Ebenezer somehow found himself back near the rectory house on a fog bound night that one would expect to be bone-chilling clammy and cold, but he was still enveloped in comfortable warmth. Just a few feet away he caught site of an unfamiliar specter, very dark but with a sheen of foggy light, just enough to distinguish it in the moonless dark of night. It was the image of a very worn out but black full monk's cowl with almost skeletal hands and bony fingers at the end of the wide sleeves. The naked man could catch only very faint glimmers of morbid facial features within a very deep pulled over hood. He did not want to see more.
"I take it, spirit that you are the final ghost that Jacob Moorfield identified for my visitation tonight. I can deduce that you are the ghost of winter solstices in the future?"
The ghost nodded affirmatively. He pointed toward the rectory front door. The structure seemed worn and shabbier ~ as if in need of a paint job and a host of small repairs. They entered through the door. Ebenezer recognized the deacon, Carnie Brutus, speaking with someone from the congregation he believed to be a local mortuary. "The Bishop will be here tomorrow. He seems confident that he can find a bright young seminarian to deliver the guest sermon for the holiday services Christmas eve and day. . . What's that? He was a great intellect, but not much of a personal touch. Someone more gregarious and approachable would be better suited here."
Ebenezer's face turned ashen with a sullen look. "Spirit, are these images I witness here things that will occur for certain, or can the circumstances be altered from reformation of conduct?"
The morbid specter merely pointed back out the door.
**********************
The very odd couple were drifting through doors into the small bungalow Ebenezer knew to be the rented home of Bob Crocker.
The family was seated by the lit hearth, excepting one. "Now Dad, it has been a comfort to us that our young ones have come back to live with us these last few days. They won't be going nowhere until the New Year."
Bob Crocker cast a sad and sullen look, as if he had not heard a word his wife had just spoken. He finally responded. "Oh yes, Mother. You are right, a great comfort."
"Except you, Ginnie. If you keep rubbing them that way, you're going to hurt your eyes."
"Oh Mother! Leave her as she is. Let her cry as long as she needs to."
"I can't help it. Every time I walk into that little bathroom, I half expect to see our lovely Tim in the tub." The young woman blew her her nose and sobbed very quietly.
Bob broke a very awkward silence. "Let me tell you all who I saw on my way out of the cemetery, today. It was Rev. Ebenezer's nephew, Fred. He is such a kind hearted soul. When I told him about Tim, he had a look of sincere shock and sorrow on his face. He told me how sorry he was for me and my wonderful family and assured me that Tim would have a place of honor in the roster of the fallen gay."
********************
It was gloomy cloudy daylight back at the compound by the rundown church rectory again. "You can take me back to my bed in the rectory of the night of these visits now, Spirit. I can see starting tomorrow there will be need of some serious changes.."
The ghost was serious though and silently thrust his arm to point toward the entrance of the rectory such as he saw it now. Back inside, Ebenezer was not pleased to see the old Bishop, a man he did not hold in tolerable regard ~ someone he always felt the obligation toward being diplomatic and obsequious. The older cleric seemed to be holding court with the deacon and some trustees.
"He thought he had everyone fooled for a sense of devotion, holier than thou. Don't think I don't know the unspoken understanding that both he and Moorfield were supposed to be celibate. . . The two frauds probably had a dirty little queer man's love nest going on here."
Ebenezer started to grow red in the face.
"Look at this place. It could use some new blood in here. . . Moorfield was supposed to be the darling essayist in the Church Councils. If you ask me, they both just plagiarized C. S. Lewis and a couple of others. . . It just galls me to think I have to drive all the way back here between Christmas and the New Year to preside over the service for a queer that nobody had much use for, anyway."
Ebenezer exploded despite knowing he could not be experienced by anyone but the ghost. "Well don't make the trip on my account, you bigoted hypocrite. You don't think I abstained from sex, huh? Well more fool me that I did so. Fuck y'all! From now on, it will be my privilege to be the preaching slut, and I don't care who knows it, you pucker-faced loveless sorry sons o' bitches.
"Oh spirit in my heart I will keep the spirit of the winter solstice, Christmas, New Year, Valentine's Day and a whole lot more through the whole year. That, spirit, will be my inspiration to be a passionate loving man true to the man I love, true to all my friends, and true to my flock as guide in Christian faith.
"Oh spirit, I promise I will avoid wasting time with sterile and burdensome authority as much as possible and focus on my love and devotion for people who can be touched and those who are in true need. Spirit, give a foolish but horny man another chance. I will keep the festivities not just at this time of the year, but all year long, I will, I will, I will. Please spirit!"
********************
Once again, the naked man who seemingly had been transported to different places and times found himself on the carpet of his frigid bedroom, although flaccid now. His hands seemed to be clasped together in fervent prayer. Being in the room was a good sign, but he could not be sure whether he was, in fact dead or still alive. If alive, he could not be sure how much longer he would remain so. He scrambled to climb into his antique bed and cover himself, figuring that he could at least muster that little defense on behalf of his mortality. He was emotionally exhausted and fell into deep slumber in seconds.