Some holiday cheer

[C.]

Hey everyone.

Two Christmases ago, Ray started a fanfiction story in honor of the coming holiday. Some of the rest of us jumped in and contributed to this story. Since the old forum was hacked, the story was thought to be lost forever.

But I kept a copy, and here it is, in full (and uncensored, because on the old forum, they kept blanking out the word "shore" for some reason), for everyone to enjoy as the holiday season draws near. Keep in mind that this is FICTION. None of the quotes are to be taken seriously, and the ending is obviously pure fantasy. You will also see guest appearances of other OSAers. Have fun guessing who wrote which parts!

Enjoy!
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Stingray Dickens and Company Present: A Nightwish Christmas Carol


Chapter One

Nightwish was finished, Tarja Turunen perceived. "How could they be stupid enough to get rid of me?" she thought. In her mind, she knew that she was the only reason Nightwish existed. It only existed for her and her alone. But, Tarja felt her immense talents were being wasted on those that could never appreciate her immense talent. She felt that as she was in her office in Kuusankoski when the first people came in.

"Tarja, about Nightwish..." one asked.

"Nightwish? Bah!" she sniffed, "Humbug!" as she went through the mounds of e-mail.

"Tarja, " the person replied, "look at what Nightwish has done for you."

"Humbug! What has Nightwish done for YOU?" she shot back, "I do not need Nightwish! I do not need those lowlife fans! I do not need them. They exist for me!" as she continues poring through her e-mail.

The person looked exasperated and was trying to figure all this out. "But, Tarja, Nightwish has given you so much."

Tarja fired back, "Yes, it gave me bad food, bad bus rides, hanging with drunks, and even got me molested in Mexico. Nightwish? Bah! Humbug!"

As the person left, Tarja receives a phone call from the States.

"Hello, Tarja." the caller said, "This is Ann-Marie Reilly. I am a reporter for Beyond Ear Candy here in America. I would like to..."

"American reporter?" Tarja sniffed, "America? Bah! Humbug!"

"But, Tarja," the reporter said, "You have many fans here."

But Tarja would hear none of it. "American reporter, you can take you and your lowlife American fans and shove them where the sun does not shine! They had me perform in ratholes, in front of drunks, for peanuts! Sometimes we would get lucky and receive almonds! Now, you go straight to Hades!" Tarja would utter as she slams the phone down.

She gets up off her desk, goes for her coat, and goes down to the local coffee shop for a cup of good kava. It is Christmas Eve, and Tarja wants to get back to her husband for a small get-together with each other. After she gets her coffee, she passes a group of children singing carols on Kuusankoski's streets. They see the world-famous former Nightwish frontwoman and go nuts.

"Hello, Miss Tarja." one said.

"Could you sing a carol with us?" pleads a little girl.

Tarja looks down and says, "You can have your parents buy my CD off my site for you."

"But, Tarja," The little girl, not more than six years, pleaded, "Can't we not hear your beautiful voice?"

"Bah!" Tarja sniffed, "I will not waste my voice with the likes of you. Humbug!" And Tarja walks away from the teary-eyed child.

Tarja walks into her home, and puts on a fire. Later, after Marcelo decides to retire for the evening, Tarja decides to stay up to look at some prepared texts for the press. Then, out of nowhere, she hears a door slam. Since she was alone, she was rightfully worried. She went down to the cellar, and saw nothing. As she goes upstairs, she hears the windows slam during the howling wind gusts. Then, she gets spooked as she goes into the bedroom. She hears deep moans coming from the walls.

"Who's there?" she says. It was nothing, she thought. As she climbed into bed with her husband, she hears a low moan.

"Taaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrjaaaaaaaaa, Taaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrjaaaaaa." went the call.



Chapter Two

For what seemed endless moments, the cry, "Tarrrrrjjjjaaaaaaaaa" seemed to go on and on, moaning plaintively. Finally, after tossing and turning in bed for some time, trying to ignore the sound and go to sleep, Tarja had at last had enough, and went to go investigate the source of the problem.

"Probably those vitun repairmen who were supposed to fix the heater last week." Tarja muttered under her breath as she lit a candle and quietly tiptoed out of the bedroom. The heater had been making a rattling noise for some time now, and that was probably what was making the noise. As singers are far too focused on their voices to care much for small matters like home repair, she quizzically looked at the air vent where the heat was coming from, and heard nothing.

She shrugged her shoulders and started for the bedroom. But now that she was fully awake, she found she could not so easily get back to sleep, and went downstairs to the den to look over the list of applicants that were to qualify for her next round of singing lessons, to be given next spring after her Christmas concerts.

"Bah!" she said as she read the list. "All these impoverished Argentinian children, how naive do they think I am, to believe that their measly incomes are enough to pay for singing lessons from my voice?" she got up and went to open the window to let some fresh air. But before she could reach the latch to open it, a sudden gust of wind came in from seemingly out of nowhere and blew all the papers into a chaotic whirlwind, scattering all around the room.

Now she knew something was going on. Frustrated, she bent over and began to scoop up the papers. As she bundled up a pile and turned to put them back on her desk, she gasped in horror when she saw a woman sitting at the desk.

"Who are you?" she asked, astonished. But then she felt foolish, because she knew exactly who it was. It was the opera singer Renata Tebaldi, but then Tarja shook her head in even more disbelief. Renata Tebaldi had passed away earlier this year. It couldn't possibly be her.

"I'm the ghost of Renata Tebaldi." the woman answered, and Tarja gave her a suspicious look. The woman was dressed in a long, flowing black dress, and it would have been bare of adornments but for the fact that over the dress, it was covered in chains of various sizes, a huge lock on her chest, binding the chains together.

"You know, I could call the police and have you thrown out of here." Tarja said.

Renata's ghost shrugged. "Perhaps you can, but I'm a ghost. There's not much they can do to me by way of physical force."

