A Christmas Carol (My adaptation)

He was a tall man, powerfully built and yet not overweight although this was hard to tell under the thick winter coat he had pulled tightly around him. He leaned slightly into the cold wind as he made his way along the long rows of forlorn looking terraced back to back housing. His head was down but anyone looking would have been taken aback by the sour expression his face wore. It was an almost permanent fixture nowadays. His foot caught an old tin can and he sent it spinning into the slow moving traffic, barely registering it as it hit a car door.
His only reaction to the angry yell of the car driver was to remove one hand from deep in his pocket long enough to stick his middle finger up at the driver, not even turning to look at the offended motorist.
Arriving at his front door he rammed the key in and wrenched it round with unnecessary force and banged the door open.
The room he looked in on was small but neat and clean. His eyes roamed the room as if looking to find something out of place. Finally, satisfied he entered, boots off, he carefully lined them up against the wall along with three similar pairs.

'Grace, where are you, woman?' he roared.
A small, slim woman rushed in from the kitchen. Middle aged, she had lost a little of what must have been stunning good looks in her youth. Care lines tainted her visage a little and the petrified look on her face put several years on her. Eyes wide and face pale, she rushed over to the table and laid the plate she was carrying on the one place set at the table.
The man came over and looked down at the offering.
'What's this, salad, how the hell can a man be expected to survive on rabbit food? A working man needs a hot meal inside him when he comes home.
'I'm sorry Reg; I didn't have time to cook. Paula came round and…'
'Do I care that you have been wasting your day winging with that woman, is that any excuse for not doing your womanly duty to her husband. I don't expect much, just a clean house and HOT food on the table when I come home.'
Grace was backing away as he continued his tirade, her face becoming paler, if possible.
His eye caught a newspaper lying on the sofa, 'so you had time to read the paper did you, reading that rubbish instead of being in the kitchen. Is that what you do all day, laze around while I put food on the table. Proper food I should add, not this slop,' he shouted as with a flick of his wrist he sent the plate flying across the room.
'That needs clearing up too. I am going for a shower. I want hot food on the table in a spotless room when I come down. Do you understand me?'
'She nodded unable to answer. She had been through this so many times over one thing and another. That didn't stop her fear growing as each tirade was worse than the last recently.
Hurrying to the kitchen she set about making something quick and hot. There were tears streaking her face as she worked which she brushed aside with the back of her hand as she hurried about the task of cooking his meal. Once it was cooking she rushed into the lounge to clear away the smashed salad, careful to remove every spot as he was sure to check she had done it properly.
He stomped down the stairs just as she put his new plate on the table. A glance at the place where the salad had hit the wall found nothing amiss and with a grunt he sat and started to stuff food into his mouth while Grace stood by, ready to clear away his plate as soon as he had finished. He would be expecting pudding straight away.
Pudding served, followed by a large glass of beer before grace hurried to the kitchen to clear up before he came for his second beer and to inspect all was clean and as he thought it should be.
'Got there in the end then, didn't we, I can't see why it is so difficult for you to get it right. It's not exactly rocket science is it? Maybe tomorrow you will do a better job. Its Christmas Eve so you had better hadn't you.
Again grace nodded. Chewing her lip, she hesitantly asked a question, 'can't we just have a small tree, Reg? Wouldn't it be nice just to brighten the place up a little?'
'A tree, what d'you want a tree for, nasty things dropping bits all over the carpet. I should think so unless you want to stand beside it all day and catch the needles, bloody Christmas tree, whatever next? Oh yes and while I remember I will be working overtime Christmas day so don't bother cooking, I will get something at the canteen, probably be more edible than what you have been dishing me up lately. I will want a beer when I get in though so you will have to wait up to get it for me, understand?'
She nodded and turned away without another word.
Reg turned on the TV and sat down nursing his beer, without a backward glance at his wife.
Grace sat at the table and waited for him to empty his glass. When he did, he raised it above his head without a word and waited for her to take it and took the refill without a word.
The evening was following the same ritual and Grace said goodnight and headed up the narrow stairway to bed.
Reg didn't acknowledge her goodnight wish; he never did so she wasn't surprised.

