before it the Ghost commended, "Stop, come no further."
The end of the chain rose into the air and moved out of the window, as it went the Ghost began to rotate. Faster the chain disappeared and faster the Ghost spun letting out a chilling scream that rose in pitch as the rate of rotation increased. The Ghost became a blur, a phantom whirlpool. Aldridge covered his ears with his hands to shut out the terrible noise, but the sound disappeared as it gained such a frequency as to be inaudible to human ears. The Phantom was pulled out into the night.

Read Part Five, in which Aldridge is shown his past

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