"What do you want from me?" Tarja asked.

"I've come here to send you a message," Renata's ghost replied, "you see, I spend my days in the afterlife in bondage, being punished for my past sins. Mistakes I made, and people I wronged during my lifetime. If I am ever to break these chains and repent for what I have done, I must go to others like myself, and help them to not do the things I have done. I have come to you, because you need my help the most. My punishment is watching talent like yours go down the drain because of your ego. I'm here to show you what might happen to you because of it."

"But I don't understand," Tarja said, "you had a spotless reputation, I'd never heard anything so bad about you that you had to be punished this way."

Renata's ghost looked pensive. "That may be so," she said, "and I tried to live my life the best I could. But sometimes one must go through trials of their own, to teach lessons to others. Everyone makes mistakes. I was not perfect. When you cross over to the other side, you learn very quickly what your mistakes were in the world of the living, and how they affected those around you. That is why I'm here now. So you don't learn those lessons after it is too late to do anything about it."

Tarja crossed her arms, looking clearly annoyed. "Get to the point already." she said, rolling her eyes.

"Three spirits will come to visit you." Renata's ghost said. "They will each come on the hour, from midnight to three o'clock. Don't try to run from them. They'll find you, wherever you are."

Tarja continued to look bored. "Fine. I'll tell you what, I'll even have my maid brew a pot of coffee so they will have refreshments when they arrive." she said sardonically.

"Have it your way." Renata's ghost said, and threw her arms in the air. A mist swirled around her, and like that, she was gone.

Tarja shook her head and looked over at the clock. It was 11:27. She decided that everything she had just heard and seen had come from sheer exhaustion. It's not easy to be the greatest singer in the world, after all, Tarja thought as she turned off the light, lit another candle, and quietly walked back to her bedroom.


Chapter Three

At the stroke of midnight, Tarja could hear the chiming of the grandfather clock from downstairs. Despite her trying to deny it to herself, she knew that she could not sleep because she was waiting to see if these supposed spirits would arrive.

Tarja listened to the clock chime twelve rings in succession, and then waited. Dead silence. After a moment or so, a smug smile stretched across her face, as she thought to herself how silly it had been to think such things in her mind.

She looked over at Marcelo, who was still snoring softly beside her. Suddenly, a clap of lightning could be seen from the window outside, startling her. When the flash was gone, there stood a rail-thin woman at the foot of her bed.

Tarja could not speak. The woman made her way closer. She took Tarja's hand and said simply, "Come with me."

Tarja surprisingly obeyed, and walked with her to the balcony. The woman climbed up to the ledge and stood up. "What are you doing?" Tarja asked with surprise.

"We're going to do like the song you sing says, and walk in the air." the woman said, as if it were something everyone did.

"You're crazy, if you think I'll go anywhere with some stranger!" Tarja cried.

"I might be the stranger," said the woman, "but when you come with me, you are going to see many people that you have known. I am the Ghost of Christmas Past. We must go now. I don't have much time." she grabbed Tarja's hand and pulled her up, and within seconds they were indeed, "walking in the air".

After what seemed hours, they landed. They were in a small, humble town. All the little stores were laden with Christmas decorations, and there was snow all over the streets. Tarja was the first to speak. "You aren't bringing me anywhere new," she said, "this is Kitee, Finland...where I grew up."

The Ghost of Christmas Past nodded, and they walked on. They kept walking until they approached a school. They stood at the gates, watching the children play. There was one lone little girl sitting alone under the tree. She looked like she was crying.

"Do you recognize that little girl?" the spirit asked Tarja.

"No." Tarja said immediately. "Why should I?"

"You should." the Ghost said. "Look a little closer."

Tarja looked, and gaped in astonishment. "That's me! I mean, that's me...when I was a little girl!"

"Why yes, it is. Do you remember this day, so long ago?"

Tarja nodded. "There isn't much to say."

"Perhaps I should say it, then." the Ghost said. "You see, I know all about this little girl here. I know all about how the other girls used to make fun of her because she had a beautiful singing voice. I know how mean they were to her."

"Well, I showed them." Tarja said, lifting her head up defiantly, her chin trembling slightly. "I went on to become an icon in my home country. I've rubbed elbows with the President. Everyone in Finland worships me now. I bet those rotten girls are ever sorry now what they did to me. And they really think they're something. Do you know that they tried to send me an invitation to our class reunion? Like I would ever waste my time on them. Besides, I'm sure the only reason they invited me was to get backstage passes or a free autograph. I'm not that little girl anymore!"

"Sounds to me like that little girl exists now more than ever." the Ghost of Christmas Past said observantly. "You're still trying to prove something to them."

"Bah!" Tarja said. "I don't need to prove anything to such low-life trash." she said as she spun on her heel and walked away from the school.


Chapter Four

As Tarja turned and walked away from the scene, the spirit said, "Tarja, why don't you take a look to your right?"

"Why? I need to see no more."

"Yes, you do." said the spirit, "Do you know who that is?" as the spirit pointed to a little boy.

"Why? Do I really have to?" Tarja sniffed.

"Take a look." said the spirit.

They see the litle boy knock on the house door. "Good day, Mrs. Turunen. I am here for my lesson."

"Oh, hello, Master Tuomas, come on in." said the woman. Tarja eyes rolled in her head, and tried to ignore the scene.

"Tuomas used to come to your home for piano lessons. Do you remember what you used to do?"

"I basically ignored him." said Tarja.

"Oh, really?" said the spirit, "Why don't you watch?"

Tuomas is practicing as Tarja walks into the room. Tuomas is practicing a little of Sibelius, and Tarja jumps onto an easy chair to watch this. She was enthralled with his skill on the Turunen family piano. She smiled as Tuomas was going through his lesson. Tarja's mother would come in and motioned to Tarja to go inside for her studies. Tarja and Tuomas would smile at each other as she would leave. "Big deal! He was always at my house." Tarja sniffed.

