Bong…
Bong…
Bong…
“Erm.”
Bong…
“zzzzzzzzz…”
Bong…
Bong…
Bong…
“Wha?”
Bong…
Bong…
“Nine,”
Bong…
“Ten…”
Bong…
“Eleven.”
Bong
“Twelve.” Twelve. It took a moment for Scrooge’s sleep clouded brain to think why he would have woken at this time. He’d slept through the tolling of midnight every night before, why should this night be any different? Then he remembered what Marley’s shade had told him. To expect the first visit at the stroke of one. No doubt it was anticipation of this rendezvous that had roused him. He decided to stay awake for the next hour so as not to be awakened rudely by his visitor. His anticipation, and not being able to see the clock made time go so slowly, that he thought more than once that he must have dozed off and slept through it. Finally, he heard the clock tower chime. Announcing the quarters first, then the hour with a deep,
BONG
And a pale hand pulled open his bed curtains. “Rise and shine Ebenezer.”
Scrooge started back, drawing his blanket up to cover himself in his surprise. Beside his bed stood a young woman, the black of her hair contrasting sharply with the sharp white of her skin. She was dressed simply in a black frock, but tucked under her arm was a top hat, with an umbrella hanging from her elbow, and around her neck hung a pendant with a symbol he did not recognize.
“You are the spirit who’s coming was foretold to me?” he asked hesitantly.
“That’s me.” She said brightly. “Spirit of Christmas Past at your service.”
“On the stroke itself.” He muttered.
“I never arrive a second before or after I’m meant to.” She answered, smiling warmly.
Scrooge peered at her. “Spirit forgive me, but have we met before?”
She seemed almost bashful for a moment, her smile widening. “We have. Most people meet me twice in their lives.” Then her face grew stern. “But don’t try to change the subject. Come on.” She held out her hand, and swallowing his fear, he took it.
“Where are we going?” he asked, as she drew him towards the window.
“Down Memory Lane.” Came the answer. As she lead him closer to the window, he faltered. “Spirit I beg you, I am Mortal, liable to fall.”
The spirit squeezed his hand reassuringly. “Relax Ebenezer. You won’t fall. Trust me.”
Strangely, he did, and followed her with no further objections. The wall before them faded, and they found themselves standing on a country road.
“Are you ready Ebenezer?” his unearthly companion asked. “This is your life.”
It took Scrooge a moment to recognize the area, but when he did, an expression of awe and pleasure crossed his face. He knew the road well, from the wagon ruts on either side, to the fields bordering it. Though he did not recall the pumpkin headed scarecrow with a cigar.
“Recognize this place?” his guide asked him as they started down the road.
“Recognize it?” he said incredulously. “I could be blindfolded and still find my way. I was a boy here.” A low cluster of buildings rose into view before him and he broke out into a sad sort of smile. “Yes, sure enough. I went to school, there, for years.”
“Strange how things you haven’t thought about for years can come back to you in an instant isn’t it.” She said.
As they entered the yard of the school, Scrooge jumped back suddenly for a horse drawn cart barreled through the gateway, full of laughing, happy children, on their way home for the Christmas holiday.
“The school’s not completely empty is it Ebenezer?” she asked compassionately.
“No.” Scrooge said. “No there is one boy left.” Without prompting, he strode to the door of the dormitory, entered, and beheld his own self, as a young boy, sitting alone. He sat reading by the light streaming in through the window. His face a melancholy mask of a boy trying not to be lonely.
“I didn’t mind really.” Scrooge said unconvincingly. “It was good spending time alone. I was ahead of all the other boys because I had more time to study.
Christmas Past sat down at the foot of the boy’s bed, and looked at him for a moment. Then she turned to Ebenezer and raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah. You’re ecstatic.” A wave of her hand and the boy faded away, and the room aged around them. Scrooge started, and looked around in shock. He was amazed to see the process of time sped up so. He looked back at the bed as the dark haired spirit hopped up from the bed.
“C’mon Ebenezer, you’re in the main building now.”
His brow furrowed at her way of speaking, but followed her lead to the main school building. There they found young Scrooge once more. Older now, but still quite a young man. He was not sitting now, but pacing with great energy. His face bore an expression of, one who dared not hope.
Scrooge, knowing full well what would happen next, for he remembered this well, turned to look towards the door, as sure enough, a young girl burst through, and threw herself upon the young memory, crying tears of joy.
“Home Eb!” she cried. “I’ve come to bring you home! Forever and ever! Father’s ever so much kinder than he was before, and I asked if you could come home and he said you could! We’ll finally be together again for Christmas!”
