A PATAKI CHRISTMAS CAROL

Stave 3 – Christmas Past (Part 1)

Had Helga awoken in her bed, she may have quite easily disregarded the night's strange happenings as a bizarre and cruel dream. But she did not. Instead, her eyes opened to find herself lying prone on the soft, cold carpet of her bedroom floor. She knew by the moisture still drying on her cheeks that, were she to see her reflection, those eyes would be red from tears. For a short while, Helga lay quietly, her mind replaying the earlier events over and over as if straining to find some suitable cause to dismiss the whole thing as fantasy. She had sleepwalked before, after all – never without the infamous pork rinds but still, perhaps. Helga clung to this notion as if it were a raft on the sea; perhaps it was the caffeine from the night's earlier energy drink, or the stress she was facing from school. 'Maybe I'm unconscious on the sidewalk from hitting Arnold, and this whole thing is a hallucination. That kind of junk happens all the time on TV.' As these ideas and explanations floated through her reeling mind, it suddenly dawned on Helga that she was still lying directly below her bedroom window. An involuntary shudder coursed through her as her mind replayed what she had seen when she last looked through it. Surely such a horrific sight could never have been real. 'But what does that say about my imagination?' Determined to prove her sanity against this thought, Helga closed her eyes tightly, gritted her teeth, and slowly rose. Clambering blindly to the window, she steeled herself, breathing deeply, and slowly opened her eyes once more.

Nothing. No ghosts, or chains. No pained, spectral figures. The road and sky were clear, save for the thick snowflakes which continued to fall. Helga gazed out, scrutinising the street for the slightest sign of anything unusual. Any tiny indication that her earlier vision had truly occurred. No such clue came forward. The night, in fact, seemed utterly serene and still, the snow settling in a blanket wherever it fell. Even in the darkness, this white covering seemed to generate its own faint glow, quite different to the ghostly light Helga had witnessed earlier, somehow highlighting every surface and corner in stark detail. The serenity was finally broken as a large and snow-dusted cat prowled silently out of a nearby alley, its bright green eyes staring briefly in Helga's direction. As the creature darted away, leaving a faint trail of soft pawprints, Helga found herself oddly comforted. In the face of such a terrible experience, it pleased her to find that something, anything, was alive with her on this long night. For the first time in years, Helga did not want to be alone.

'And there you have it,' Helga thought to herself. 'No spooks or spirits; I'm just going crazy. Nice, normal, perfectly rational crazy. Crazy I can handle, probably by laying off caffeine for a while.'

Releasing a long breath, one that she had not entirely realised she was holding, Helga finally turned from the window and resolved to return to bed. She hoped that being awake so late would allow her to sleep through most of the next day – perhaps she could avoid this Christmas nonsense entirely. This thought spurred Helga to realise that, in fact, she had no idea how late it really was. How long had she lain on her floor, dead to the world? Settling under her covers, she reached for her phone to satisfy this curiosity. 12.55am. Helga's heart skipped a beat, Miriam's closing words seeming to reverberate in her mind; 'Expect the first ghost tomorrow, when the bell tolls one'.

"Well there you go," Helga spoke aloud, hoping the sound of even her own voice would quell the uneasy feeling growing in the pit of her stomach. "Another five minutes, then I can put this whole freaky business behind me and finally get some shuteye. And besides, what bell Miriam? It's not like Big Barney's actually worked in years…" She trailed off, nervously chuckling at her own small joke. But try as she might, Helga could not tear her eyes away from the slowly moving clock.

'57, 58, 59.' As Helga counted down the minutes, the silent stillness of the room seemed to bear down on her. She would never admit, not even to herself, that as the final seconds ebbed away she was truly, deeply terrified. She held her breath, unable to tear her eyes away. Unable to even blink.

'BONG!'

Helga barely even had time to register the sight of the clock turning to 1am when the silence was shattered by one epic, booming chime. Not for the first time that night, Helga shrieked, the shock of the sudden burst causing her to jolt out of her bed to land clumsily, tangled in bedsheets on the floor. The sound was not like the chaotic ringing that heralded Miriam's appearance, nor was it like the terrible howl that Miriam herself had expressed. It had seemed to resonate from within Helga's own mind.

"Crimeny, what the hell!?" Helga groaned, her limbs sore from the short fall. She suddenly became aware, even with her eyes closed, that a brilliant light now illuminated her room. Shielding her eyes from the glare, she turned to the find source. Though barely open, her eyes burned and watered as they tried to focus on the radiant presence mere feet away.