The spirit then guided Tarja to the local school. It is Christmastime, and the school was having its annual Christmas dance. "Do you remember those two over there?" as she pointed to the trees.

Tarja looked, and then turned away. The spirit took her by the hand and pointed in the direction of the biggest tree. "Look!" the Spirit motioned to Tarja.

"I don't want to!" exclaimed Tarja. "I cannot look him in the face."

"That is Janne and you. Do you remember what you said about him?"

"No, I do not remember." said a visibly shaken Tarja.

The spirit whipped out a booklet from Wishmaster, and turned to the next to last page. "Go ahead, Tarja, and read it."

Tarja immediately turned her head and said tearfully, "I can't."

The spirit said, "Then I shall." and continued, "It says, 'To Janne, the love and light of my life'."

Tarja is visibly shaken at all this. She is now on the verge of tears as she begs the spirit, "Take me back. Take me back home this minute. I cannot see anymore."

"There is one more thing that you need to see. Do you remember this?" She is watching as two young men come up the walk to her childhood home. The shorter one rang the doorbell, and the door opened, and a young Tarja opened the door. Tarja greets them both, "Emppu, How are you? Good day, Tuomas."

"Good day, Miss Tarja." said Emppu.

"Miss Tarja, I have a musical project,and I'd like for you to sing on it." said Tuomas.

"Why don't you come in?" said the young Tarja. And, they would all go into the house.

"Do you know what happened in that house, Tarja."

"Yes," Tarja sniffed, "I regret that decision every minute."

The spirit seemed exasperated at Tarja's insolence. "Tarja, I will prepare you for your next visitor." Tarja was finally going back home. Then all of a sudden, she was back in her room. Marcelo was still unstirred. The time was 12:57, and maybe she could get some sleep.

She barely closed her eyes when she felt something fuzzy against her face. She shrieks and then jump awake as she sees two guinea pigs on her bed, "Eeek! Rodents! Marcelo, Marcelo! Wake up! Get these rodents off the bed this instant!"

Then, a voice from the front of her bed called out, "Night, Wish, come here." She looks and sees a man in a cowboy hat and a leather jacket in a white silhouette. "Tarja, he cannot hear you."

"Who are you?" Tarja demanded. "Get yourself and those rodents out of this house this instant!"

The spirit laughed and said "Tarja, Marcelo cannot hear you."

"Who are you?" Tarja demanded.

"Don't you know? I am the Ghost of Christmas Present. And, I have something to show you."


Chapter Five

As with the ghost before him, Tarja was acquiescent and followed him. "You know," she said, "the ghost before you was a little more concerned with keeping herself clean." she said, scrunching her nose at his dusty boots and mud-stained hat.

"I'm a ghost!" he said. "We don't concern ourselves much with earthly things." to show her what he meant, he stuck his hand right inside his chest, and it went right through. Tarja looked like she was going to throw up, that is, if divas ever thought to be low-class enough to upchuck.

The cowboy led her to a white horse with a flowing golden mane. "Go on, get on my steed," he motioned.

"I would never ride a filthy animal like that!" Tarja exclaimed.

"Oh, now you've hurt his feelings, missy." the Ghost said as he bent his knees, and in a single jump mounted the horse. He extended his hand to help Tarja up. "Let's get going. Yee-haw!" he exclaimed, and the horse reared up and took off.

It seemed like they were flying with the wind, as scenery flashed by them in a blur. Tarja held tight to the spirit, closing her eyes tight, yet peeking out every so often to see if she could catch a glimpse of familiar places or faces. After a moment or so that once again felt like hours, the horse neighed and came to a stop.

They stood on the shore of an island, and Tarja groaned. "I already know where we are." she retorted.

"Well, there's a Christmas party going on," the cowboy explained, "why don't we take a look?"

Tarja heaved a sigh and followed the spirit up the sandy path to the Holopainen home, where the windows were lighted and sounds of laughter and music could be heard. There were animated Disney figures in the windows, dancing and swaying benevolently to a different Christmas carol. As they approached the door, Tarja held up her hands, as if to signal the spirit to stop.

"Oh no, now I know I'm not invited here." she said.

The Ghost shook his head. "Nobody can see us." he said. "Didn't the Ghost before me tell you that already?" when Tarja shook her head, he laughed. "Well, Christmas Past is far too concerned with matters of days gone by to remember anything of the here and now. I suppose that's my job. So don't worry. We can see them, but they don't know we're here. This is what's going on right now, while your body is at home sleeping. Only our spirits are here. Because you see, that's all that really matters anyway."

To demonstrate that they were indeed invisible to the human eye, the Ghost went right through the door. Tarja squeezed her eyes shut and jumped through too.

When she opened her eyes again, they were in the Holopainen house. There was a table in the distance, laden with food and a huge birthday cake in the middle, decorated both in a Christmas and birthday style. It was Tuomas' birthday. He stood among the crowd; it was a small crowd, but every person there meant the world to him. Tarja recognized some of the faces. There were Tuomas' parents, his siblings, and some friends of his. There was Wilska, who was on break from his tour with Finntroll. There was Tony Kakko, Tuomas' dearest friend. Tuomas' girlfriend stood beside him, his arm around her. Everyone had a smile on their face, everyone was laughing or joking.

Out of the corner of her eye, Tarja noticed a frail little boy sitting by the window, near the Christmas tree. She had never seen him before. Maybe he was one of Tuomas' cousins or nephews, Tarja mused to herself as she watched Tuomas approach the little boy.

"Are you OK?" Tuomas asked the boy. "Would you like some more punch or cake?"

The little boy shook his head. Tuomas picked up a pair of crutches sitting a few feet away, and asked the boy if he needed to use the restroom or step outside for some fresh air. The little boy shyly shook his head again and went back to watching the blinking lights.

