A Ghost Goes Home
Like most functionaries of Heaven and Hell, the ghosts of Christmas Past, Present and Future had an office on the astral plane. It was a large white room, with no doors or windows, and only the vaguest hint of walls. In the centre, there was a large desk covered in towering piles of paperwork: pictures of Mr Brittas, newspaper cuttings, reports, and reams of other heavenly bureaucracy. To the side, there was a large sofa piled high with cushions. It faced a roaring log-fire, and an incredibly well-stocked drinks table was on hand. Although the ghosts liked the simple elegance of their white office, they also liked to be comfy; a sometimes necessary respite from their dealings with some of the darkest souls humanity has to offer.
On the other side of the desk stood a bank of hundreds of small TV screens; currently showing what appeared to be a wide selection of disaster movies. Taken as a whole, it looked like a mosaic of fire.
The ghost of Christmas Present was standing at the desk, surveying its contents. She was a large Valkyrie of a woman, somehow more solid than everything around her.
Her colleague, the ghost of Christmas Future, was monitoring the TV screens. She was an ethereal, long-haired woman in flowing robes who glowed with an aura, the colour of which changed according to her mood. It was currently a vibrant orange, mirroring the screens in front of her.
"I'm just not sure where to start with this one," Future was saying to Present; her voice like a faint echo only just in earshot. "There's just so much..."
"That's what Past said before he left," Present replied, her voice as solid and steady as the foundations of a cathedral. "He said he'd never seen anyone who'd caused so much suffering and yet hadn't already been completely claimed by down there." She nodded towards the floor.
"The rumour I heard is that they're the ones who nominated him as our target for this year," Future said, turning away from the screens and drifting towards the desk. "They don't want him. They heard what happened when he was up there, and don't want him turning up to spoil their fun. But, with all this -" she gestured to the paperwork, "they're worried they won't have much choice. They think that getting us to fix him now is their last chance to avoid him for eternity but I've been watching his future all day, and I really can't see where to start…" Her aura dissolved from red to a queasy shade of green. "I don't think we've ever had one like this before."
"You know, I'm rather up for the challenge," Present said. "Last couple of years, there's been very little for me to do once Past's had his go. It'll be nice to flex my wings for once. And I'm sure he's made an excellent start."
"He's certainly been gone a long time."
"Oh, he's probably enjoying himself; you know how much he loves wallowing in a good troubled childhood."
Future wished she had Present's ability to live the moment and see the best in things, but she supposed that was her own personal curse. Past had the certainty of the immutable facts of history and Present never had to contend with anything beyond the now. She knew they had their own difficulties to deal with, but living in the future, with her visions of all the possible worlds to come, Future found she could never ignore all the possible problems, all the things that could go wrong…
She turned back to her screens, each showing a different snapshot of Gordon Brittas's future, and scanned them again, looking for something, anything, positive. In all their Christmases of saving the potential damned from themselves, she had always been able to see the telltale signs of improvement as Past and Present did their work, the indications that the was soul rectifying itself, the good starting to filter into their future. But Past had been gone over three hours and, if anything, the future misery caused by Mr Brittas appeared to be getting worse. This was not good.
There was a crack in the air and the ghost of Christmas Past materialised next to the drinks table. He immediately poured himself a whiskey, downed it in one, poured another and promptly collapsed onto the couch, sinking into the cushions. He'd put his glasses back on and half-tidied his hair since leaving Mr Brittas, but he was still looking decidedly singed, smoke wafting up from the hems of his jacket.
He downed the second glass of whiskey and stared absently in the direction of the fire for moment, then jolted with shock. He stood up again, grabbed a decanter of tonic, and threw its contents over the fire, quelling it instantly. "No more flames," he muttered before returning to the couch.
Present and Future exchanged a worried look and hurried over, seating themselves either side of him.
"So, how did it go?" Future asked, trying to sound neutral but betrayed by the purple and black sparks of anxiety flashing through her aura.
Past groaned before saying quietly, "I just don't think he knows. I showed him twenty Christmases in total, each one full of destruction, anger, chaos he had caused and…" Past shook his head. "And… nothing. No remorse, no guilt. In fact, he seemed rather pleased with himself. Couldn't see the problem. Or, at least, couldn't see that he is the problem. He thinks he made things better, not worse, if you can believe that!" He looked sadly at Present, then at Future "I'm afraid I've left rather a lot for you both to do."
Present gave his hand a comforting pat. "Not to worry, we were bound to get a difficult one eventually. I was just saying to Future: a nice challenge for us this year, rather than leaving all the heavy lifting to you. You did an amazing job with that politician last year - we were rather bored."
"Oh, yes, dullest year ever, last year, thanks to your work," added Future, putting her arm around Past's shoulders and giving him a squeeze.
Past gave them a weak smile. "Well, I hope you do have better luck than me!"
"Speaking of which, I should be on my way," said Present, checking her watch.
Past grimaced. "Oh yes, you don't want to be late!" he said, sarcastically. "I was a couple of minutes late, due to all that paperwork -" He waved his hand vaguely in the direction of the desk. "- and he told me off! He actually told me off!"
"He didn't?"
"He did!"
"Right, well then," Present said, standing and squaring her shoulders in a determined manner. "I can see I'm going to have to be stern with this one." She seemed to have grown in size as she stood there. Future and Past leaned back, rather in awe of her.
"Good luck," Past told her, mentally adding: you're going to need it.
"I'm sure he'll quail before you," Future added.
"Let's hope so. I'll see you shortly." And with a snap of her fingers, Present was gone.
Past went to take another drag of whiskey, only to find his glass empty. Taking the bottle from the table, Future refilled it and he drank it gratefully. He closed his eyes in a state of relieved bliss at being home and sank back into the couch, simply glad that Gordon Brittas was no longer his concern.
Whilst he relaxed, Future's attention drifted back to her screens. Pouring a large glass of the whiskey for herself, she settled down to monitor the impact of Present's intervention. After a few moments, her aura returned to bright orange.