Once in bed she lay there unable to sleep. Her mind drifted back to earlier times in their marriage when life had been so much happier for her. Reg had been demanding, even then but there had been a loving side to his nature that more than balanced things for her.
Oh he had yelled but he had always apologized after and the making up had been something to make up for having to put up with his temper. Nowadays though there was no making up, there was no loving contact between them at all. Grace wasn't too upset by that. Reg had become rougher as their marriage got older, taking all the pleasure for himself, not caring how she felt, something else that had changed from their early life together. Thinking back Christmas time had always been worse for some reason that he had never told her. She had tried a couple of times when he had refused to have decorations i9n the house but he had got angry and eventually she had dropped it.
Paula had asked her today why she put up with it, why she didn't "just leave the bastard to stew in his own juices."
She had mumbled some reason but she knew the real reason wasn't something that Paula would ever understand, she loved him still, even though her life was a misery and she was treated little better than a slave. She still had a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe one day he would change. And of course she had no where to go.
Paula had suggested staying at her place but she knew Reg would find her and make her come back. There was no hiding and no escape even if she had wanted to.

Downstairs, Reg's eyes were drooping, his empty glass hanging loosely in his hand across the arm of his chair, the last dregs slowly dripping onto the worn carpet.
His eyes closed and he began to snore loudly as his head dropped to his chest.
'Wake up Reginald,' said a commanding voice
Reg sat up with a start and looked around wildly for what had woken him. It took a moment for him to realize that it was himself he was looking at in the chair. He was standing in front of the TV watching himself snore and dribble in his chair. Looking up he saw another. Fear grabbed at his heart as he saw his Uncle George standing in the corner of the room.
'What's going on, what's happening? I must be dreaming.'
'Oh yes you are dreaming Reginald, but it is no ordinary dream. I think it is time you learned some home truth's and Tonight is the night that you will learn them. Mark my words by, learn the lessons well or your future will be one of pain and death.
'What?' cried Reg. His anger was overcoming his fear now. 'Who the bloody hell do you think you are, coming into my house uninvited and tell me how to live my life? Get out and let me sleep in peace.'
'I am leaving but I will be back before dawn to see if you have learned anything. Three visitors you will have tonight, listen to what they tell you and change your ways, nephew before it's too late.
Reg sat up and rubbed his eyes. The beer glass had fallen to the carpet and a small stain had spread. "Grace will have to scrub that in the morning," he thought.
It was a last thought before his eyes closed again, the sound of the TV fading as sleep took him again.

'Wake up Reg'y,' said a familiar soft voice as a small hand reached out and switched off the TV set. Reg looked up to see a small blonde girl of about seven or eight standing looking at him with bright, wide eyes. Reg shrank back, 'Sarah, this is not possible.'
'Possible or not, I have come to show you something, brother. Come, we haven't much time. She held out her hand and Reg couldn't help himself reaching out to take it.
As soon as he did, his living room disappeared and was replaced by a thick white fog.
Fear began to creep into his soul and he gripped his sister's hand tighter. It didn't last long however and suddenly a familiar scene coalesced in through the clearing mist. It was his home, his home where he had spent his childhood. A small, cosy lounge looked even smaller with a tree in the corner and the family sitting around an open fire. His mother was sitting, smiling at his sister as she played with her new rag doll. Reg himself was pushing a small truck around the floor, steering it around the pattern on the carpet. Reaching out to make the truck skid around a corner, the young Reg fell sideways, falling into his father's leg. The unexpected jolt spilt his fathers drink down his jumper. His father jumped up with a snarl and aimed a kick at Reg. 'You stupid little bastard, look what you've done.
Reg cowered back shielding his head with his arms from the blows he knew would be coming at any moment. He didn't have to wait long, a full arm slap sent his arm away from his head before another connected with his temple sending flying. His mother just sat and watched, her face showed no shock, this was by no means the first time it had happened. His sister didn't stand back; she grabbed her fathers arm, begging him to stop. He flung his arm back, trying to shake her off.

'No, don't show me this again, I can't bear to watch.'
'You must, Reg or tonight will be in vain.'
He made himself look on the scene unfolding below him. He knew what was about to happen and that somehow made it even worse than it had been the first time.
He was a powerful man and she flew across the room, the back of her head connecting with the corner of the hearth and she was still. Time seemed to stand still, his father stopped with his hand in the air looking in horror at the red stain growing from under his daughters head.

'Don't make me watch, I can't stand to see this again.'
'We have seen enough I think and my time is up, I must take you back so your next guide can show you something.'
'Don't leave, stay with me….' But she was fading and soon was engulfed by the white mist, a hand reaching out as she faded from view.
Reg woke with a start and wasn't surprised to feel tears on his face. He hadn't been able to force himself to think in detail about that Christmas night in detail although the vague memory had been with him ever since that fateful night.
His father had been taken from them that night and Reg had never seen him again, a double edged sword for him.