"That's Tiny Timo," the Ghost explained. "You see, a few days before your final concert in Helsinki, this boy's mother wrote to Tuomas, asking if she could possibly get backstage passes for her son at the show. Timo is very sick, and this could possibly be his last Christmas. Nightwish is his favorite band of all time, and Timo's mother wanted to do her very best to fulfill her son's only dream---to see his favorite band, and possibly meet them."

"So then, why didn't I meet this boy at the Helsinki show?" Tarja asked.

"I'm not the Ghost of Christmas Past," the spirit said, "but as this was not very long ago, I think I can fill you in. Tuomas approached you on the day of the show, asking if there was any way that the band could make an allowance for two more people backstage after the show. Do you remember what you said?"

Tarja furrowed her eyebrows, trying to recall the conversation. "I had so many things going on that day, I don't know." she said.

"You said that you could not give up any of the names you had put on the list, because all of them were important members of your 'entourage'. So Tuomas had to turn down Tiny Timo's mother because there was no more room for any more people at the after-party. But Tuomas is a man of his word, and promised that he would make it up to Timo at Christmastime. He had planned to throw this party anyway, and had counted on you coming, like you once used to every year. It was then that Tiny Timo's dream was supposed to come true, and he would meet the members of Nightwish."

Tarja looked around. "I don't see any of the other bandmembers." she said. "And I was never invited to any Christmas party."

The Ghost pointed to the staircase. "There's Jukka now." he said, referring to the man in the bandanna, coming down the stairs with his little daughter. "Looks like he and Luna are ready to go home. And we just missed Marco; he had to get home to his twins. And Emppu was also here earlier, showing Tiny Timo how to play some chords on the acoustic guitar."

"Well, that still doesn't explain your theory about me being invited." Tarja said.

Now it was the Ghost's turn to roll his eyes. "Must I explain everything to you?" he said, frustrated, and grabbed Tarja by the hand. They walked right past all the guests and went to Tuomas' room. There, on his desk, were the RSVPs from his Christmas invitation. Everyone had answered, all but one. There was still an envelope there, with Tarja's name and address on it. It had never been sent, and Tuomas, the sentimental soul that he was, still had not had the heart to throw it away; even though it had been over two months since he had seen her last.

Tarja stared at it for a moment, not sure what to say or how to react. She did as she normally did these days whenever faced with a bad situation, and immediately defended herself. "If Tuomas had told me why he needed those backstage passes, certainly I would have been more accommodating to his wishes!"

The Ghost shrugged. "Why should he have to be? In all fairness, he didn't have to ask you for a thing. He did it because even at the end, when he knew that there would be no future with you and Nightwish, he respected you as a bandmember and asked what you wanted to do. He could have taken any of the names off your list without any permission from you, but he's not like that. And for a boy like Tiny Timo, it meant more to him if he could meet the band this way, in a setting like this, on Christmas Eve. Maybe, just maybe, Tuomas thought that by then you would come to your senses and realize how much he cares for you, not only as a bandmember, but as a friend."

Tarja was silent for a moment and then stammered, "He was never my friend!"

"Like I said before, I'm not the Ghost of Christmas Past. She would have to clarify that to you more than I can. But I get the feeling that's not entirely true." he said observantly.

"I don't want to talk about this anymore!" Tarja huffed, and stormed out of the Holopainen house, the sounds of their laughter seemingly mocking her.

To be continued...

 

[C.]

More....
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Chapter Six

Tarja ran out of the house, running down to the shore. Hoping to get away from the Ghost and all the things that were hounding her, she jumped into the water. One moment, she was diving underwater, the next moment, she shot up in her bed, soaked with sweat.

Had it all been a dream? She wondered. Looking at herself and seeing her clothes sticking to her body, she suddenly felt very unsure of what had just happened. She sat there for a moment, out of breath. It certainly felt real. Her body was wet from head to toe, and she was gasping for air as if she really had been underwater. No, it couldn't be. But it felt so real.

Again, she looked over at her husband, as if looking to his presence to validate anything at all that had just happened to her. Like before, he was sleeping beside her. His sleeping position had changed slightly, but aside from that, there was no indication that he was aware of anything going on. She turned to look at the clock on her nightstand. It was 1:55. She almost felt inclined to burst into tears, knowing in a few more minutes this would start all over again. Tarja thought to herself that maybe she could escape it, and then remembered the words of Renata's ghost. They would find her, no matter where she was.

Tarja decided to wait it out and let the final ghost come. After all she had seen so far, maybe the last of it wouldn't be so bad. She must have looked at the clock a thousand times in the next five minutes. When two o'clock came, the grandfather clock chimed those two notes ominously, as if it were a death knell and not the announcement of another hour.

She looked around, waiting to see where this ghost would show up. There was a mirror above the dresser in their bedroom, and she noticed a faint glow emanating around the mirror as she gazed around the room. As if frozen solid, she wanted to get up and look, but stayed rooted to her bed. As her eyes adjusted more to the faint light, it grew brighter. Then she began to notice that her reflection was fading in the mirror.

Panic-stricken, yet fascinated, she continued to watch her image slowly fade in the mirror, and become encompassed by a blinding light. Soon, she could no longer see herself in the mirror. The light was so bright that she was surprised that Marcelo had not awoken. Then she remembered the words of the Ghost before, and that he would not see or hear anything that went on here.

Then suddenly, the room went dark. The light faded in once more, only now it was in a shape. In the mirror stood a hooded figure in a long gray robe. Tarja could not see their face, nor make out whether it was male or female. A long, bony hand emerged from the mirror, pulling the rest of the body out. Soon the hooded figure stood before her, stretching out the skeletal hand.

Tarja waited for the spirit to say something, but they did not speak. "Who are you?" she asked. They did not answer. After a few more tries, she finally decided to answer for them. "You're the Ghost of Christmas Future, aren't you?"