'Look upon me, child. Do not be afraid.' Again, the sound seemed to come from within Helga's own head. The voice was so soft. Male or female, Helga found herself unable to tell, and at the same time the voice seemed completely ageless. The only word that Helga could quickly find to describe it was 'pure'. Like clear, flowing water.

'Face me, and do not shy away. It will hurt, for a moment, for that is my nature, but it will become easier in time if you let it. That is my nature too.'

Feeling compelled, Helga forced her eyes open, her hands falling to her sides. For a second, maybe more, burning whiteness blinded her vision. 'It's like staring into the sun!' she cried to herself, her eyes now streaming with tears. And yet, so quickly the light began to fade. Helga blinked rapidly; as the bright spots cleared from her eyes, she found herself able to perceive a warmly glowing figure before her. At least, perhaps it was a figure. The being seemed to flicker and change, sometimes a formless, hovering glow, and sometimes appearing human, perhaps the size of a young child. Helga felt that, if she looked carefully, she could see an endless stream of faces flitting across the face of the entity, their features instantly familiar but too fleeting to identify. Around the spirit, surely it was a spirit, a long, pink ribbon drifted in a loose, flowing coil. The ribbon waved and rippled as if suspended on a breeze, but Helga could feel no wind.

Her vision finally clear, Helga found herself able to speak.

"Who are you?"

The spirit opened its arms, as if in welcome.

'I am the Ghost of Christmas Past.'

"Christmas… Past?" Helga cold only dumbly reply.

'Yes, Helga. Your past.'

"Huh. You look a little too bright to have much to do with my past…" The bitter remark came almost involuntarily from Helga; by this point such comments were a reflex. Her thoughts, on the other hand, were far less calm. 'Ohmygodisthisreallyhappening?!' Swallowing her fear, her face forced into calm, she did her best to recover.

"Sooo, I suppose you're one of the, um… spirits, that Miriam wanted me to see. Well like I told her, I appreciate you stopping by and all but the only thing I need right now is a decent night's sleep. And since I'm a little old for a nightlight, I'd appreciate it if you just headed out. Moved along? Begone..?"

Her voice again trailed away, as the luminous being stepped slowly towards her, leaving them mere inches apart.

'Yours is a rare chance, Helga. A chance for guidance, and for help. Be grateful.'

Helga folded her arms, glancing away from the spirit.

"I don't need any help."

"For your salvation then." Though the voice of the spirit was unchanged in volume or tone, the word 'salvation' seemed to linger heavily in her head. The word seemed laden with pity. Helga's mind turned back to her mother's sorry state, the pain and weariness that had radiated from her. She thought of the scores of tormented spirits she had seen travelling through the night, each of them in some way bound and mournful. Could that really happen to her? This idea, she realised, frightened her far more deeply than the spirit before her now, and she was led to a simple conclusion. 'What have I got to lose?' Hanging her head, she resigned herself.

"Fine. Let's get this little intervention over with."

She thought she could see the faces of the spirit give small, kind smiles as they passed by, as the Ghost of Christmas Past extended what was surely meant to be an arm, but appeared as nothing more than a soft ray of light.

'Take my hand.' Before Helga could respond to this, sarcastically or otherwise, her mouth fell open as the spirit's pink ribbon fluttered and danced its way down the extended beam, embracing the light as though it were entirely solid, weaving itself into a recognisable shape. Before her eyes, Helga saw formed a small, silken pink hand. The hand extended, reaching for her own, until Helga hesitantly accepted it. She was immediately struck by the intense warmth that radiated from the soft limb. The heat seemed to flicker and fluctuate, leading Helga to wonder whether it was capable of burning her with its touch. This was followed by the realisation that the spirit's grasp on her, though gentle, was as firm and strong as steel. Though the hand was as that of a child, she could instantly tell that her father's own huge fists, with their own sturdy grip, were never so powerful. It would take tremendous effort to pull away now.

'Walk with me.' As the spirit began to pull her, Helga was surprised to find that they were walking not towards the door, but instead to the window.

"Wait, are you expecting me to jump down or something? I mean if Bob's slept through everything so far tonight then we could probably just use the door. Plus, I'm in my pyjamas! No-one said anything about taking a stroll…"

Despite her protests, the spirit was undeterred. Turning to her it spoke, its flickering smile still present.

'You travel with me, through gateways only I may open and to destinations only you may provide. Bear my touch as we walk, and you shall not fall.'

Focussed as she was on these words, Helga did not immediately notice the new beam of light that shone forth from the spirit, as harsh and bright as when the ghost first appeared. The ray fell upon the wall like a strange projection, obscuring the window and fixtures. As they stepped ever forward, Helga was once again forced to shield her eyes, as the brightness surrounded them, enveloping them both.