A Christmas Carol

"It's all there, Moony, I promise you," she said, her voice faltering and nervous.

The big guy - whose full name was Elroy Nelson Moone - didn't respond. He was methodically counting a roll of notes in his hand. Bringing his thumb up to his lips, licking it, and then resuming the count. Finally, he seemed to finish. He wrapped a rubber band round the money, then place it inside a drawer, next to his chair.

"You're short," he said.

"What?! No way! Two grand you said I owed you. And that was two-thousand bucks," she said, pointing at the drawer where her money had just been deposited.

"It was two grand three days ago, sweet cheeks. But there's this pesky little thing called interest, that you seem to have failed to account for."

"Interest?!"

"You knew the rules when you borrowed the money. You pay me back in full, on time, or you incur extra fees. It's all perfectly normal. Any financial institution would do the same thing."

"So, how much do I still owe?" She sighed.

"Another two grand."

"Two grand?! Jesus, fuck! No way!"

"And it'll go up an extra thousand dollars for every day you don't pay me back."

"Well, I don't have that kind of cash on me," Freddy said, her voice clearly cracking and faltering, as she started to cry. "I'll get it. I promise, you just have to give me more time."

"Time is something you don't seem to understand all that well, is it sweet cheeks?"

"I'll find a way."

For a few moments, Moony didn't say a word. He simply sat and stared at the young woman, as she started to sob uncontrollably. He picked up a huge spliff that had previously been sat on the arm of his chair, lit it and took a huge draw. He coughed a little, as large clouds of fragrant smoke surrounded the pair of them. He looked Freddy up and down and then smiled at her.

"You know, I've been thinking about your situation. I believe we may have a way out of this that won't involve any unpleasantness."

He offered her the spliff and she took it, inhaling deeply, before handing it back.

"It is Christmas, after all," he said.

"What do you want me to do?"

"You know, sweet cheeks," nodding down towards his lap.

Freddy sighed, conveying an air of total defeat and resignation, before she slowly sank to her knees. She reached out and began to tug at Moony's pants. Suddenly, without much warning, his dick sprang out. It was only semi-hard and not that big, but she wrapped her hand round it and started to gently squeeze it.

"Why do we have to go through this ever time, little girl?" He asked, "I'd almost swear you pretend you've run out of money, just so you can pay me in kind."

She didn't respond. Instead she leant forward and swallowed his cock whole. He groaned as she started giving him head, his hands grabbing hold of her hair. He gathered up a couple of bunches and began to pull her head up and down, using her skull like a toy. She gagged and choked on him, then took deep breaths, before gagging and choking some more.

"You filthy son of a bitch, leave her alone!" Ben roared, moving forwards.

"Now, now, son, there's nothing to be done," the ghost said, holding its hand out across his chest, "we are simply witnesses at the feast. You are seeing, you are hearing, but you are not actually present. No one here can feel your presence. Your little girl is on her own."

Ben stood there, furious but impotent, as Freddy slobbered all over the fat black guy's dick. He could see that she was, despite it all, an accomplished cock-sucker. Bearing in mind her situation, she would have had every right to give the most lacklustre, desultory blowjob imaginable, but she was sucking away like a champ. Her head was bobbing up and down with gusto, her spittle leaving visible streaks on the black rod she was fellating.

"Hey, Gordy, Dimestore, get yo' asses in here!" Moony yelled out.

A door opened and two other guys walked in, both a lot younger, slimmer and better looking than their buddy.

"Fuck, man! Who's this skinny white bitch?" One of the guys asked. Ben didn't know if it was Gordy or the curiously named Dimestore.

"This my good friend, Freda," Moony said, his breath short and uncertain, "she's just clearing her debts, but it's Christmas, so I reckons she might want to give you boys a present too."

Freddy didn't say anything, she just carried on sucking and licking, but then she reached backwards and took hold of the hem of her skirt. She tugged it up, exposing a truly sumptuous ass. The two new guys grinned at each other, before pouncing on Ben's daughter.

"I don't want to see this," Ben said, "please, let's go."

But that wasn't completely true. Yes, this was awful, but he couldn't help but be a little turned on. Freddy was crying, tears were visibly rolling down her cheeks, yet she was going along with it all. She never said no, never resisted, never fought back. Over the course of the next hour, she let these three guys do whatever they wanted to her. Each one fucked her. Then they took turns to DP her. Spit roast her. And she let them. Maybe she didn't really have that much choice, but she didn't scream or get up and run away.