The Ghost nodded and floated out of the bedroom, turning once to beckon Tarja to follow with a wave of the bony hand. Tarja followed, and before long they were outside. Some snow had melted in her backyard, and it became a pool. The moonlight cast its rays upon it, making it a prism of colors to behold when one would move this way or that. The spirit approached the puddle and dipped its finger in it, causing it to ripple and wave. The Ghost rose to their feet and pointed at the pool, urging Tarja to come closer and to look inside. It was clear that this spirit spoke no words, so Tarja knelt at the foot of the pool and gazed at the rippling waves, which formed images as they slowly subsided.

A mist swirled around them as she looked closer. Soon, the scenery around her seemed to drop away and there was nothing but the images before her.

It was like watching a movie. At first there was nothing but a dark screen, and then images slowly faded in. She caught sight of an old man sitting at a desk, writing. His hair was shoulder-length and he had a full beard, but Tarja knew who it was. It was Tuomas. On the other side of the room where he sat, there was a Christmas tree. There were children sitting at the foot of the tree, playing with toys, and urging "Grandpa" to join them in their play.

"Just a minute, children," Tuomas said as he scribbled something down quickly. Tarja could see the contents of the room: there were family pictures all over the place, but there were also shelves laden with different awards. Tarja came closer to them, recognizing many of them from their days with Nightwish. But there were some that she didn't recognize. She nearly stumbled over when she saw the Academy Award sitting among some of those awards. She rubbed her eyes as if not sure of what she was seeing. When the award did not suddenly vanish, she stepped closer to look at it.

Sure enough, engraved on the bottom of the Oscar was "Tuomas Holopainen, award for Best Film Score", and then the name of the film and the year it was awarded to him. So he had made his dream come true. He had done everything he had set out to do, wrote the film score he had dreamed of, and was given the highest honor for it. As she looked around, she realized that he still lived on the island in Kitee. It bewildered her how he could still stay in the same place all his life, after the many ways he had been taken from here and given so many opportunities to rise to something better.

Then she noticed something else. Unlike the custom-made mantel at her home, where all of her awards were displayed in prominence behind heavy glass and locked doors, Tuomas' awards were scattered willy-nilly behind pictures of family picnics and childish drawings of homes with smoking chimneys. It was apparent to anyone looking that his greatest acheivement was the family he had gone on to raise, not the music he made or the awards he was given for it. She rummaged through his closets, and noticed that still many more awards were thrown into cardboard boxes, labeled in his hurried scrawl. Here were these high, presitigious awards, tossed into a closet like they were nothing!

Since it was apparent the Ghost would not speak or give her any insight as to what had happened to Tuomas over the years, she decided to look around and get the answers herself. Between looking at his photo albums and gazing at his many awards, she figured it out. Inside one of the cardboard boxes, she even found an American Grammy. Tarja was even more puzzled. America, the country where they played in places that didn't even have toilets, where they didn't eat for weeks, giving him awards for his music? Well, it couldn't have been for any Nightwish music, Tarja thought sardonically as she held the Grammy up to the light and examined it. Sure enough, the name "Nightwish" was emblazoned on the bottom of the award. It was awarded to them many years after her departure from the band, but as she held the golden gramaphone in her hands, she saw it was very real.

It seemed like she had been looking at his pictures and memoirs for hours, when really it had only been but a few minutes.

Turns out that Nightwish had found a replacement singer. Of all places, they found her in America. She had been on a show called American Idol the year before Tarja had left Nightwish, singing of all songs "Phantom of the Opera". Her operatic voice was beautiful and strong to anyone listening to it, but it was clear she would not go far on American Idol. Her name and voice had been quickly forgotten, until someone had sent Tuomas a tape of her singing several months after Tarja's departure. He flew out to America to meet her, she sang a few bars of "Wishmaster" for him, and flew back to Finland with him to cut the album right then and there.

From there, everything seemed to snowball. The band would get the recognition in America they had been waiting for because of the girl's affiliation with American Idol, but once the album came out and they proved themselves on the stages of Europe, that association became quickly forgotten. Tarja flipped through Tuomas' scrapbook and saw countless newspaper reviews of their first album without her. Time and again the headlines would read "Tarja Who?", and before long, the new girl was embraced as a member of Nightwish. The fans grew to love her, for she was not only talented vocally, but she would spend many nights after shows signing autographs and meeting fans. She was not one to hide behind her personal assistants or run to a limo after a show. Within a few short years, the memory of Tarja Turunen ever being a part of Nightwish faded and became distant.

"Well, I see that Tuomas did quite the job of wiping my contributions to the band out of existence." she said haughtily as she threw down the scrapbook. As she did so, a mist floated around her and she was transported out of Tuomas' home and to a graveyard.

There was a woman kneeling at a grave, weeping. The tombstone was crudely carven, but Tarja could see the name. Tiny Timo. Reading the date on his tombstone, she could see that he died only a few weeks after the Christmas party at Tuomas' house. The woman was Tiny Timo's mother, and the loss of her son was more than she could bear.

"Oh, no!" Tarja exclaimed. "Please don't tell me that this darling child is going to die!" she looked around for the spirit, and they merely nodded. "Isn't there any way to stop it?" the Ghost shrugged their shoulders, as if to say that there might be a way, but they did not know of it.

The sounds of Tiny Timo's mother weeping seemed to deafen them, and almost as quickly, everything grew dark. When Tarja could see again, she saw that she was still at a cemetary, and standing in front of a grave. She screamed when she saw that the name on the tombstone was not Tiny Timo's, but her own.

The grave was still uncovered, as if her funeral had been on that day. There were rows of chairs there, but there was hardly anyone there, only Marcelo and the priest he had hired to conduct the ceremony. No one had come to her funeral. She tried to think of all the friends they had, and none of them were there. She had run them all off, one by one, as her opera career grew.

