The Black Robin Christmas Carol: Stave 1: The Beginning

Stave 1
The Beginning

 
There is a story that is told every year at a certain time of year since the time of the Victorian Era. It has been interpreted and reinterpreted again and again but has consisted, mostly, of the same characters doing very similar things to the same end. This story, based on the name, would appear to also follow that which has come before, but that is not the case. The characters are different, the actions they participate in are different, and the moral is different. Only the basic structure of the story is the same, and even that is altered slightly.

This story begins in an office in an office park in a suburb of a big city, which one is irrelevant. The office in question is decorated in a way that fits in with the season. Nothing too outlandish or spiritual, but festive none the less. The employees that fill this office also participate in this festive decoration. All of the cubicles are filled with trinkets and doodads and flair that project the employee’s personality and feeling about this season. All of the cubicles except one.

To say that this cubicle stands alone from the rest would be correct but to say that this is atypical would not be correct. No matter the season, spring, summer, fall, or winter, this cubicle is decorated in a similar manner, minimally. The only expression of personality on display in this cubicle is a single figurine from a television series long since taken off air and even longer since faded from most people’s memory. This is the cubicle of Robin Anderson and she is the focus of this story.

Robin is a moderately attractive woman with long black hair and fingernails to match. She usually dresses in baggy well worn Levi’s and a t-shirt acquired at a rock concert or rock band’s website. This ensemble is accentuated with arm bands and black leather boots, both with shiny faux metal spikes on them.

Our story begins on the morning of Christmas Eve, a day when all of the employees of this office were eagerly anticipating the moment they could leave. Well, more so than normal. About halfway through the morning, David O’Malley, the boss of the company that fills the office, got on the intercom to make an announcement. “Good morning ladies and gentlemen. First let me wish you the best in this holiday season as well as in the New Year.” David was attempting to wish his employees a Merry Christmas without incurring a lawsuit. “I’m sure you’re all anxious to get home to your families and start your holiday. So am I. That’s why right now I’m offering all of the employees a half-day work day today. You can elect to go home after your lunch break today and still get paid for the entire day. Have a great holiday everybody.”

This announcement caused a feeling of joy and relief to come over the office. Every employee perked up and started arranging things for their exit, every employee except for Robin. Robin continued to work on as before as if nothing had changed. One might assume she simply hadn’t heard the announcement, but that wasn’t the case. Robin had heard the announcement loud and clear, she just wasn’t looking forward to going home.

Noontime came and all of the employees started to filter out, except, of course, for Robin. Robin was taking a break from her busy workday over some microwaved leftovers when one of her fellow employees approached her, something that was rarely done. “Excuse me, Robin?” It was Erin, a woman about Robin’s age who has been meaning to talk to Robin for some time.

“Yes,” Robin said to Erin, recognizing her but not actually knowing her name.

“I’m having a little Christmas party tonight. A couple of friends and I are getting together to exchange gifts and generally have some fun. I was wondering if you might be available to come.” What Erin said was genuine, what Robin was about to say wasn’t.

“I’m sorry but I can’t. My parents have a Christmas Eve thing every year with my brothers, their wives, their kids and I. We get together and play board games and just enjoy being a family. My parents would be really disappointed if I missed it.”

“Oh, well then I can understand you wanting to be with your family then. You have a Merry Christmas Robin.”

“You too.” What Robin said then was genuine but would have come across more sincerely if she had remembered who she was saying it too.

Finally the time came when the office started to clear out. Most of the employees were bundling themselves up and saying goodbye to each other, all except for Robin. As he was about to leave, Mr. O’Malley took notice of Robin and went to talk to her.

“Excuse me, Robin.”

“Yes, Mr. O’Malley.”

“Please, call me David.” Among all the employees, Robin was the only one who referred to Mr. O’Malley formally. No matter how many times David told her she could call him David, Robin had always called him Mr. O’Malley. “Did you hear the announcement I made earlier?”

“Yes I did Mr. O’Malley.”

“Are you planning to leave?”

“No. I have this mountain of work to do and I’m sure our clients are really anxious to see it done.”

“Robin, you can leave that work to be done the day after Christmas. I’m sure our clients won’t mind.”