He wouldn't go so far as to say she had enjoyed herself, but he saw the way her body reacted. The little tremors and vibrations. The moans and groans. The way she responded when any of these guys tried to kiss; the way her tongue reached out to meet theirs. Her hands caressing naked flesh, or jerking off an erect dick. She wasn't just lying there and thinking of England. She was participating.

And - if this fat fuck was to be believed - this wasn't the first time she'd done this.

In the end, the three men stood above her, jerking themselves off. She knelt on the floor, her mouth open and her tongue out, and they came all over her face. Streams of cum crisscrossed her features, forming crazy patterns, accentuated by the black streaks of her tear-soaked mascara.

And Ben watched it all. He stood and watched his grown up daughter being violated by drug dealers. And despite everything, he was hard. He was aroused. Even though he was only there in spirit, not in any real corporeal form. Freddy was stripped naked and he could see the tattoos all over her body. He could see how much weight she had lost. Sure, she still had big tits and a phat ass, but he could see her ribs too. She wasn't well. In any way.

He cried along with her, as she picked herself up and tiptoed out of the room, a fresh bag of some drug or other in her hand, a final present from Moony and his boys.

Then the Spirit of Christmas Present swept him back up in the air, to take him home.

5

He sat on his couch, nursing a freshly poured drink. The jovial giant had disappeared. Two down, one to go, Ben told himself. He was traumatised by what he had witnessed. Deeply concerned. His sister...his daughter...was in big trouble. Everything she had told him had been a lie. The drugs. The sex. The money. Freddy was a mess.

And what about Bobbi? Her son was physically unwell. He had known that fact, but not to the true extent. That kid - that tiny Tim - was in a bad way. Really bad. Ben would have to do something about that too. What a sobering evening this had been, he thought to himself, somewhat ironically, as he downed another mouthful of scotch.

This moment of calm was only temporary. There was one more spirit due to come and pay him a visit, and Ben was in the mood to get things over with.

"Come on then, you motherfucker! I'm waiting! Let's do this!" He shouted.

"You may want to tone that down, buddy; this next guy does not fuck around," a familiar voice echoed out across the room.

"Jake?"

"Yo, pal."

The ethereal and slightly decayed form of his deceased best friend reappeared in the room. Ben had lost track of time, so he couldn't work out how long it was since he'd last seen him. Was it a matter of minutes? Or perhaps a matter of years?

"Did you know?" Ben asked.

"Know what?"

"Everything. My mom. My daughter. Bobbi's son. All the shit that's been happening."

"No, not really. When I'm not here, when I'm not taking this form, I'm in a kind of limbo. I'm not really conscious. I don't exist properly. I don't know anything."

"Oh, I see."

"Speaking of Bobbi, did we ever double-team her?"

"What?"

"You and me, did we spit roast her together?"

"No! Of course not!"

"But we did do that with some chicks, right? I think I remember that."

"Maybe...once or twice."

"Ha! Good times, pal. I miss them. I miss you."

"Yeah, me too, Jake. I miss you."

This surprisingly touching moment suddenly came to an end, with a piercing groan that struck them both silent. There was a rumbling, rattling sound that shook the room.

"Oh no," Jake whispered, "it's him."

"Who?"

"The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come."

Once more, the temperature in the room plummeted and a bell could be heard ringing out, not too far away. Then a black stain appeared on the wall. This stain increased in size and the surface seemed to expand, bubbling out, stretching into the room. It soon became clear this stain was a being of some sort. A creature that was moving through the fabric of the wall; slowly, relentlessly moving forward. Not stopping until it's entire body had entered the same living space as Ben and Jake. Well, living space was perhaps not the best descriptor for Jake, at least.

The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come had arrived.

It - it wasn't clear if it was male or female - was a tall, hooded figure. It's robes were long and jet black. The cowl covered it's face entirely, but there was an eerie glow that illuminated the fabric. Two dots of light that Ben assumed were its eyes. It didn't shuffle or walk; it glided. Moving serenely across the room, if this creature had legs or feet, they weren't remotely apparent.