Tarja clawed at the dirt, as if to bring herself back to life by digging up her lifeless body. When she rose to her feet, she was no longer at the cemetary. She was in a brightly-lit room and could see Marcelo sitting at a long table covered with many microphones. He was giving a press conference.

"...Yes, it's true." he said. "I have given this press conference today to announce that upon my wife's death, that all of her personal journals will be published in a book sometime next year. You will have a firsthand glimpse into the mind of my wife, and all that made her the world's greatest singer." he said it as if it were a speech he had written, and as Tarja looked over his shoulder, she could see that he had. She looked over at the reporters, all of them wearing bored and disinterested looks, as if what he was saying was something they had all heard many times before.

"Are there any other ways you plan to keep Tarja's legacy alive upon her death?" one of the reporters asked as he chewed gum.

"Why, yes." Marcelo said. "Starting at midnight, I am holding an internet auction. I am selling many of Tarja's items; from larger items like her Rolls-Royce, to more personal belongings like her nightgowns. All of the money will go towards a fund to build a monument to Tarja. Every penny will go to build a statue in her honor, in the middle of Buenos Aires."

Tarja gasped, and yelled at her husband, "How can you do that? That's my lingerie that you're selling to these crazy fans! Certainly there is enough of my fortune to build that statue without getting any charity from these low-lives!" but as she screamed, Marcelo continued to answer questions. He didn't hear her. She was dead.

Another thing that she didn't know was that there was no fortune. There hadn't been for years. Marcelo had dwindled every last penny on bad business deals. In the end, she had no choice but to give music lessons to inner-city children for pennies on the dollar. The once-respected opera singer was now laughed at and whispered about on the streets.

There had been a time when she did become a renowned classical singer, and made a very nice fortune. But it didn't last long. Word got out soon what a diva she was, and no one wanted to work with her. For those who could tolerate her moods and nasty attitude, they could not handle Marcelo and his constant need to control not only Tarja, but everyone involved with her. Tarja's name became synonymous with poison among the world of opera productions. Within a few short years after leaving Nightwish she was virtually penniless, with nothing but her former fame and success to bring the occasional bit of money to the house, and regular meals on the table. It was not uncommon for her to do things she once deemed beneath her; like being a commercial spokeswoman for canned soup or showing up at events like the opening of a new department store in town.

Everyone at the press conference knew that Marcelo was full of it when he said that this money would go to building a memorial for Tarja. They all knew that he would spend it on himself, as he always had with the money she made. Sure enough, she saw him spend every penny that he got from the auctions, not a single one going to this supposed monument. She watched him buy new, expensive clothes, two new cars, and several exotic trips with many different women in tow. She wondered what had happened to the man she had loved, and how they had gotten to the point she was seeing now.

She looked over at the spirit and begged of him, "What can I do? This isn't the Marcelo I married. That woman who is me, she's not who I set out to be when I left Nightwish. Tell me, what can I do to fix this? Please, tell me what to do!"

The Ghost of Christmas Future was silent. The bony hand came out of the long cloak again, and simply laid a finger on her chest. The change had to come from her, and it had to come now. Marcelo would not be the one to change her, nor would he be the one to initiate the change. He would change with her, but she had to be the one to do it.

"Please," Tarja said, crying, "I don't want it to be this way. Show me what to do! I don't want to end up like this. Help me! Help me!"

As she cried for help, the mist swirled about them and she was left alone, kneeling before a puddle of slushy snow.


Chapter Seven

"Spirit! Spirit!" Tarja screamed as she was lying on the ground by her grave. "Please, help me, Spirit! Spirit!" Tarja was now crying hysterically. She never wanted this. She never wanted the world to crash alongside her. As she slowly got up from her fetal position, she came to her knees in prayer. She needed help. She was desperate, for she did not want to end up like this. She did not want to end up despised and alone, as the spirit was telling her.

"Please," Tarja begged as she was on her knees, "I was so horrible to everyone. Please, God, I want to make it right. Please, help me." as she sobbed uncontrollably. As she was falling onto her chest, she never noticed that she was in her bedroom. She kept saying, "I want to make it right, I want to make it right."

At this time, Marcelo awakes to see his wife hysterically crying on the bed, rocking back and forth. Horrified, Marcelo tries to calm Tarja. "Tarja, Tarja, what is wrong?" Marcelo asks.

Tarja realizes that she is in her bedroom, and feels Marcelo's hand on her shoulder. "Marcelo?" Tarja asks.

"Yes, my sweet, it is me." Marcelo saks, "What is the matter?"

Tarja looks around in a daze. "What time is it?" Tarja asks.

Marcelo says incredulously, "It is eight A.M. on Christmas Day. Feliz Navidad, my flower."

"Christmas Day?" whispers Tarja as Marcelo nods. A wide smile comes across Tarja's face. The type of smile that she had when she was a little girl. She yelps in sheer joy as Marcelo is sitting on the bed completely flabbergasted as to what, if anything, has gotten into his wife.

Tarja leaps off the bed and runs to the window. She throws open the window so hard that one thinks that she might have fallen through. She has a wide smile on her face as she is experiencing absolute joy. She spots a young boy on the street, and calls out to him. "Boy! Boy!" she yelps. The little boy looks up in shock that the famous Tarja Turunen would be calling him. "Is the market open?" she asks.

"Yes, Miss Tarja." the boy replies.

"Good! Stay there! I will be right down." Tarja runs down the stairs in her robe, while Marcelo sits in a state of shock at the state of his wife. She takes out a bunch of Euros from the safe. She opens the door to greet the boy. "Boy," Tarja says. "I want you to go to the market and get this list." She writes out a list for the boy, "When you get the items, come back here, and I will tell you what to do with them." The boy nodded, and Tarja says, "And, I want you to get something sweet for you and your family. Understood?"

"Yes, Miss Tarja." the boy replied.

