A Rock Star Christmas Carol

Ten Years Ago:

The England weather was ghastly. No more than usual for it being a rain wash mind you, but one that brought a melancholy emotion to an already joyless occasion.

Syco Entertainment’s founder Simon Cowell, lays dead in a simple mahogany shined casket at the head of St Paul’s Cathedral, one of the largest churches in London.

The silence of the dimly lit chapel was sound enough to hear the downpour outside clicking off the roof and windows.

Inside the Cathedral at the front by the coffin stood six souls, all with the same emotion one possibly could express at such a daunting time.

The Bishop, the priest, Louis Tomlinson, Liam Payne and two graveyard keepers that would ultimately transport the body to its final resting place outside in the courtyard.

According to Simon’s final arrangement in the letter of his last rights, he wanted to be buried in the wealthier section of Kensal Green in a mausoleum. Unfortunately for him, his wife had depleted his net worth with her own selfish desires and in turn the plot had been neglected to be paid. That left Tomlinson as the primary benefactor and he would be damned if he was paying £1,000,000 pounds for an extravagant funeral.

So here they were; no music, no decorations and the cheapest coffin next to a pine box that could be purchased. The only thing Louis Tomlinson did for his successor, was hold the funeral in the cathedral and that was only because he had enough respect to honor one of his final requests – which also happened to be the cheapest.

He cleared his throat loudly, the sound echoing off the acoustics of the walls and vibrating back to the other five occupants.

Liam, who was positioned at the foot of Simon’s coffin turned toward his friend with a frown, wondering why he would interrupt the proceedings of the priest, but then again – no one had been saying anything to begin with as they were the only ones to show up for final respects.

The priest, who had finished the final eulogy a few moments prier, stood awkwardly at the front and overlooked the endless rows of unoccupied seats.

It was almost disheartening that the music mongrel’s wife, nor son, attended to wish him a final farewell; but then again, that’s what happens when you are despised by virtually everyone, even one’s own gold digging family.

“I’m a bit surprised, truthfully,” Louis began, his toneless utterance causing the vibrations to reiterate back to the small gathering. His cerulean eyes were as cold as ice while glancing over the wooden pews, the blinding white walls with decorated holy statues and comforting shelter of the stained glass that kept meddlesome noses from prying into the affairs of others that came to grieve.

If Louis could feel sorrow to mourn for his successor, he would. If he could feel anything but the icy water that constantly circulated in his veins, he’d gladly offer it in place of the nothingness that haunted him now.

Grief was something he had been well accustomed to for a very long time and eventually with enough anguish, even the strongest break. Louis was broken and couldn’t be bothered to carry that burden anymore – so he didn’t. He left it alone as it should have been left when it started and thus, the man that stood there was not the same one as he once ago was and if he could help it, never would be again.

“That more people weren’t here?” Liam questioned softly, not wanting to disturb the atmosphere in such a holy place.

Louis scoffed.

“No. That his wife didn’t come about to make sure he was well and truly dead. I was there when he keeled to the floor, but try telling that to the callow cow.” He finished with an eye roll.

“Heart attack was it? Poor soul.” The priest shook his head sadly and looked at the pale face in the coffin that would soon be left to rot.

Louis chuckled.

“Aneurism, actually. One moment he was overlooking the rooftops of the smaller buildings in his penthouse office on the top floor, prattling away about the next big sensation and then the next he just clutched his head, screamed and fell to the ground as dead as a doornail. By the time the emergency service team got to him, well, he was hemorrhaging out his eyes, nose and ears – horrific sight to say the least.” Louis recanted, the memory still fresh to him.

Liam’s mouth dropped open in astonishment at Louis’s blunt description and yet, he said it all with a smile and a wink.

“Louis! That is hardly being appropriate.” Liam chastised, adjusting his copper cufflink on his white undershirt, which matched perfectly with the black jacket, pants and shoes he chose for the occasion.

Louis was far less formal with a baseball cap of his favorite team, a pair of old ripped knee jeans and a Bob Marley shirt with Tom shoes.

“Sorry. I did not realize there were children under the age of five here to be concerned about. Seriously, Liam – if you’re going to chastise me for the events I did not bother to sugarcoat, then you needn’t concern yourself with showing up for work tomorrow,” Louis threatened, gesturing his hand out almost cockily before his tone took on a more indignant hum “Seeing as Simon Cowell chose me as his successor, I need an assistant to tend to my affairs and we have known one another since private school, yeah?” Louis quirked his eyebrow, finally turning to look at his old friend.

