Jacob T. Marley by R. William Bennett

Author:R. William Bennett [Bennett, R. William]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Christmas
Publisher: Shadow Mountain Publishing
Published: 2011-08-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 6

The first thing Marley was aware of was the nearly instantaneous loss of the peace he had enjoyed when in the presence of the kindly spirit. Though he had felt his own remorse while with the spirit, he had been buoyed up somehow. Now, as that support withdrew, he wondered how he had ever withstood the pain of his actions.

This, however, was not his final state. He felt a great, crushing weight upon him. It was unlike anything he had experienced, pressing in upon his entire self from every direction. His arms were heavy, his legs were heavy, and his heart was heavy. As he tried to move, he felt as if he were pulling his limbs through a thick coagulation more of mud than of air. He looked down to see what restrained him, and as he gazed at his arms, he began to see chains. They were not burnished bright, like new metal, or covered with rust, like old. They were formed as chains, but they were of some other matter, almost seeming to be extensions of his body. He was bound in them; they wrapped themselves about his arms, then his torso, then over his shoulders. As he tried to move, they became heavier. They held in their links the emblems of his life: not gifts, not people, not pleasant memories, but contracts and cash boxes and locks and keys. These were the only things that had mattered to him. In life, his greatest pleasure had been to feel the heft of the metal box filled with rewards of his work. That heft now burdened him. Each ounce of gain that had at one time brought him pleasure was now a pound of pain. He looked at the box closest to him. He knew that latch, those hinges, and the feel of the key in the lock. Yet it was as ghostly as himself. He did not know man, but he knew his cash box. In it alone he had invested his life. And now, it alone would be his eternal companion.

He felt he could barely move, but move he must. He seemed to have no choice in the matter. He was not being forced by any outward power. The momentum of his living demanded his forward trudge in his death. He had no choice because he had chosen to leave himself no choice.

He heaved the weight up and took a step. The chains clanked and pulled. They chafed his apparitions of limbs as though his skin still encased him. It was beyond his strength to pull and beyond his will not to. A second step with equal drive. Step by step, Jacob walked into the present and future of those who suffered because of his past.

Each stride moved him forward, from inches at times to great distances at others, passing over the entire continent in one step. Yet there was no pleasure in his journey—no wind whipping about his head or thrill of rising above human limitations.

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