Originally written in 2003, this was my first Christmas story and is in a dire need of a rewrite. We shall see what 2019 will bring.
***
‘Twas getting late on Christmas Eve, so I left L-Ron in charge of the Key West. I took a big yawn and exited the bridge. Several waitresses hustled passed me by without saying a word, however, one did shout, “Merry Christmas, Cap’n.”
To which I shouted back, “You’re still working tomorrow… lass.”
Minutes later I stopped in front of me room; the door refused to open. I pushed manual button several times, nothing happened to which I cursed, “Oh Pooh.” As I tried to figure out how to end my predicament an image began to form on the door. It slowly formed into a skull; I couldn’t believe me disbelieving eyes. I closed them and shook my salt and pepper head, as I opened them the image was gone and the door flew open.
L-Ron and the boys are having a little fun I surmised and fast as I could I entered the room, where a freshly cooked pizza awaited me. I took a couple of slices and sat down in front of the view screen. It turned itself on as I sat down, the latest Imperial news played; still no news on Commander Tara Wolf.
I shook my head and inhaled the slices. They were washed down by a glass of ice cold root beer. I then leaned back in me chair and flipped off me shoes. I had just shut me tired eyes when I heard what sounded like a chain rattling.
This is going to get on my nerves pretty quick so I opened my eyes and nonchalantly stated, “Ok L-Ron, you’ve had your fun, enough.”
The sound of ice cold chain rattling continued, however; I angrily rose from my chair to find the disobedient robots. The sound grew louder as I neared me private room. I placed my ear on the door to get a better listen to. Alas the sound grew faint, so I entered the room expecting to see the boys up to no good.
The door flew open as I screamed, “Ah Ha!” My index finger blazed the way at nothing, the room was empty. I cautiously entered the vacant room, “Hello?” I timidly asked.
I turned back around at the open door and quickly high tailed it back to the warm room. I sat back down in my chair and tried to close me eyes when I thought I heard someone say me name. I quickly threw the warm blanket over me head and shook like a terrified coward that I was.
My name was weakly repeated; it grew louder with each repeat. Suddenly, the voice took a rich heavy Jamaican accent, “Whitebread Mon.”
I recognized the voice, but it couldn’t be the voice. The man behind the voice had been dead for nearly fifteen years. I slowly pulled the throw off me head. A ghostly apparition soon appeared… my mouth hit the floor in utter disbelief as a mysterious fog slowly formed on the floor. In front of me a specter of me past slowly formed; me old business partner: Bob Marley, in chains. His ‘body’ was completely encompassed with ice cold metal chains attached to two heavy metal boxes on the floor.
“Bob Marley?” I asked dumbfounded.
His chains continued to rattle as he replied, “Whitebread dude,” he stopped and took a hit of something I thought ghosts wouldn’t smoke, “I’ve come to help you.”
“Me?” I asked pulling my head back, “I ought to save you.”
“My chains are from my selfish greedy life; I wear the chains I forged in life,” replied the Jamaican Ghost. “I made it link by link, and yard by yard; I girded it on of my own free will, and of my own free will I wore it. Is its pattern strange to you?”
I began to tremble as he continue to speak “Or would you know,” pursued the Specter, “The weight and length of the strong coil you bear yourself? It was full as heavy and as long as this, fifteen Christmas Eves ago. You have labored on it, since. It is a ponderous chain!”
I glanced around expecting to see fifty or sixty phantoms with iron cables surrounding; but I could see nothing as Marley continued,” However, you bear such a burden, no man has ever bore,” he flatly stated as he put his hands on his chest, in a pleading manner.
I turned around the room looking up as I balked, “Ok L-Ron, you’ve had your fun.”
The specter’s demeanor quickly changed, “You Fool! L-Ron has nothing to do with this! Why do you not believe me?” He stopped and took another hit as the eerie fog continued to rise from the floor.
“I don’t,” I replied as I folded me arms.
“Why do you doubt your senses, Mon?”
“Because,” said me, “A little thing affects them; a slight disorder of the stomach makes them cheats. You may be an undigested bit of cheese pizza, a blot of tomato sauce, a crumb of garlic, a fragment of crust. There's more of gravy than of grave about you, whatever you are!''
As I was about to continue when I heard multiple voices lowly mutter me name; I slowly turned around and gazed out the view port. I wish I hadn’t, I saw an unnumbered amount of chained ghosts floating outside in cold space; all moaning me name. They weren’t holograms; every hair on me neck stood up along with me salt and pepper hair.
I turned my attention back to the floating chained apparition. I slowly asked, “Why me? I can think of several Imperial officers worse than me.”
“There’s still some good in you, Mon,” he softly stated then his voice changed into that of a stern warning, “You will be visited by three spirits tonight. They will show you the way.” As he finished speaking he slowly began to dematerialize. “Remember,” he said as it began to echo.
“WAIT!” I thundered, but it was too late for me; the ghost of Bob Marley was gone.
“BAH!” I bellowed. I ran over to a drawer and pulled out a blaster; if I was going to be visited by three more phantoms….
