Ebenezer Scrooge signed the certificate of death for Jacob Marley with a steady hand, one well used to placing name to paper. He had signed the ledger for countless loans, exchanges, purchases, sales, and evictions over the years. Truth be told he could, in fact, have counted them. The information was well preserved in dozens of ledgers within a storeroom of his large house, ledgers exactly like the one weighing down the chain on Jacob’s right shoulder.

Ebenezer had been Jacob’s only friend in life. Theirs was a kinship born of work association, a like-mindedness in the pursuit of wealth, and sustained by their mutual respect for one another’s business acumen. In reality, they had very little in common outside of their business pursuits. Ebenezer was cheap, paying for the bare minimum of most things in life except maybe for his bedding and a sturdy coat.

Jacob, on the other hand, enjoyed neatness and order and was not afraid to use his accumulated wealth to maintain that order. He felt it wholesome for the soul, creating a balance and freedom that helped maintain order in other aspects of his life, such as his business pursuits. He was also accustomed to the comforts of a horse and buggy, which required a paid driver and a stable. These things Ebenezer thought of as ‘frivolities’, yet he had never protested when Jacob picked him up in his buggy to visit potential clients.

Because of Jacob’s image of wealth and stability, because of these frivolities, Jacob had become the face of their business. He would consult with Ebenezer over the purchases and sales associated with their work, and then present the smiling face and charm which Ebenezer lacked in order to close the deal. Their partnership was extremely successful.

Jacob had tried in vain to speak to Ebenezer, to capture his attention. He howled his name, cursed the man for his blindness, and wept as Ebenezer walked away from him towards the buggy he had rented to take him to the funeral. Even he would not walk the distance to the gardens.

Jacob tried to follow him, moaning at his torment, but one of his chains had somehow wrapped itself around his coffin. He could not pull it free no matter how hard he tried. He was forced to sit there and watch as not a single soul besides Ebenezer came to see his body. He still had not admitted that he was dead, that he was forever bound to this existence, yet he recognized the absence of people and what it meant. He had taken their money, not their hearts. He had taken their homes, not their admiration. He had given nothing to anyone freely, and nothing was given in return.

Eventually, his coffin was nailed shut and placed in the back of a carriage for transportation. The hired mourners, two of them, followed the buggy wailing into the sky as if they had known Jacob all of their lives, and as if his departure wracked their souls with anguish. They had been well paid. Ebenezer’s hired buggy followed the mourners, and the slow procession made its way to the garden plot outside of town, Jacob’s soul in tow.

Even though he was pulled along by the chain wrapped around his coffin, the other chains and objects still seemed to drag on him. It was like he was pulling the chains in reverse; no rest being given for the coffin’s movement. Jacob had tried to sleep on several occasions, to find respite from the bone-crunching weariness that seeped through his soul, but sleep would never come. The more he tried, the more tired he felt, and his eyes refused to stay closed no matter how hard he tried to keep them shut.

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They arrived at the garden plot, and Ebenezer refused to pay the full fare requested by the driver. He claimed the driver had driven recklessly, even though the man could only drive as fast as the walking pace of the mourners in front of him. Ebenezer threw half the requested fare at the man and walked away, gambling that the man would take the money and leave instead of fetching the guard. If he fetched the guard, Ebenezer would simply pay the full fare and that would be the end of it. In either case, he would avoid tipping the man.

The man spat on the ground, pocketed the coin, and left with the intent of warning other cab drivers headed in that direction to refuse the man service. As Ebenezer walked towards the garden plot, Jacob briefly saw the massive length of chain trailing behind his only friend in life, growing by one link before his eyes. The chain was every bit as long as Jacob’s, with similar objects dotting its length. Jacob wailed in sorrow for his friend. He wailed for himself as well, but there was no one to hear him.

The funeral service was simple. The clergyman had only Ebenezer to address as the mourners had left as soon as the body arrived at the plot. Jacob was lost within his own torment, staring blankly as he felt exhaustion throughout his soul. Then he was briefly made aware of a figure standing near his coffin, a figure dressed all in black with a cowl pulled low over their face to hide their features. Man or woman Jacob could not tell, but the figure was staring at him. Jacob could see no face, but he felt the figures eyes locked onto him.

A feeling overcame Jacob, shattering all attempts to call to the figure for help, rending him completely mute from terror. Whatever this figure was, Jacob knew to his core that it was not here to help him, and such laments would go unanswered. Jacob could only stare in numb horror, returning the eyeless gaze of the figure. Eventually, the figure seemed satisfied that its lack of interest in Jacob’s torment was fully cemented, and it turned its gaze to the clergy, which was oblivious to the presence of the figure. The figure seemed to be listening to the clergy intently, almost reverently, full of patience for this moment of final farewell.

Upon the conclusion of the Clergies speech, the figured bobbed its head as if in amen of the words spoken. As Jacob’s body was lowered into the ground by the undertaker and his assistants, hands appeared from the sides of the dark robed figure. The hands were transparent like Jacob’s, but glowing white, whereas Jacob’s were pale and barely visible. A massive scythe appeared in the hooded figure's hands. The handle was made of finely crafted wood and decorated with flowing veins of interlacing silver and gold. The blade appeared to be made of a brilliant light that shone brightly all around, lighting the darkness of death. The barest whispering of peace from that light brushed Jacob’s mind, an ebb to his torment, but the moment was gone as quickly as it had come, and its bitter taste a purposeful addition to the torment that was his new existence.

In a flash the scythe swept through the air, severing the chain wrapped around his descending coffin. The chain fell apart, unwrapping from the coffin, then immediately reconnected to add its weight to Jacob’s tormented chain.

Severing the chain seemed to have shattered Jacob’s denial, and he was fully aware of his situation. He knew he had stepped upon the hopes of others to gain dominion over them. He knew he had stretched and pushed his power and influence in order to take from others, so he could gain more and more of the coins filling the cash boxes dragging at his feet. He knew he had hoarded his money, spending it only on himself, his possessions, and his comforts.

He knew he was dead, he knew he was damned, and he knew it was exactly what he deserved.