He didn't have long to dwell on it, his Uncles voice made him jump.
'You must sleep; your next guide is on his way.'
He had no choice, his eyes closed of their own accord and it was mere seconds before he heard a voice that sent a shiver down his spine. He turned round to see his father standing behind him. The fear was still there after all these years, nothing was forgotten, on either side by the look on his fathers face.
'Come I have to show you something.'
The mist returned and then thinned. It didn't seem that anything had changed, his lounge looked exactly the same as it always was. Grace was sitting at the table, a sandwich on a plate, untouched in front of her. She was crying, tears running almost unnoticed as she stared into space. Reg almost put a hand out to comfort her but withdrew it.
'Can't you even spare a little comfort for the lady you loved, don't you care how you treat her. Is that my legacy to you?' his voice was harsh, bitter but tinged with a touch of regret.
'You're a fine one to talk,' retorted Reg, anger welling up drowning out his fear of the tyrant he had known as a father.
'Oh indeed, I did much that I regret and one of those regrets is that you grew up so like me. I was harsh but I was never cruel like you are to your wife. This is Christmas day, bad memories haunt you I know. But causing the woman you are supposed to love such pain to assuage your own is not right and that is coming from me so you had better believe it.'
'It was with a heavy heart that he asked, 'what else do you have to show me?'
'Isn't that enough? There is nothing else. This is Christmas, a stark and sad day for your wife, undeserved for all she does and puts up with from you is it not?'
Reg didn't answer; he couldn't take his eyes off the sad scene before him. Somehow it was worse than that his sister had shown him. This was unknown to him, unnoticed and if he thought about it, he should have noticed, it wasn't just Christmas day either.
'I have seen enough, father, take me back.'
'Remember then son, remember well.'
The mist came down and swallowed his father and once again he found himself awake. He was sweating and he couldn't think straight, he wondered if it was all a dream but it seemed so real.

The mist seeped into the room, slowly engulfing Reg until he could se nothing. There was no guide to show him the path this time. He was lost and alone, wandering aimlessly through a never ending nothingness.
A voice came out of the blinding mist. He couldn't tell where the voice came from; indeed it didn't seem to come from any one direction.
'What will you show me, more misery and contempt for my failings?' Reg was starting to feel sorry for himself and not a little afraid of what the ghosts had shown him to have become. The night had shown him that there was very little to like about himself, he wondered if that was the reason for his nightmare.
A figure floated out of the mist, a dark cowl shrouded all humanity that may have existed beneath. The apparition didn't speak, merely lifted its arm and indicated a point off to Reg's left. He could see nothing but with rising dread he slowly walked in that direction. There was nothing to see however much he strained, peering into the impenetrable gloom. It was getting colder too; he hugged his arms to his chest, to keep himself warm he told himself. It had nothing to do with the rising fear that threatened to overwhelm him.
Peering ahead he didn't notice the stone until he tripped over it. Picking himself up from the floor he grabbed the top of the cold squared stone and made himself look at it although he dreaded to see what his eyes would find.
It was as he feared a gravestone. The words seemed to enflame as he looked at them, bright lights holding the mist at bay for him to see his future.

Grace Butcher
1968-2007
May she have at
last have found
a better place.

Reg couldn't breathe, his chest felt constricted as though someone was trying to rip out his heart.
He looked around at the shrouded figure that had followed him to the grave. It pointed again.
'No more, I can't take any more of this. Tears ran freely down his cheeks and for the first time in many years fear for another was leaching the anger from him. He found no solace in his silent companion who just continued to point.
He had no choice; he had to follow, even though his feet would hardly move.
It wasn't far, only a few steps before the fiery letters of another grave shone coldly out of the mist.

Reg Butcher
1966 - 2047
Learn from
Your
Mistakes.

'That is my epitaph?'
The hooded shape nodded slightly. Reg couldn't take any more, his knees gave way and he collapsed against the hard, cold stone.
A newspaper fluttered on a non existent breeze and landed on the back of his head. He pulled it down and read the headline.

"Christmas tragedy of domestic violence death"
Glancing below, he read the start of the article. The piece started with Grace's name and he could read no more. He knew what he was going to see. He looked at the date, two days time. Horror threatened to unman him; he was going to kill his wife tomorrow.
What had he done, how had it come to this he realised with total clarity now that he had let the death of his dear little sister colour his own life, bitterness and pain that he took out on others rather than looking into himself for answers.
'Is it too late, can I put things right?' he said looking up through tear blurred eyes at his dark hooded companion. There was no answer forthcoming. The figure started to dissolve, becoming part of the mist that was diminishing at the same time. It was only seconds before he was sitting on the floor in his lounge. Moonlight was trying it's best to sneak in through the heavy curtains.