“But I would mind. Leaving this work here would just bug me all day tomorrow.” This wasn’t true but Robin conveyed it so convincingly that David believed her.

“Okay then. I’m actually about to leave, so can I trust you to lock up when you leave?”

“Sure.” So David showed Robin how to turn off the lights, lock the doors, and turn on the security system. Robin would have turned off the lights right then but David advised her not to. This was because if somebody saw a single woman walking around in a dark empty office building Robin might be getting a visit from the cops.

So David left Robin to work alone. Every step she took, every key she clicked, every fan from every electronic device seemed to echo throughout the entire office. A situation like this might put some people on edge, but not Robin, not a tiny bit.

Time went forward and eventually the hour struck when the work day normally ends. Robin rose from her cubicle broken and exhausted but gratified in the fact that she had completed her work for that day, an accomplishment no one else in the office could claim. Robin gathered her things, bundled herself up, secured the office, and walked to her car alone. Robin doing all of this alone is what usually happens, but on this day it was especially sad.

Usually at this time of the day the roads are packed with people rushing home to their family, their friends, and their favorite television programs. This was not the case on this night. As Robin made her way from her place of work to her place of home the roads were as desolate as they get. They only other cars on the road with Robin were police officers on patrol for drunk drivers. As a result, Robin had to stick right to the speed limit the entire drive home, which made her journey that much longer and made Robin listen to more of the sad depressing music she always seems to listen to.

Robin eventually made her way to her home and by the time she had done so evening had settled in. When she entered her front door, Robin found her home to be cold and dark. This was not unusual as she usually keeps her house in this state to save on energy bills, but to go from a cold and dark outside to a cold and dark inside is usually not very comforting.

Robin wasn’t met with any salutations upon entering her home. No husband or boyfriend with a kiss waiting for her, no kids eager to tell their mother all about their day, and no dog ready to smear Robin’s makeup with dog saliva. This wasn’t because of late night shopping or going to sleep early. Robin’s home was just as empty as the office she just left. The only things that lived with Robin was the sound of her thick leather boots as she passed from room to room and a small figurine collection she kept in her den. Going from depressing situation to depressing situation would affect most people, including Robin. Robin just had a fairly effective coping strategy.

Mr. Michael Benjamin spent many years honing and crafting a liquid that, upon completion, made him and his family fantastically wealthy. Among the people that contributed to Mr. Benjamin’s wealth was Robin. As Robin poured Mr. Benjamin’s life’s work into her glass, she said to herself, “Mister Benjamin, I hope your gin made you as happy as it’s about to make me.” In the case of Mr. Benjamin, it did make him happy but not in the same way Robin desired to be.

Robin took her glass of gin and made her way to her den. Looking around at the various objects that filled her den, Robin noticed something on one of the shelves that held her figurine collection. A figurine was there that had not been there before. This figurine was a guy in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, with skin as pale as a dead man’s and an expression of deep depression. Robin noticed this figurine but didn’t think much of it being there when before it wasn’t. She just thought she had bought it, placed it on the shelf, and forgotten about it.

Robin sat down in her big oversized chair and began to slowly empty her glass of gin. As she did, she watched something that was completely devoid of any significance, a roaring fire. Not an actual roaring fire but a video of a digitized fireplace. Robin had thought about getting a real fireplace but thought better of it when she thought of the pollution one would put out. She didn’t think of the coal that is needed to be burned to generate the power necessary to run the flatscreen television and the DVD player that she using to watch her fake fireplace, but most other people don’t think of that either.

As she continued to nurse her gin and stare at her fake fire, Robin heard the faint sound of someone’s voice. The voice was soft at first but slowly growing in volume. A voice that kept on repeating one word. “Robin. Robin. Robin.” Robin heard the voice but dismissed it, thinking it was the wind blowing against her house, but the voice continued to get louder. More peculiar than the volume of the voice was the direction the voice was coming from. The voice was coming from directly behind Robin. Finally Robin became motivated to investigate the noise, or at least look in the direction it was coming from. When Robin swung her face around toward the voice she was met with another face. A face that met Robin with, “Hello.”

“Aaaaah!” Robin recoiled in fear at this sight, spilling her gin while doing so. A mortal dread began to fill Robin’s entire body, and that reaction was justified. A man who she did not know had managed to, not only get inside her house, but also get right beside her. “Who are you? What do you want,” Robin yelled at the man.