The boy went off, and Tarja turns to a stunned Marcelo and says, "I want you to get ready. We are going to Kitee."


To be continued (again)...

 

[C.]

The last of it!
_________________________________

Chapter Eight

After Tarja asks Marcelo to get ready, he proceeds to dress. A few minutes later he is ready. Tarja is ready to go as well, dressed in her best clothes. "OK, let's go meet our friend outside."

Outside the door is the young boy who Tarja summoned to fetch the goods she wanted.

"Miss Tarja" the boy asks. "Here is the stuff you asked for!" Tarja smiles and hands him a roll of Euros. "And here you go boy, for a service well rendered. Merry Christmas!" She then bends down and kisses the young boy on the cheek.

"Thank you Miss! Merry Christmas to you, too!" he runs off with joy down the street.

Tarja and Marcelo hail a passing taxi and tells the driver to take them to the rail station to take the first train to Kitee. Along the way the pass the gorgeous National Cathedral and see a bunch of kids singing Christmas carols. "Driver, stop the car!" The driver does so and she runs out to join the caroling kids, and adds her angelic voice to a rousing performance of "Hark! The Herald Angels Sing".


Chapter Nine

After Tarja finished singing the Christmas carol with the kids, she bid them gather round and gave each of them a hug. "Keep to your dreams," she said, "you all are fantastic singers. In fact, I want the world to see your talent. I am putting on a Christmas concert tonight, and I want you to come and sing with me."

"But, darling," Marcelo argued, "are you sure you want to still do the concert?"

"Yes," Tarja said, "and the money is going to charity to help arts in the schools. The old me, she thought of pocketing the money and taking a long vacation until it was time to take more money from those poor Argentinian children. But now...I want all that money to go to fixing their schools and seeing that they get a good education." she reached into her bag and handed each child a toy, and gave them each a pass for her show tonight, and instructions on where to go and how to get there.

Marcelo reached over and felt her forehead, as if she had a fever. "Are you all right, my dear?" he asked.

"I've never felt better." Tarja admitted. "Now please, don't ask me any more questions for right now. Everything will become clear to you in due time." she took his hand and led him to the now-boarding train. Finnish schedules are rigid, and the train was leaving in exactly one minute. If they dawdled for two, they would be out of a train ride for at least another hour. And she had business that just would not wait.

The train sped along, the scenery rolling by as Tarja turned her face to the window, closing her eyes and letting the sun light her face. If she were to have seen herself, she wouldn't have recognized the woman in the seat. Anyone gazing upon her at that moment was inclined to say that she never looked more beautiful; she looked content, she looked happy, and the worries that lined her face once before appeared almost gone. She almost looked exactly like the young girl that had left Kitee years ago to pursue dreams of a singing career; youthful and optimistic, believing the world held promises and that life was a constant joy. Yet, if anyone were to ask those who were looking at her in that moment to describe it, they were simply left speechless. Even Marcelo, who made a career out of finding the right words to describe his wife to others, could find no way to articulate what he saw in the face of the woman he slept beside night after night, and thought he knew so well. But looking at her now, it was as if he was really seeing her for the first time.

It was almost a shame to break her from her lovely reverie when the train stopped, and Marcelo gently touched her hand to let her know it was time to go. "Come on," he said as he stood up and offered Tarja her coat. He still didn't know where they were going, but as peaceful as she looked, he didn't really care.

As she stepped off the train, Tarja flipped open her cell phone and dialed a long string of numbers. "May I speak to Ann-Marie Reilly, please?" she asked. Marcelo furrowed his eyebrow in confusion, and merely watched his wife go on. "Is that so?...Helsinki, you say? May I have the number, please?...Thank you ever so much. Merry Christmas to you!" she snapped the cell phone closed and went to sit on a nearby bench to make another phone call.

"May I speak to Ms. Reilly, please?" Tarja asked again at the number in Helsinki. A few moments later, the voice she was waiting for came onto the phone.

"May I help you?" asked Ann-Marie.

"You are the journalist from America, no?" Tarja asked. "This is Tarja Turunen. You still want an interview with me?"

"Why, yes. You couldn't have called me at a better time. I am actually here in Finland, spending Christmas with my dear friend Petri. When can we meet?"

"How fast can you catch a train to Kitee?" asked Tarja.

"I can grab the next one, I guess." Ann-Marie replied. "Where will I be meeting you?"

"At the Holopainen household, on the island." Tarja said. "See you there."

Marcelo stared at Tarja, wide-eyed, not believing what he just heard. "How do you know that Tuomas will even answer the door for you?" he asked.

"I don't." she said. "But I have to try. Now come on, we don't have much time!" she roughly grabbed his hand and pulled him along. As luck would have it, a cab drove by and they were able to shave a few minutes off their time by waving it down and rushing headlong to the Holopainen residence.

When Tarja and Marcelo arrived, they silently walked up the path, their boots making slushy sounds in the snow. Even the forest animals would have been hard-pressed to hear them. Tarja put a finger to her lips, in indication to keep quiet, as she approached the door. She rang the bell, and didn't realize that she was holding her breath until the door opened, and she sighed with relief.

"Tarja?" Tuomas' mother answered the door. The woman before Mrs. Holopainen almost seemed to be a ghost from the past, it had been so long since she'd seen the young woman that now stood at her front door. But she also knew the strained relationship between Tarja and her son. She didn't know what to make of Tarja being here now. But in typical Christmas spirit, she invited Tarja in and asked her to be seated, figuring that all of this would make sense very soon. "Tuomas!" Mrs. Holopainen called up the stairwell. "You have a guest at the door!"

At that point Tarja could see Tuomas, who was carrying Tiny Timo in his arms, come from out of his room. They had been upstairs playing Tiny Timo's brand-new Playstation 3, which came as a present from all the Nightwish bandmembers. Well, more accurately, Tuomas had been playing alone for about an hour, as Tiny Timo was weak and had started to nod off only a few moments into the game. He still looked half-asleep, with his head resting on Tuomas' shoulder, his arms hung limply about his neck.