Liam gave him a disgruntled look, but merely nodded his head.

Louis concluded with the same gesture.

“Good man. Now, seeing as there isn’t much else to be done here; I must leave and attend to more important matters. Just because someone dies doesn’t mean there isn’t profit to be made for today and I must see that the things that earn profit stay at or increase value. Liam? I will see you tomorrow bright and early at five AM sharp, yes?” Louis asked rhetorically, his footsteps making muffled thuds as he bounded quickly away from Simon’s coffin and down the long row of pews to the front door.

Liam gave a sideways wave to his new employer with an almost dread of the schedule they would have, especially with Louis’s attention span and his ability to start twenty projects at the same time. Something he could not attest for with Simon.

The story was, when Louis was a young lad of sixteen if Liam recalled correctly; Simon had given Louis his own record label at the very height of his stardom to pass on opportunity and success to other young artists in what he may succeed in the time he had.

Solo artist at that time had about the same shelf life as boybands and Louis realized he needed his foot in the door before opportunity closed.

Alas, despite wanting and getting his own label not much was done with it. Tragedy had been ever present and it always struck on Christmas.

The door slammed shut bringing Liam out of his troubled thoughts with a heavy sigh.

“He sure is a peculiar sort, isn’t he?” The minister spoke, gesturing a sign of the cross towards the door.

Liam had a feeling he was doing it purely for the sake of Louis’s soul and he doubt that or the purest of holy water would be able to help save it at that point.

“He’s troubled, sir. A lot of bad memories for this time of year for him. His family, his son…” Liam murmured off with a gentle voice, almost afraid Louis would hear him and come ranting back at him for telling strangers his business.

“What of his family, what of his son?” The priest asked softly, his weary sadness ever present at the mention of the news Liam relegated to them.

Liam looked down at the floor, guilt taking over his thoughts.

This was neither time nor place for a confession on Louis’s behalf and he could not relent information so freely without his blessing and he would get one when Hell froze over if Tomlinson had any say about it.

“I’m afraid that is not my burden to tell, but I can tell you that his demons are many. I fear the worst for him if he doesn’t make peace with them or himself.” Liam finished, walking a few steps so he was at the edge of the coffin to pay his final respects.

For a moment he simply stared down at the now lifeless corpse that was their former boss.

The minister and priest stepped on either side of Liam, both taking to putting a comforting hand on each side of his shoulders.

“You know what’s so ironic?” Liam scorned, keeping his eyes unblinking. The men replied nothing, so he simply continued. “That for all the artists and bands Simon made big, not one of them showed to pay their gratitude. Not even the corporate suites whom he helped line their pockets with was enough to take them from their busy schedules.”

The priest nodded in understanding.

“Sometimes my son, the work we do for others is far more a greater burden, but we do it because we are driven with the desire to do so. Simon knew what he wanted out of life and he took it without thinking of the consequences that his actions may have. This is the result and it is by far a thankless one at that. He forged his chains in life, he must reconcile with them in death.”

Liam gave a halfhearted agreement and slowly brought the top of the coffin down with a faint thud.

“Goodbye, Mr. Cowell. May you rest in peace.” Liam said, making a sign of the cross above.

“Amen.” The rest followed with somberly.

The funeral followed quickly, the men taking Simon’s casket to a corner wall grave with a simple headstone laid neatly in front of the fresh dug up ground.

When the coffin was centered into the ground below, the thumps of dirt was the only thing that could be heard – by the living at least.

Unknown to the world above, a large ghostly safe weighing at least a ton laid right below the deceases coffin. Inside the ghostly hollow shell of the rusted supernatural metal was a soul – Simon’s soul.

His screams of agony continued to echo endlessly. Simon had been begging for days for someone to help him, but the living cannot hear the dead and would most likely not offer assistance even if they could.

He was damned to be locked in a vault that he had encased around himself decades ago while he was alive and it grew in weight and size every day after.

At that present moment, he felt the constant strain of its weight and the endless empty space of what was once his in its hollow belly. It was empty and he had nothing to show for it but a life unlived.

It was excruciating, crushing and overwhelming, but the thing Simon felt the most was the heavy chain he had forged in life sutured into his back and attached inside the safe he once held dear.

It remained that way for ten long years.

Notes