Post by linkbylink on Dec 25, 2010 0:24:08 GMT -5
Fifteen Christmas Eves ago...
December 24th, 1995
Dave Anderson had worked late on Christmas Eve. That's how he always had worked, married or not. Perhaps this was one of the reasons for his infamous divorce. The rest of the congressmen had heard about it, and they had soon looked upon him with different eyes. Their suspicions were true, they had realized: Dave really and truly was a heartless person, to a mere human extent. He only wanted to be left alone, and left alone he was. Yet his work became faster and more efficient than if he had been working with someone else, so no one had a chance to complain.
No one, except for one particular person. However, Dave would meet that person face-to-face soon enough.
So, at that moment, Dave was alone in his office. Alone, working on some paperwork. Looking it over. Editing it. Making some notes for one of his coworkers to check for when looking over the bill again. After all, it had to be absolute perfection when it would be presented to the House. Absolute perfection. And all by hand, circling errors and making notes with the pen, jotting things down as necessary.
"Why don't you use the computer?" he had been asked.
"It's broken," Dave had replied. "It's been broken all week. If you're too daft to realize that I've been telling you this over and over again, then I doubt you're fit to run for Congress again next term."
Ignoring all requests to fix it, Dave had continued to make handwritten notes. Because of this, Dave worked long into the night, long after his coworkers had left - some to rest, some to make the (sometimes long) drive home to spend time with their families... Dave would have none of that. If the job didn't get done, then he would be fired from his position, one of the highest positions in the country. For where else would he be able to interact personally with President Clinton? It was certainly a good deal, a position in the highest part of the hierarchy in the country in exchange for bone-breaking hard work.
How long until this load of work would be done? Probably not for another six hours. Dave groaned as he set down his pen, clutching his hand in a sudden cramp.
What he didn't expect was the air to groan back at him.
Dave looked up, before wiping his eyes. It was probably the wind outside, although he didn't know how the wind could have a humanlike groan. Shrugging, he got back to his work.
CLANK.
Dave looked up again, now alert. There was a noise coming from outside the door. A rather loud noise, actually. Dave shrugged it off again, figuring it must have been the pipes. The pipes sometimes clanked...
CLANK. CLANK. CLANK. CLANK.
... although... not in slow, consistent rhythm like that. Crap.
"Hello?" Dave called out, looking around the empty room. A pause. No one. "Is this a trick? Well... it's a trick all right," Dave muttered to himself, returning to his work. "A trick of my mind."
BOOM. CLANK. BOOM. CLANK. BOOM. CLANK. BOOM. CLANK.
Dave shivered. He felt a chill running down his spine. He turned to look at the thermostat. It was nearly seventy-eight degrees. Seventy-eight degrees! That was surely no reason to shiver. And the window was securely shut, too. So why was it...?
Just then, the computer (which, as stated before, had been broken for the past week) immediately sprung to life with a single message on its black screen:
REPENT
Dave blinked. He rubbed his eyes but the message did not go away.
"Hmm. Maybe it's not a coincidence. Maybe I'm just dreaming," Dave attempted to convince himself as he rubbed his temples with two fingers. "Maybe it's all in my head because I didn't get enough sleep tonight. Right... maybe I fell asleep on my desk and dreamed this bull-crap all up. That's the most reasonable explanation." He then stated out loud (for he was positive there was no one else in the offices, "Whoever or whatever you are, you aren't real. I'm dreaming, I need sleep, I need coffee. So now that that's done and over with, the noises WILL stop. They WILL stop. They SHOULD stop, because whoever or whatever is making them is not real. Either it's not real, or just a bunch of rats in the pipes..." He muttered this last part under his breath. "I think I scared them away now... now, back to work... See? Not real..."
"That's what they all say," a voice echoed throughout the office.
"Yes, quite..." Dave started, before doing a double-take. "Wait, what? Who...?"
"It gets quite tiring, actually, when you get the same reaction over and over again with each of your entrances. 'Oh, my good man, you aren't real. You're an undigested bit of beef. A crumb of moldy cheese. A glass of expired milk. A bit of mashed potato that was on the floor for ten days. A piece of dog crap,'" the voice continued. "And then there are the 'logical reasons'. 'Oh, I ate some bad food.' 'I didn't get enough sleep last night.' 'Is that my mother-in-law?' I tell you, it gets boring! For once, can't anyone accept the fact that I have good intentions by coming in here looking like this?"