Tuomas shook his head, as if not believing the guest he saw at the foot of the stairs. "Tarja?" he asked as he came down the steps. "What are you doing here?"

Tiny Timo heard the name and was roused from his sleep. "Tarja?" he asked, rubbing his eyes and seeing the woman before him. He wondered if he was dreaming.

"Tuomas." Tarja said simply as they met at the bottom of the stairs, the months of awkwardness between them still strong, neither one of them knowing what to say or how to say it. Tarja started first. "I know you're angry at me. I know I've done many things to hurt you. I can't go back and make that right. All I can say is...I'm sorry. I don't know what got into me. You were my friend once, and at one time, one of the best friends I ever had. Maybe we can never be best friends again, but...I don't want us to spend our lives hating each other, either."

Tuomas gave a shy grin. "I don't hate you, Tarja. I never have. But maybe now, you realize why I did what I had to do?"

She nodded. "Probably now more than ever."

Tuomas nodded as well, in understanding of what she had said. "You know I've never been good at making speeches...my mother is making a brunch for my birthday. Would you like to stay? The other guys will be here in a few minutes, too." he turned to Marcelo. "You are invited to brunch, too."

Tarja smiled, and it seemed ages since Tuomas had seen her smile. It made him smile too. "We'd love to." she said, accepting the invitation. "In fact, I brought some food, too. There's a baked ham in my bag over there, if you can find a use for it." She then turned to Tiny Timo. "Who is this?" she asked of the boy, though she already knew everything Tuomas then proceeded to tell her.

"I knew you would come!" Tiny Timo piped up excitedly as Tuomas told the story. "It was my Christmas wish...Tuomas said that you wouldn't come, but here you are! Boy, he is good at keeping Christmas secrets!"

"But I'm much better," Tarja said with a wink, "I was so good at it that he was telling the truth...he didn't know I was coming." she took the boy into her arms and gave him a hug. "Now, tell me everything about yourself. I hear you're the biggest Nightwish fan in the world. I want to hear your story!" she walked off towards the dining room to be seated for brunch as Tiny Timo talked her ear off with his boyish chatter.

Over the next several minutes, the other members of Nightwish filtered into the house, each bearing Christmas presents, and a celebratory bottle of Koskenkorva as a birthday present to Tuomas. Marco's beard nearly fell off when Tarja appeared from the kitchen, wearing a smile and greeting him with a hug. "What is this all about?" Jukka asked in shock as Tarja turned to him and embraced him.

As the estranged bandmembers sat and caught up on lost time, the doorbell rang again. It was Ann-Marie Reilly, and Tarja had nearly forgotten the purpose for having invited her. Tuomas and Marco's eyes lit up in recognition; they remembered her from the final show. "This day has been nothing but surprises!" Tuomas exclaimed as he greeted Ann-Marie and bid her sit beside them.

"Now that you're here," Tarja said to Ann-Marie, "I can make the last of my announcements."

Marcelo was about to ask what was going on now, but learned by now that on this day, his wife was full of surprises. Ann-Marie took out her notepad and started writing.

"Tonight's Christmas concert is still on, only I hope...I hope that my old friend Tuomas will take the stage with me one last time for a special song." she looked over at Tuomas, and he nodded. "And I'm sorry, Miss Reilly, that I never came back to America to do the concerts I promised. I only hope I can make it up to you someday. And as for our friend Tiny Timo..." she put her arm around the boy and made sure everyone could hear what she was about to say next, "If his mother permits, I am going to make sure that he gets the best medical care possible. There is a doctor in the U.S. that can help him with his condition. I will pay for the operation and the recovery that he will need afterwards. Tiny Timo will be saved!"

Tiny Timo's mother, who had also been a guest in the Holopainen home, wept openly and thanked Tarja profusely. "What can I ever do to you repay you?" she asked.

"It is not you who needs to repay me." Tarja said. "It is I that needs to do the repaying. You have done enough by being the mother of such a wonderful child." she was pensive and thoughtful for a moment. "But we won't think right now of such things...today is Christmas, a day of hope, and of celebration!" she poured some egg nog for everyone sitting round, and drank a toast to Tiny Timo's health.

As Tiny Timo proceeded to open his presents, Tarja turned to Tuomas and took him aside. "I know that this doesn't mean that I am back with Nightwish...and I accept that. That is something I'll have to sacrifice as a penance for my old ways. But...I wanted to know, you will come to the U.S. for Tiny Timo's surgery, won't you?"

"Of course." Tuomas said. "You don't think I could sit here idly by in Kitee while this child is fighting for his life?"

"No, I didn't." Tarja said, remembering her old friend's sensitive ways. "But I want to do one last thing for you...I'm no psychic, but I have a strong feeling that you'll find the future of Nightwish in the U.S. Will you let me help you?"

Tuomas looked taken aback, not knowing how to respond to a request like that. "Sure, I guess. I suppose if anyone would know who is fit to fill your shoes, it's you."

"Great." Tarja gave a smile and she and Tuomas put their arms around each other, the hurts of the past seemingly fading away. As they walked back to the group, Tarja glanced behind her shoulder for a reason she could not name, and out the window she could have sworn she saw the ghost of Renata Tebaldi standing on the shore of the island, her arm lifted up, waving to her, wearing no chains on her person any longer. She was free now too. Tarja smiled, and wanted to wave back, but when she blinked, the image was gone, and all she could see was the sunlight shining on the waves of the water, sparkling like a million diamonds.

At that moment, the two returned to the circle where Tiny Timo sat in the middle. He felt like the luckiest boy in the world, to have his dreams come true at long last. He broke into a smile that could light up the dark as he exclaimed, "Bless us all...every one!"

THE END (?)