As it progressed towards Ben and Jake, it made a scratching, buzzing, chirping sound. A noise not dissimilar to that of a thousand insects, calling out in the wild. At the same time, there was a hissing, wheezing, groaning noise, as if a pair of giant bellows was pumping noxious fumes into the room.

Surrounding this dark apparition was a cloud of flies and wasps, forming a sort of black, pulsing halo. The spirit reached the two men and stood still, looming over both of them.

"One more trip for the evening, buddy," Jake whispered, "and I think this time I'm coming with you."

Without saying another word, the spirit lifted a single, skeletal hand and swept its dark cloak up and around Ben and Jake, suddenly and completely enveloping them in total darkness.

They were now stood in a crappy bed sit, in a place unknown. The room was a tip. Dirty clothes and scrunched up toilet paper strewn across the floor. Unwashed plates and cups piled up here and there. In the corner of the room, a muted television screen displayed silent cartoons, featuring Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck.

The spirit stood alone impassive, simply pointing at a single bed at the far wall. On the filthy, stained mattress was the body of a young woman. Freddy was lying there, wearing nothing but a tiny pair of panties. She had lost even more weight now, she was simply a bag of bones, with track marks running up both arms. Dried vomit lay on her chest. Blood trailed down from her nose. Her eyes were wide open, glazed and looking out into the unknown. She was dead, and had been for some time.

"Freddy!" Ben gasped.

"It's just a vision of a potential future, pal," Jake said, not sounding completely sure of himself, "she's still alive."

"But look at her! Just look at her! My little girl."

"She's not dead. Not yet. There's still time to save her."

"How? How do I save her?"

"She wants you in her life, buddy. She needs you to be there for her. She needs her father. But she needs more than that. There's something missing in her life. Only you can give her that something."

"What do you mean?"

"She needs love. She needs to be loved. In every way."

"I can't. Not like that. It's wrong."

"Was it wrong when you and your mom did the same thing? There are rules, Ben, but not the ones you think. Where I am, in the void beyond death, they judge you, but not how you might imagine. Love is always right, whatever form it takes."

"I do love her. I always have."

"Yeah, but are you going to love her the right way?"

Ben looked at his dead daughter, lying on the bed, and he wept. Then the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come swept the two of them away once more.

Now they were stood in a hospital corridor. Ben could hear the beeping sound of monitors and other equipment. Ben noticed a large mural painted on the wall, showing superheroes and cartoon characters. Clearly this was a children's ward. A realisation that shot through Ben's mind.

"Bobbi," he whispered.

And there she was. No more than ten feet away, she walked slowly out of a side door. Her face was white, her eyes red and swollen. Then she turned to the wall and collapsed, sliding down and falling to the floor, howling and screaming. A nurse kneels down next to her, hugging her tightly, trying to console her.

Ben walks forward and looks through the opened door. There on a hospital bed is the shape of a small body, covered from head to toe by a sheet.

"Tim," Ben said.

"Yeah, poor little bastard," Jake replied.

"I can still save him, can't I? I can still save both of them, Freddy and Tim?"

"Sure, sure you can. There's still time. I think."

A dark shadow suddenly appeared and the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come loomed large. Jake looked at Ben and smiled.

"I suddenly have a feeling that this last trip is just for you," he said.

"What?"

The spirit swept it's cloak up, enveloping Ben completely and he disappeared into the darkness. He reappeared alone, standing in a cemetery. It was a cold morning, the air was crisp, the leaves were golden brown. He looked around and he could see a handful of people, here and there. Family members, coming to pay tribute to loved ones, now sadly departed.

Ben could spy the tall, dark shape of the spirit, as it glided away to the far corner of the cemetery. Although no one could see either of them, Ben could see people moving away from the creature, as if they were somehow subconsciously aware of its presence. He followed in its direction, curious to see why he had been brought here.

The spirit stopped at what appeared to be a newly dug grave. Ben slowly approached, a sudden sense of dread sitting in the base of the stomach, like a lead weight.

"Who's grave is this?" He asked, his voice faltering and cracking, the answer already obvious.

He had a horrible feeling he knew who this grave belonged to.

As he drew near, the ghost lifted its single bony hand and pointed at the headstone. Ben looked at it and immediately felt dizzy. Written on the black stone, in plain letters, were the following words.

Edward Ben Easter

1985-2024

R.I.P.

