Owen's Ghost
New York City at Christmas had always been a cheerful time of the year. The lighting of the Rockefeller Christmas tree. The neighborhood vendor who sold warm roasted chestnuts. The city all covered in white. Everyone was shopping and eating out at restaurants featuring their special holiday menus. However, on Christmas Eve, Logan Walker, the President of National Trust Bank, sat in his office, on his phone.
"I am pretty excited about the merger, too," he said. "I know it will require some sacrifices, but once everything blows over, I know we will be a stronger institution."
"Hasn't it been a year now, Logan?" Paul said.
"It has. Last Christmas Eve. Car accident."
Logan heard a knock at the door as it opened, seeing William Davis, one of the top executives, standing in the doorway beside another man.
"Can't you see I am busy?!"
"I'm sorry, sir, but I thought if you were free, this man is here to see you."
"Alright, if you must come in, get it over with."
William shrank back quietly, closing the door again.
"I'm sorry to disturb you, but I wanted to reach out to you to ask if National Trust would be willing to give a charitable donation to the Salvation Army this year."
"Salvation Army? I'm sorry, but we are in the business of generating profits for our stockholders. I've already approved enough loans for this year. I am not going to approve giving out more money to people beneath me. You know where the door is. Please leave."
The man stood still for a moment, where his forehead creased, looking repugnant.
"Fine, this is the last time you'll ever see me here!"
He quickly turned and walked out, slamming the door behind him.
By the time it reached 5 o'clock, Logan was done for the day, walking out of his office, seeing Davis shutting everything off for the day.
"Some of the co-workers are having a little impromptu Christmas party," he said. "You are welcome to join us."
"I think I will pass," he said, indigantly walking straight past him.
"Either way, have a Merry Christmas, Mr. Walker."
He took the elevator down to the parking garage, feeling the cold, wintry air hit his lungs. As he continued walking to his car with his feet echoing on the pavement, it sounded like a second set of footfalls was behind him. He looked down, seeing in a puddle of water on the black pavement a dark figure of a man, where he could almost make out his face, which looked somewhat distorted from the fluorescent lights overhead. He quickly turned his head, seeing nobody was standing in the parking garage but himself.
He arrived home and walked into the upstairs main lobby, where he was greeted by the front desk clerk, Emmett.
"Merry Christmas Eve, Mr. Walker."
"Yeah, whatever."
He took the elevator to the top floor of his spacious penthouse apartment on Central Park West, where, outside his floor-to-ceiling windows, which overlooked the forest of trees that was Central Park, it now looked like a picture-postcard wintry landscape. As soon as he struck up the fireplace, it brought a glow and a warmth to the otherwise dark and drafty apartment. He sat at his desk composing a global Email that by the 1st of the year, half of the people in the main office, due to the new merger with another banking firm, would be laid off, wishing everyone a smary Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. Logan clicked "send" without any shred of decency left in his body.
The phone rang at his desk, which he picked up, hearing Emmett at the front desk.
"I'm sorry to disturb you, sir, but your sister is here."
"Fine, let her up," he replied, grudgingly.
Soon, he heard a knock at the door and opened it to his sister, Kimberly, standing in the doorway.
"Would you believe the amount of snow out there?" she said, walking in and unbuttoning her coat.
"It's New York, what do you expect? I know you wouldn't have made the trek all the way here without a good reason, so shoot."
"I was hoping you'd come on Christmas Day to my house. I am bringing Mom over. Your nephew would be happy to see you."
"You know I don't normally take any days off."
"What happened to you?" she said curiously, furrowing her brow. "You used to love the holidays."
"I grew up, that's what happened."
"I know things have been hard since Dad passed, but that's all the more reason for us to stick together as a family."
Logan could see the pained look on her face.
"All of us only have so many years left in this world, Logan," she said, "Can you at least try?"
"I won't make any promises," he said, looking resigned.
"Merry Christmas, brother," Kimberly said, walking out of his apartment, closing the door behind her.
He poured himself a glass of bourbon, sitting in his chair by the fireplace, where suddenly the room turned cold, leaving ice crystals forming all over the windows until you could hardly see outside. The lights all through the apartment blinked off. From the front door, he could hear a loud knock as he got up, seeing a man dressed in a tattered suit pass through the door. His face was ashen, with his eyes looking like they were hollowed out. His hair looked matted and gray.
"Hi, Logan," he said, his voice echoing.
"Owen?"
"Yep, it's me, or at least what's left of me."
"But you're...?"
"Dead?"
"I must be going nuts," Logan said, shaking his head and walking away.
"No, you're not because I am really here."
"So then I mean not that it's not nice to see you, but what are you doing here?"
"I have been lucky enough to show up so I can warn you," he said. "You need to start cleaning up your act."
"What act? I am at the top of the world."
"Yeah, and then you backstabbed me and pushed me out."
"And then you took your car and went on a bender and rammed yourself into a tree."
"It's only now that I see the damage I caused others, where I could and should have done better, but if you don't stop now, you are going to end up exactly like me."
"Think I am familiar with this story already," Logan said, rolling his eyes, taking another swig of his drink. "Let me guess, A Christmas Carol? You come here to tell me three ghostly apparitions are going to come here and show me....." he said, using air quotes, "the error of my ways. You can just save it."
"Well, tough because this is the real version. They are coming at 1, 2, and 3 o'clock. Believe me, there are places in purgatory for men like us. You'd do well to listen. So long, partner."
A cold wind blew through the apartment, covering his face with his hand, extinguishing the fireplace. The lights came back on, and Logan looked out to see that the windows were clear again.