He sat there a moment, the fiery letters on the gravestones etched into his brain as if they had been branded there. Grace was going to die within days, he was going to kill her. That was impossible, he loved her and although he ranted at her he would never lay a hand on her. Bloody ridiculous, must have had stronger beer last night than normal.
"Learn from your mistakes"

His Uncles voice made him jump out of his skin.
'Do you not think that your anger has been driving you towards this point? Has last night shown you nothing? You know from your past what you have been like, how you have treated people. Now you know the reason, now you know why you are so fill of anger and bitterness. It is time to put it to rest, time to change while there is still time. Today is the critical point in your life. Learn the lesson or spend the rest of your long life regretting not listening.'
Reg couldn't answer; tears were falling freely down his cheeks.
'There is still time? I can rescue my life?'
'Yes, but you must act now, this moment. Remember Grace sitting at the table; make that the first thing to put right. I think you will find it easier from there. If that is the path you choose. Now is the time, decide and follow your heart. We have shown you the path but it is your choice to follow it or follow the dark path to despair.'
With that the ghost of his Uncle faded and Reg was alone in the dark. He sat for a moment, his mind a whirl. He stood, flicked on the light and checked his watch. Just gone five o'clock, he still had time. He grabbed his coat and wallet and ran out of the house and down the road.

There was a superstore around the corner; they would have what he needed. He pulled out a trolley and started to dash around the store, putting as much Christmas fare in as he could find, a tree was followed by lights and baubles. Tinsel and more lights followed.
On to the food department, a turkey, vegetables and a Christmas pudding, chocolates and anything else he thought Grace would like.
He was nearly to the checkout when he thought of a gift for his wife. Perfume, he thought, a luxury she hadn't had for so long. He found the most expensive one he could see and that went in the trolley along with wrapping paper.
He checked his watch, nearly six. Time was running out. Grace would be awake in a little over an hour. Quickly he paid for everything and rushed out of the store. He would borrow the trolley, bring it back later and he ran along the deserted street, his heart pounded, as much with excitement at the look on Grace's face as much as the fear that he would run out of time.

Once indoors he set about transforming the stark lounge. Maybe the tree wasn't as perfectly decorated as it would have been had he more time, maybe the trimming could have been a little more artistic but with the lights on, casting their soft glow the room had a slightly magical look to it, something that had been missing for far too long.
Reg realised that he was happier too than he could remember. Doing something for others, the thought was somehow alien to him but now he realised what he had been missing out on and what others had missed out on because of him. He had so much to make up for he realised but now he was determined to do it. The brush he had with his fate had certainly wrought its changes on him and now he was more than glad that he had listened.
Ten to seven, just time to wrap the perfume and get the food into the kitchen. He had just put the last piece of tape on when he heard a creak from above. Grace was getting up.
He was surprised to feel as nervous as he was; in fact he was terrified but excited at the same time. Never had he known the joy of giving gifts.

The butterflies in his stomach were doing cartwheels as he listened to Grace's footsteps coming slowly down the stairs. She must have seen the lights, she was wary now, stepping even slower.
Reg could hardly contain himself, willing her to come down but scared at the same time.
She came in to the room, a look of wonder on her face, a hint of fear was evident in her eyes however and Reg saw it, something inside him gave way, he was appalled that his wife should be so frightened of him. 'What have I done," he thought to himself as he rushed forward to take her in his arms. He stopped short as she raised her arm, did she think he was going to strike her?

He stopped in his tracks, a look of horror on his face, 'Grace, I am so sorry for the person I was. I am going to change, I am going to be the best husband ever and dedicate the rest of my life to making up for what I have done to you. If you will let me,' he said as he held out the perfume.
She hesitated for a long second before taking it.
She didn't speak and made no move to open her present. She was totally bewildered and a part of her was suspicious that it was all a trick and something horrible would happen at any moment.
Reg saw her indecision and it broke his heart, tears came again and this time they were for the love of the woman he had treated so badly but who had stayed by his side. Oh yes, he had a lot to make up for.
'Sit down Grace and I will get you breakfast,' he said as he pulled out a chair for her to sit.

He walked to the door to the kitchen and looked back at the look of hope on his wife's face and his heart melted.
'I love you,' he said for the first time in many years, 'and I am going to spend the rest of my life proving it to you.'
And that is my tale. Christmas should be a time of hope and joy, a time of new beginnings and family.
May this Christmas bring joy to your hearts and I hope you all have a good and peaceful day.

Merry Christmas from the Doc.