Dave looked toward the door, where the voice seemed to be coming from, and gasped when a figure literally walked through the door toward him. The man - quite honestly, upon first glance, the figure looked more of a corpse than a man - was dressed in his best, however tattered perhaps from age, and completely adorned with chains of all sizes and weights. He looked somewhat familiar, from a book Dave had once read in his youth, but he couldn't quite put his finger on where, or who.
"So..." Dave stated, looking up at the curious visitor with a raised, intrigued eyebrow. "What do you want?"
The man scowled. "Much," he had replied.
The name was coming back to him... Oh! It was on the tip of his tongue...
Dave scowled back, his scowl looking much more intimidating than that of his guest's. "Who are you, if I may ask, if you aren't a figment of my imagination?"
The man rolled his eyes. "If you must know... ask me who I was."
Dave rolled his eyes. "I don't have time for this bull. Just say what you have to say and leave. I have work to do." His guest only glared at him, and Dave glared back, and they glared at each other for quite a bit of time, while deep inside he was trying to figure out who this man was... and why he was so familiar.
The man narrowed his eyes, and started to walk at a quick pace toward Dave's desk, chains dragging behind him. Finally, he reached the front of Dave's desk and slammed his hands on the corners of the desk.
"I'm Jacob freakin' Marley. You don't recognize me?" the man stated bluntly.
"Not much," Dave stated just as blunt. "I've seen pictures, but I've never dealt with you in person."
Marley rolled his eyes. "Well, since I seem to be a new face to you, I guess I'll have to repeat my normal spheal about repenting and all..."
Dave sighed. "A spheal? Oh, Chr..."
Marley sighed. "If you want it in a nutshell... you're acting like an old piece of crap who hates everything, and if you keep doing so, then you're going to end up like me when you die and suffer for the rest of eternity. So yeah, change your ways and stuff."
Dave grunted. He already hated this guy.
"So I'm going to be an annoying nag in my afterlife? Fun. Fine, I'll change," he grunted.
"Really? Well, that was-"
"In your dreams, old man," Dave retorted, before returning to his work.
"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"
[/i][/color] Marley rose above the desk and wailed like a banshee, desperate to get Dave's undivided attention.December 24th, 1995
Dave Anderson had worked late on Christmas Eve. That's how he always had worked, married or not. Perhaps this was one of the reasons for his infamous divorce. The rest of the congressmen had heard about it, and they had soon looked upon him with different eyes. Their suspicions were true, they had realized: Dave really and truly was a heartless person, to a mere human extent. He only wanted to be left alone, and left alone he was. Yet his work became faster and more efficient than if he had been working with someone else, so no one had a chance to complain.
No one, except for one particular person. However, Dave would meet that person face-to-face soon enough.
So, at that moment, Dave was alone in his office. Alone, working on some paperwork. Looking it over. Editing it. Making some notes for one of his coworkers to check for when looking over the bill again. After all, it had to be absolute perfection when it would be presented to the House. Absolute perfection. And all by hand, circling errors and making notes with the pen, jotting things down as necessary.
"Why don't you use the computer?" he had been asked.
"It's broken," Dave had replied. "It's been broken all week. If you're too daft to realize that I've been telling you this over and over again, then I doubt you're fit to run for Congress again next term."
Ignoring all requests to fix it, Dave had continued to make handwritten notes. Because of this, Dave worked long into the night, long after his coworkers had left - some to rest, some to make the (sometimes long) drive home to spend time with their families... Dave would have none of that. If the job didn't get done, then he would be fired from his position, one of the highest positions in the country. For where else would he be able to interact personally with President Clinton? It was certainly a good deal, a position in the highest part of the hierarchy in the country in exchange for bone-breaking hard work.
How long until this load of work would be done? Probably not for another six hours. Dave groaned as he set down his pen, clutching his hand in a sudden cramp.
What he didn't expect was the air to groan back at him.
Dave looked up, before wiping his eyes. It was probably the wind outside, although he didn't know how the wind could have a humanlike groan. Shrugging, he got back to his work.
CLANK.
Dave looked up again, now alert. There was a noise coming from outside the door. A rather loud noise, actually. Dave shrugged it off again, figuring it must have been the pipes. The pipes sometimes clanked...
CLANK. CLANK. CLANK. CLANK.
... although... not in slow, consistent rhythm like that. Crap.