The tiny girl barely drew breath between sentences such was her excitement and joy. And still gleefully proclaiming his freedom and homecoming, and extolling the virtues of their much changed father, the girl nearly dragged Young Scrooge from the room.
The spirit watched, and giggled a little at the girl’s exuberance. “Lotta energy for such a small child.” She remarked.
Scrooge, wore a rare smile upon his face. A sad, tender smile that had not been seen there for decades. “Always.” He remembered. “Dear Fan. A breath of wind could have scattered her. But always such boundless energy. One couldn’t help but be swept away by it.”
“She died a young woman.” His guide said, with an enigmatic smile. “But not before giving birth to a child.” Scrooge took a deep breath. “A son right?”
He gave her a look that said quite plainly that he knew perfectly well that she knew the answer to her own question. “Yes. Fred. My nephew.”
“Ebenezer!” a boisterous voice broke in. Scrooge spun, startled at the familiar bellow. He found himself no longer in the school house, but in the business of Fezziwig, his old employer and mentor.
“Good lord,” he muttered. “Fezziwig! Fezziwig alive and loud as ever!”
The Spirit of Christmas Past smiled once more. “So you know this man?”
“Know him? I was his apprentice for half a decade! I and-“
“Dick!” Fezziwig called out. “Eb! Dick! No more work tonight lads! Christmas Eve boys! Let’s have the shutters up now! Come come, before you can say Jack Robinson!”
The two were off like a shot. It seemed impossible to Scrooge that he had ever been able to move that fast or with such enthusiasm. In what seemed like a twinkling Jack and Ebenezer had closed up the shop, and were back to help Mr. and Mrs. Fezziwig set up for the evening’s festivities.
And what a party it was. It was well known in that part of the town that there was one place to be on Christmas Eve. Dancing, music, food, drink, and the best company one could ask for. Scrooge, though he did not recall, nor had he ever known every name, knew and remembered every face. And even some of the stories that went along with them. He almost let himself be swept up in the magic and energy of the evening, when his eyes lit upon one face in particular.
It was a face he’d gotten to know quite well in the years to come, and hardly a day went by, though he’d never admit it, when he did not see it still in his minds eye. Always like this. The night he had met her.
“Belle.” He whispered, watching his younger self look shyly at the girl, then look away. Dick of course could always be counted on, for the moment he saw that Scrooge fancied the girl, he went into action.
“Hello,” he said, shoving Scrooge nearly into her. “Have you met Ebenezer?”
The spirit laughed at that, and Scrooge was caught up in her good spirits. Her smile was so guileless and kind. But soon enough, the scene shifted once more and her smile slowly died. Replaced by a compassionate look of sadness.
“Oh no,” Scrooge begged, sensing what was to come. “No spirit I beg of you, do not show me that Christmas. You would not be so cruel?”
“I’m not cruel at all Ebenezer.” She said softly, taking his hand. “I just am.” She turned him towards the bench in the park where two people sat side by side. “I’m sorry, but you have to remember this. To see it with fresh eyes.”
“You’ve changed Eb.” The woman, Belle said to the young man.
“What?” Young Scrooge asked. “What do you mean changed?”
“You’ve grown cold Eb. Distant. Towards me. You’ve hardly said one word to me all week. Once you spoke so kindly to me, all the time. Now it seems your only concern is business. Money.”
“Belle,” Young Scrooge said patiently. “I am securing our future. The world is unforgiving of those who do not prepare.”
Belle shook her head. “No it’s more than that. You may have started with that goal in mind, but now you are obsessed with gain. You’ve shut out all else. Even me.”
Young Scrooge sighed with exasperation. “There is nothing the world is so hard on as poverty. I have seen that with my own eyes. You have lived it. And yet there is nothing the world professes to despise more than the pursuit of wealth. Save me from such hypocrisy.”
“If we had met today,” she said determined. “Would you choose to marry a dower less girl?”
He had no answer for that. Oh Elder Scrooge could think of a dozen answers, some cruel, some hopeful. Most of all he wanted to force his younger self to get down on his knees and propose to her once more.
But the boy said nothing. And that was the cruelest answer he could have given.
“And so she walked out of my life forever.” Scrooge said bleakly. “Show me no more spirit. Please. Do you delight in torturing me?”
Sadly, she shook her head. “These are only shadows of what has been Ebenezer. Don’t blame me for what they are.” She placed a hand against his cheek and gave him a gentle, compassionate smile. “You’ve taken an important step here Eb. And it’s been great seeing you again. But my part in this journey is done. It’s for others to guide you from here.”
And his perspective changed, her hand on his cheek felt like, a blanket corner, and he found he was sitting on the edge of his bed, his comforter clutched in one hand, the corner gently resting against his face. For the first time in decades, he felt like crying.