The man tried to calm Robin. “Robin, you don’t need to be frightened of me.”

“Too late!” Robin continued to retreat from this stranger untill she hit the wall of her den and found some weapons, her figurines. Robin threw a figurine at the man, and another, and another, each figurine she threw missed. Not because Robin is bad at throwing things at people, each figurine she threw was right on target, they all just sailed right through the target.

The strange man said, “Robin, I need to tell you something.”

The still frightened Robin said, “Who are you? What are you? What is going on?”

“Don’t you recognize me?”

Robin looked at the man again and then remembered. The jeans, the t-shirt, the pale skin, she had just seen this man. “You’re that figurine I saw on my shelf just now.”

“Don’t you recognize me form any place else?”

Robin looked at the man again. She looked at him long and hard. “No, I do not recognize you.”
The man was displeased with this answer, displeased but not surprised. “Well, it’s not like I didn’t expect that. You didn’t acknowledged my presence before, what would be so different now. Anyway, who I am is not nearly as important as what I am.”

“Okay, what are you?”

“I am a ghost.”

Robin didn’t believe the strange man that was standing in her den, a fact she conveyed using sarcasm. “Right, sure you are.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“No, I totally believe you are a ghost and not a product of massive gin consumption.” Robin was continuing to talk in a sarcastic manner, a practice that would aggravate anyone, including the man she was speaking to.

As Robin walked over to pick up her spilled gin glass, the man who was still standing in her den said, “Robin, I have something important to tell you.”

Robin snatched up her glass and said, “I’m sure you do, mister gin-soaked fantasy man.”
Robin turned to make her way to the kitchen and in doing so turned her back on the strange man who was trying to talk to her. This act provoked the following response: “Robin, you will listen to what I have to say, now!”

The supernatural quality to the man’s voice stunned Robin to the point where she could only turn toward the man and say, “Okay.”

The man maintained the same supernatural quality in his voice as he delivered the message he was sent to convey. “On this night, you will be visited by three spirits. The first spirit will visit you at the stroke of midnight. The second spirit will make their presence known to you at two A.M. exactly. The final spirit will appear at four in the morning. These spirits will impart a message to you. If you do not take their message to heart, you will soon end up like me. Do you understand me Robin Anderson?”

Robin was still stunned from the supernatural quality of this strange man’s voice, but she did manage a response. “I really need to start drinking less.” Unfortunately that was it.

The man looked at Robin like you do when you’re trying to telepathically tell somebody exactly how annoyed with them you are. This didn’t work as neither Robin nor the man are telepathically inclined but the gesture alone was intensely creepy. The man then closed his eyes, took a deep breath, which is strange for a ghost to do, then disappeared as silently as he appeared. Robin was left alone again with only her empty gin glass in her hands.

Most people would look at what just happened and be different somehow. Greatly afraid, greatly dreadful, or greatly moved to accept the upcoming visitations. Robin was not. Robin’s exact reaction was, “If gin is starting to give me hallucinations like this, I need to switch to bourbon.”

Robin decided that right then was the perfect time to go to bed. Believing you just had an alcohol fueled hallucination tends to have that effect. Robin put her gin glass on the kitchen counter to be washed in the morning then made her way to her bedroom. Robin follows a pretty strict routine when she’s getting ready for bed, even to this day. The first, if it’s not already done, is to close and lock her bedroom balcony doors. She secured the dead bolt just above the main doorknob and the surface bolts on the top of each of the balcony doors. The second is to change into her pajamas, usually consisting of some flannel pants and a large cotton shirt. Robin usually does her dressing inside her walk-in closet, not due to concerns over prying eyes, but because it’s simply big enough to allow her to do so. Lastly, Robin brushes her teeth, thoroughly and completely, because that’s what she’s done, everyday without fail, since she was a little girl.

Robin crawled into bed and fell asleep at about 10 P.M., as was her norm. As Robin drifted into slumber her thoughts were not of the ghost that just visited her and the spirits he said would visit her that night. Robin’s thoughts were of sleeping long into Christmas Day, maybe long enough to put the whole day behind her. That was not to be.