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A Gay Christmas Carol
by Bill W.
Chapter 4 – The Final Spirit

Pat did not fall asleep this time and he felt the presence of the final spirit, long before he saw it. He dropped to one knee and stayed in that position, as the final apparition, dressed all in black, drifted gracefully toward him. This spirit neither smiled nor spoke.

“Oh, Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come,” Pat addressed him, “I fear you more than the other two spirits who have visited me tonight, for I know you are about to show me things that have not yet happened.” The specter nodded and then pointed, and Pat turned to see the first scene begin to unfold. In this vision, Pat saw himself triumphantly holding up a newspaper, whose headline claimed that a constitutional amendment had been passed in the United States, denying gays the right to marry or even live together, and thus upholding traditional family values. As he scanned the article, he read that the Supreme Court had also ruled that granting legal rights to domestic partners was illegal, thus striking it down. The same court had also ordered that specifically worded sodomy laws were constitutional and each state had the right to set the morality standards for its citizens in their own bedrooms.

Pat watched as his older self was mobbed and cheered by his appreciative followers, knowing that it was pressure from him and his organization that had cleared the way for such changes to take place. As various people commented about how he had ‘restored the moral standard of God fearing people,’ or that ‘he had saved the country from becoming another immoral wasteland,’ Pat watched himself beam with pride.

Without warning, the scene changed and Pat now found himself back at the blond boy’s house. However, this time they were in the garage of his home and the boy had just climbed a small stepladder and tossed a rope over one of the exposed beams.

“What is he doing?” Pat screamed. “You’ve got to stop him,” he pleaded. The spirit merely shook his head and Pat turned to watch the boy tie off the one end of the rope, before placing the end with the noose around his neck. He hesitated for a moment, as if he might change is mind, but then he jumped away from the ladder, kicking it to the ground in the process. Now, there was no way to reverse his actions and his body jerked and twitched briefly, before it became limp, as his neck had snapped, when the weight of his body dropped toward the floor.

Pat felt sick, as he realized what had just happened. ‘How could that boy choose to kill himself, rather than accept a normal sexual orientation?’ he thought. ‘Why wouldn’t he just be a regular boy, with natural, healthy desires?’ He didn’t have long to pursue these thoughts, however, as he soon found himself watching the young raven haired youth he had visited twice before. The youth appeared to be living in an abandoned building, but he was far the worse for wear.

It was obvious the boy had been beaten up a few times, as there were many bruises still apparent on the visible parts of his body, and his clothes were extremely soiled and threadbare. This suggested everything else the boy had taken with him when he left home had been stolen long ago. The boy’s face was gaunt and his body looked emaciated, and Pat wondered how long it had been since his last meal. At this moment, he thought back upon the words he had spoken earlier, and they came back to haunt him. “Well, he was given a warning, so whatever he endures will be his own fault. He should have heeded his father’s warning, as he was only making a reasonable request.”

Again, he wondered why a young man would live like this, rather than give up his unnatural ways, and he couldn’t help but feel sorry for the young man, for all the pain he had endured. He wished to stay and learn more about the teen’s predicament, but that was not to be, as the specter lifted his arm, and the scene changed yet again.

This time they were standing in an alley and Pat could see a young man trying to hide himself in a large cardboard box, and he stepped forward to investigate what was going on here. As he peered inside the crate, he inhaled deeply, being shocked by what he discovered.

“What is my son doing living like this?” he demanded; yet he received no reply. Instead his guide lifted his arm yet again, and the scene shifted once more. This time Pat was standing in the shed behind his home, looking at his own son and he was kissing one of his school friends very deeply and they were doing other things of an intimate sexual nature with each other. ‘How could my own son be queer?’ he wondered, trying to determine if he or his wife had made any mistakes that would have led the boy to do such things. When he realized they hadn’t, he began to wonder if what they said was true. ‘Were people really born with their sexual identity predetermined?’

The scene shifted yet again, but this time they were in Pat’s church and Pat was giving one of his fire and brimstone sermons about the sinfulness of being gay and loving a member of the same sex. However, this time he could watch his son in the pew, seeing him being really uncomfortable with himself and squirm in his seat and try to justify the desires he felt with the enormity of the sin he was committing. Pat could tell how hard his son was struggling, and he knew his sermon was only making this struggle more difficult for him. Before he could see any more, the scene shifted again, but this time he was in his son’s bedroom, probably later that same day. This time his son was hurriedly packing his things and then Pat watched as his son slipped out the window, obviously running away from home.

There was no way Pat could deny the impact he had inadvertently had on his son’s running away and it tore him up inside. All this time he thought everyone was able to make a conscious choice as to their sexual orientation, but now he began to question his own beliefs.

“Are these the things that ARE to be, or only the things that MIGHT be?” he asked the dreadful spirit, but he received no reply. However, before his could determine what he wanted to do next, the picture changed yet again, but this time Pat was standing before the throne of God, to receive his final judgment.

“Did I not command you to love one another, as I loved you?” the Son of God asked him.

“Yes, you did, but I didn’t think that meant for us to accept any abomination.” Pat responded, though meekly trying to justify his actions.

“Did you think my commands meant that you were supposed to harass those you didn’t agree with, until they killed themselves or had to withdraw completely from the rest of society? Did you think I meant to incite others to hate those you condemned? Did I not teach you that love is the greatest of gift of all?” Pat did not respond, but merely hung his head in shame.

“It is because of the likes of you that many of my gay children have committed suicide, been murdered, or died of neglect on the streets, and that is a far cry from anything I would ever want to happen. Why would you or anyone else think that I would condone hatred toward your fellow man or suggest violence to coerce them to change their ways, so they could gain admittance into this heavenly kingdom? Those who propose hatred and violence to correct wrongs are far worse than those they seek to change. It is for that reason you will spend eternity in the pits of hell.”

No sooner had the final words escaped the Son of God’s lips, Pat found himself falling – falling into the depths of hell. He began to scream, not willing to believe that he would suffer this fate, when all along he thought he was doing God’s will. He was still flailing and screaming on the floor, when his wife began to shake him, bringing him back to the world of the here and now.

“The spirits wouldn’t have shown me those things, if they could not be changed,” he gasped, more to himself than anyone else, which brought a very puzzled and worried expression to his wife’s face.
. . . . . . . . . .
Based on an original story of the same name by Bill W; Copyright © 2000-2009 by BW, All Rights Reserved; used by permission; modeled after “A Christmas Carol” by Charles Dickens; Click on the following link to go to Bill's great site. http://bwsryc.gayauthors.org/agcc/index.php

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