The Ghoul of Christmas Past

sail around a nineteenth century Kentish village as depicted in so many of Charles Dickens greatest works. One of the four-seater wooden boats was waiting to depart and in the back seat was another man.
‘Mason Sabre,’ murmured Jason, recognising him instantly. He looked dishevelled, and his eyes were wide with panic or horror. Like Jason, he was tied up, but also gagged and tied to a lashing point that had been added to the boat between his feet.
The ghoul’s master nodded, the unspoken instruction clear to the ghoul who hefted Jason painfully by his arms and dropped him into the boat next to Mason.
Jason bucked and struggled again, not wanting to have his binding attached to the ship. Was the plan to sink them on the ride and watch them drown? Why? The ghoul produced a piece of cloth from a pocket and moved in to apply a gag. With a chance to blurt one last question, Jason chose, ‘Why are you doing this?’
The ghoul’s master held up a hand to stay his giant pet. ‘To help you understand,’ cooed the mad man. ‘Mason knows why, of course. He recognises my voice, don’t you, Mason?’
Mason couldn’t answer but blinked his terrified eyes and mumbled something unintelligible.
‘It was all so avoidable,’ Mr Dickens lamented. ‘None of this had to happen, but once I have the last two shareholders, I have a nice presentation for you that explains everything.’
Another nod caused the ghoul to grab Jason’s head. He tried to fight but it was like trying to shove a mountain and he had no arms. When the ghoul put a massive hand around his throat and squeezed, Jason stopped fighting and let him apply the gag. Then he used a plastic zip tie to connect his bindings to another lashing eye in the bottom of the boat. With both men secure, the ghoul stepped back onto the shore.
‘Here is the clever part, Mr Pendergrass,’ said the ghoul’s master. ‘You are going to be the one to help me get Elizabeth and Richard. I’m sure they will be happy to meet you when you send them an urgent text message.’ The man pulled Jason’s phone from one of his fine Victorian coat pockets and proceeded to use it, chatting amiably as he did. ‘I just happen to know that Elizabeth will be at the big Christmas Eve production at the castle this evening. You’d think doing A Christmas Carol year after year would wear people down, but they seem to come in droves,’ he chuckled. ‘Still, it will make a convenient location for ‘you’ to meet with them, don’t you think?’
Neither man could answer, and it seemed their opinion wasn’t really of interest, for the man in the mask turned without another word and left them in the boat. The ghoul trudged after his master and a few seconds later all the lights went out and the footsteps faded away. The two captives were left with nothing but the sound of their own breathing and the gentle lapping of the water.

Open Air Theatre. Saturday, December 24th 1722hrs
A flash lit the air with an accompanying whoosh sound that drew eyes and heads. Another firework exploded in the sky above the castle, helping to entice the crowds in. Many had tickets, such as Michael and Mary but they could be bought at ticket booths dotted around the various entrances to the grounds just as easily.
The grey blanket of clouds had moved away, dropping the temperature a few more degrees which made it really quite cold, but there were portable heaters belting out warm air and lots of vendors selling warm drinks and hot food. Mary wanted a mulled wine and a bag of roasted chestnuts but saw no need to queue for such things herself. She wanted to get a good seat so they apportioned the tasks, Michael agreeing to get the food and drink while Mary arranged herself on one of the benches with the blankets they had brought along.
He had to admit that the Christmas Eve stage production, tired story though it was, had a certain romantic flair to it and the setting was hard to beat. Spotlights highlighted the ancient castle ruins which towered above them while yet more lights were set high and aimed downward to illuminate the stage from above. The players were not yet visible but an orchestra, there to give ambience and mood when required could be heard warming up.
All around them happy people were out as couples or families. Something close to half of all the people attending had dressed for the occasion, as was the tradition. Clad in fancy Victorian outfits, it gave the event a certain extra something. Were Mary to ever suggest dressing up, he would go along with it, but she never had.
The queue for the mulled wine was a long one as was that for the chestnuts, but Michael had seen other vendors just outside the castle grounds so headed back to the entrance they’d recently come through. He still had his ticket for re-entry so timing his exit to slip through a break in the tide of people coming in, he snuck out and found the queues this side were significantly shorter.
Determining that the wine would lose its temperature more swiftly, he joined the queue for the chestnuts first. There were only a few people in front of him and they were being moved along quickly - one person continually tossing and turning the chestnuts, the next bagging them and a third handing them over to hungry customers in a slick process. He took two bags, pocketing them and liking the warmth they imparted through his coat.
He didn’t make it to the mulled wine stall.
The castle sits on raised ground near the river so standing just outside the outer wall, he had a view down over the open plaza in front of the