"Hello?" Dave called out, looking around the empty room. A pause. No one. "Is this a trick? Well... it's a trick all right," Dave muttered to himself, returning to his work. "A trick of my mind."
BOOM. CLANK. BOOM. CLANK. BOOM. CLANK. BOOM. CLANK.
Dave shivered. He felt a chill running down his spine. He turned to look at the thermostat. It was nearly seventy-eight degrees. Seventy-eight degrees! That was surely no reason to shiver. And the window was securely shut, too. So why was it...?
Just then, the computer (which, as stated before, had been broken for the past week) immediately sprung to life with a single message on its black screen:
REPENT
Dave blinked. He rubbed his eyes but the message did not go away.
"Hmm. Maybe it's not a coincidence. Maybe I'm just dreaming," Dave attempted to convince himself as he rubbed his temples with two fingers. "Maybe it's all in my head because I didn't get enough sleep tonight. Right... maybe I fell asleep on my desk and dreamed this bull-crap all up. That's the most reasonable explanation." He then stated out loud (for he was positive there was no one else in the offices, "Whoever or whatever you are, you aren't real. I'm dreaming, I need sleep, I need coffee. So now that that's done and over with, the noises WILL stop. They WILL stop. They SHOULD stop, because whoever or whatever is making them is not real. Either it's not real, or just a bunch of rats in the pipes..." He muttered this last part under his breath. "I think I scared them away now... now, back to work... See? Not real..."
"That's what they all say," a voice echoed throughout the office.
"Yes, quite..." Dave started, before doing a double-take. "Wait, what? Who...?"
"It gets quite tiring, actually, when you get the same reaction over and over again with each of your entrances. 'Oh, my good man, you aren't real. You're an undigested bit of beef. A crumb of moldy cheese. A glass of expired milk. A bit of mashed potato that was on the floor for ten days. A piece of dog crap,'" the voice continued. "And then there are the 'logical reasons'. 'Oh, I ate some bad food.' 'I didn't get enough sleep last night.' 'Is that my mother-in-law?' I tell you, it gets boring! For once, can't anyone accept the fact that I have good intentions by coming in here looking like this?"
Dave looked toward the door, where the voice seemed to be coming from, and gasped when a figure literally walked through the door toward him. The man - quite honestly, upon first glance, the figure looked more of a corpse than a man - was dressed in his best, however tattered perhaps from age, and completely adorned with chains of all sizes and weights. He looked somewhat familiar, from a book Dave had once read in his youth, but he couldn't quite put his finger on where, or who.
"So..." Dave stated, looking up at the curious visitor with a raised, intrigued eyebrow. "What do you want?"
The man scowled. "Much," he had replied.
The name was coming back to him... Oh! It was on the tip of his tongue...
Dave scowled back, his scowl looking much more intimidating than that of his guest's. "Who are you, if I may ask, if you aren't a figment of my imagination?"
The man rolled his eyes. "If you must know... ask me who I was."
Dave rolled his eyes. "I don't have time for this bull. Just say what you have to say and leave. I have work to do." His guest only glared at him, and Dave glared back, and they glared at each other for quite a bit of time, while deep inside he was trying to figure out who this man was... and why he was so familiar.
The man narrowed his eyes, and started to walk at a quick pace toward Dave's desk, chains dragging behind him. Finally, he reached the front of Dave's desk and slammed his hands on the corners of the desk.
"I'm Jacob freakin' Marley. You don't recognize me?" the man stated bluntly.
"Not much," Dave stated just as blunt. "I've seen pictures, but I've never dealt with you in person."
Marley rolled his eyes. "Well, since I seem to be a new face to you, I guess I'll have to repeat my normal spheal about repenting and all..."
Dave sighed. "A spheal? Oh, Chr..."
Marley sighed. "If you want it in a nutshell... you're acting like an old piece of crap who hates everything, and if you keep doing so, then you're going to end up like me when you die and suffer for the rest of eternity. So yeah, change your ways and stuff."
Dave grunted. He already hated this guy.
"So I'm going to be an annoying nag in my afterlife? Fun. Fine, I'll change," he grunted.
"Really? Well, that was-"
"In your dreams, old man," Dave retorted, before returning to his work.
"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"
"You're going to have a good reason to sound like that if you don't leave, Mister Marley," Dave muttered, not looking up.