Ben groaned. He felt sick. He felt cold. He felt sheer panic sweep over him like a wave of ice cold water. His body shook and shivered.

"It's not too late," he murmured to himself, "I can change. I can change my life, I can change Freddy's life. And Tim's. I can change."

The spirit moved towards him, making that disturbing wheezing, scratching sound, like a steam train made of beetles and maggots and termites. Somehow Ben found himself situated between the spirit and his own grave. He staggered backwards, towards the gaping hole in the ground.

"I'll be a better man. I'll be a proper father. I can change my ways. Please, please, pleeeaasseee!"

He tumbled down into the grave, falling backwards and landing on the hard wooden top of the coffin lying deep within the ground. Slightly winded, his back aching, he turned round and looked down at the shiny wooden surface beneath him. But then suddenly the lid of the box cracked open and a pair of rotten, decaying arms reached out and grabbed hold of him.

"No! Get off me! No!" He screamed.

These rotting arms tightened they're grip around him and suddenly Ben was face to face with a familiar face. His face. Dead and lifeless, yet still moving. Maggots and cockroaches crawled out of its nose and mouth and empty black eye sockets. It felt like tendrils were wrapping themselves round his limbs. Ben was pulled ever closer to the zombie-like cadaver that bore his features.

He wailed and wailed, screamed and bellowed, as the grip of death pulled him down into the darkness.

6

He carried on screaming, as he struggled with the vice-like creature that bound him to the earth. He fell deeper and deeper, his whole body wrapped up like a mummy. He fought with the tight bands that coursed round his body.

He fell and he fell and he fell...

...and then he hit the hard ground.

Suddenly, everything was silent and Ben was tentatively aware of a bright light surrounding him. More accurately, it was daylight. He opened his eyes and saw the polished wood of his bedroom floor. The strappings and wrappings that had confined him in their grasp were nothing more than the sheets on his bed, tied round his limbs.

He was lying face down, wearing his pyjamas, having fallen no more than the few feet that stretched out between the top of his mattress and the hard floor below.

"I'm...I'm alive," he whispered, "I'm alive! Oh thank God, I'm alive!" His voice rising markedly in level and tone.

He scrambled up on his feet, looking around him. Everything was in its allotted place. Everything seemed perfectly, reliably, indisputably normal. Ben could barely believe his eyes. That grim, lonely graveyard seemed a million miles away. A million years. He paced around, rubbing his eyes feverishly.

"I'm alive, I'm alive, I'm alive," he kept jabbering.

Then, he pulled on a pair of pants and a t-shirt, grabbed a coat and sprinted out of the apartment, heading downstairs. He reached the sidewalk and breathed in the early morning air. His heart was racing, everything seemed so vivid. There was a new clarity to everything he saw and heard.

There was a clarity too to what he must do next. Ben looked up, his eyes scanning the street. He saw a young kid hanging around a few feet away from him.

"Hey, buddy?" Ben shouted.

The kid looked up.

"Hey, pal, can you do me a favour?"

"Is this some weird sex shit, man?" The kid asked, "if so, I am not interested."

"No, no, no, it's nothing like that."

Ben pulled out a wad of notes from his pocket."

"Look, kid, here's a hundred bucks. You know the deli round the block? I want you to go there and buy the biggest turkey they have. There's a huge one in the window. If it's still there, get it, bring it to me. And you can keep the change."

"You shitting me?"

"No, here's the cash."

The kid shrugged, walked over and took the money. Then he sprinted off in the direction of the deli Ben had mentioned.

Fifteen minutes later Ben was clambering out of a taxi, with a huge bag in one hand, containing a chilled turkey, and a bottle of wine in the other. He bolted up three flights of stairs and started banging on the door of an apartment. Finally, the door opened and a surprised Bobbi stood staring at him.

"Ben?"

"Merry Christmas!" He bellowed, before wrapping her up in his arms.

"What's going on? Why are you here?"

"I wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas. It is Christmas, isn't it?"

"Well yeah...uh...happy Christmas."

"I brought a turkey," he said, suddenly waving the bag from the deli at her.

"Ben, I'm vegan."

"Oh...well, fuck the turkey then," he stated, dropping the unwanted poultry in a nearby garbage can.

"Seriously, Ben, why are you doing here?"