Now extremely desperate, Marley transformed into many horrifying images: a skeleton horse, a demon, a decrepit corpse, a snarling wolf, but nothing made Dave look up. Finally, Marley gave up and sank back to the floor, although he sat on the corner of Dave's desk.
"You've honestly seen everything, haven't you?" Marley moaned, now desolate.
"Yup," Dave replied, before looking back up at Marley. "If you know what's best for you, you'll find another Scrooge to bother, because I have better things to do than to listen to you rattle on and on about peace and good will."
"My chains haven't moved all that much, though. Only a few times," Marley pointed out.
"I know. I meant your mouth. Do me a favor and tie that thing up. I think your jaw's coming loose from moving it so much," Dave retorted, before setting his pen aside. "And while you're at it, go to Hell."
"From these past few minutes we've exchanged conversation, I'd rather be there right now," Marley remarked flatly.
"I'm not stopping you. Have a nice evening, sir. Good bye."
"Because, you know, Dave... I'm sort of bound to you."
"Good bye, sir."
"I can't leave you, Dave."
"GOOD BYE, SIR."
"I WISH I COULD BID YOU THE SAME," Marley roared. "Although I can't, because you and I? We're stuck together. For how long, I don't know, but... until you see what a total unobservant crab you've been, or even beyond that... we're stuck."
Dave didn't respond.
"DAVE!" Marley roared, throwing himself over Dave's desk and, his front planted on Dave's desk and therefore scattering his papers and knocking his computer over, getting in Dave's face, "I'm not sure you see how serious this is. You don't get my situation, what I've gone through all these years..."
"I'm sure I'd love to hear," Dave remarked flatly.
"For years on end, I was wandering the world, without aim or purpose, because of my eternal punishment... my soul was condemned to eternal travel because in life, I never left my work, my business, similar to what I see you doing right now, and now, my work has never left me. For you see, I should have paid more attention to my fellow man. I should have seen the gifts they had to offer that were not made of gold or silver." Marley then began to roll around on Dave's desk, much to the living man's dismay, and knocking more things over. The cashboxes on Marley's chains swung around and knocked off what Marley himself didn't destroy with his mere presence as he continued his monologue, "I should have made friends, acquaintances, and eventually fell in love and had a happy life. But no! My friends were in the shape of coins, my acquaintances were gold and silver, and the only thing I had a chance to make out with was myself... wait, that sounded wrong. Never mind." Marley then rolled back onto his belly. "It's hard improvising these speeches, you know. You never know when someone might get the wrong message. Anyway... where was I? Oh, yeah... WOE IS ME!" He spun himself around so he was laying on his back parallel to the long side of the rectangular desk. "WOE IS ME, since I did not listen to my inner conscience, and therefore had to spend my entire eternity in CONSTANT MISERY! If only I had listened in life, then maybe... maybe I would have not died so soon..."
Dave looked at Marley sprawled out on his desk, his eyebrow raised. "Are you sure you were a businessman? Because to me, you seem like an actor. A very melodramatic one. You would have certainly made more as someone dressed in tights performing Shakespeare."
Marley sat up. "Very funny. Anyway... wait, I forgot what I was going to say next. Huh." Marley shrugged.
"'Oh, woe is me?'"
"Well, I'm glad you finally feel that way, but this is ME we're talking about here..." Marley mused, ignoring the main purpose of Dave's statement.
Dave groaned, and buried his head in his hands. "Marley, can you do me a favor?"
"Anything. I am your new best friend for all eternity, like it or not."
"Please... take one of those keys around your neck and stab me in the heart repeatedly with it. Until I die. A very painful death," Dave whined without looking up.
Marley had, of course, ignored this request, and their bickering had continued until dawn, where Dave had fallen asleep at his desk. When he awoke, he was surprised to see his belongings scattered around the office as if the events from the night before had actually happened. Dave was about to pick up his now-hopeless computer when a long chain wrapped around his ankle.
"Merry Christmas, Dave."
Dave then did what anyone would have done at that moment, when one would have realized the previously-thought impossible events of the previous night were proven to be true. He screamed at the top of his lungs. Thankfully, no one had come in to work, since it was Christmas.
After that night, however, his coworkers had heard strange noises coming from his office, so it was only natural to assume it was haunted. By whom or what, no one could ever tell, but for the rest of Dave's term with Congress, and the duration his job at Wall Street after that, visitors to his office could sometimes hear moaning coming from the walls... and the sound of clanking chains...
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