Earnest Thoughts

The Phantom slowly, gravely, silently approached The spirit was shrouded in a white garment, not unlike a bedcover. The garment covered it from head to toe, obscuring its features, save for two rugged holes cut where its eyes should be. Scrooge fell to his knees, “spirit,” he cried, “can you not show me a life where I have found my one true love and settled down with our beautiful children. Please, torture me no further with visions. I know the only future you wish for me to see is the one when I am gone.” The phantom makes a low sound of disgust, Scrooge hangs his head.

The phantom continues to make this sound, a low haunting sound, until “pah, that’s better,” it clears its throat. A deep voice that seemed to boom through the essence of reality, “how arrogant of you to ask anything of me. Is it not enough I am giving you these visions? Is it not enough that I wish to save you?”

Scrooge dares not look away from his shoes from fear of the phantom’s disapproval, “my apologies, it has been a rough night. Well, if you could, lead on quickly dear spirit, let’s save my soul before dawn.” He tried not to say well let’s get this over with. He was so tired, after the night he had. Scrooge was known to respond poorly to lack of sleep and this was lacking in sleep.

The spirit sighs, leading on, Scrooge follows beside the spirit. He tried to keep at a brisk pace, almost a jog. The spirit ignored him and kept at its own steady trudge until they came across a small knot of businessmen. Scrooge looked up at the spirit, “no, I do not wish to partake in this, as I have told your predecessors I am not a spy, I refuse to listen in on conversations that are not directed at me. Why should I? I know these men; I trust in their respect for me.”

The phantom inclines its head towards Scrooge, suddenly the man found himself unable to move, unable to escape the conversation before him. Scrooge scowls back at the phantom. He was a man of honour, he kept his deadlines, kept his work up to date, never spent a penny more than needed and always kept out of other people’s business. Now however this was shown to be a bad thing, that mankind was his business.

“It is truly a tragedy, the firm, there is no employer. I feel it would only be charitable to take over the business and make it my own.”

“Ah, that was just the thought I was having. Clearly, I should pay my respects at the funeral, see that the heir understands how weighty such a business is, how hard it is to run, not something to jump into.” A second chimes in.

“I’m sure any heir of Scrooge would be willing to run the business, it is all he ever talks of,” the third points out and the men laugh for a second, “I feel it would be only kind if I offered my advice, I would require some compensation but surely that’s just what Scrooge would have wanted.”

Scrooge observes, “Spirit, they cannot be planning to take over my firm? That is not theirs to take. It is my nephew’s, and oh, he’s such a young boy…” his experience with the previous ghosts had really driven home to Scrooge what a failure he was. Allowing the boy to be brought up with no family. He needed some toughening up.

The scene changes and his nephew sat before Scrooge, his clothes torn, his feet bare blackened stains against the pure white show, “my boy,” Scrooge kneels next to him, “oh he looks so much like Fanny before she…” he choaks back a sob, “spirit please, tell me those men will not harm him, that they will allow him to grow as owner of my business.”

“No.”

“Oh spirit, why must you show me this, I cannot change my nephew’s ways, he wants to give, if I allow him any of my funds there will not be enough for the both of us to survive.”

“He is your nephew, surely you can feel compassion.” It states.

“Compassion is what got him here! How am I expected to change when this world does not!”

The spirit turns away, moving on from the vision, “your excuses does not change what will take place if you do not change your ways.”

“Spirit, I implore you-”

“No more,” the spirit cuts him off, “now come or we shall be late.”

They eventually arrive at the Cratchit, “I just don’t understand, the man’s dead and still he won’t part with his belongings, all I asked is for coal, but they said all his belongings, including the coal, were to be taken away.

“What a stingy old man, even in death he has nought to spare.” Mrs Cratchit tuts, “what’s he saving it all for anyway, surely he knew he couldn’t take it all with him.”

“Maybe he tried, you know, like those kings who get buried with all their wealth surrounding them.”

Scrooge watches the interaction, “but spirit, although I did not share my wealth I shared my voice, I told them my feelings, why I even came over to see Tiny Tim.” There’s a silence, “I cannot say that I am glad a child is dead spirit, but he was in an awful amount of pain… Nothing from this time could have saved him.”

“That was not what my predecessor meant; you could save him Scrooge.”

“Nonsense! I could not save him. The boy was cripple and ill. He could not save himself nor could any mortal.”

“Your intervention could. If you chose to become charitable.”

Scrooge stares at the spirit in amazement, “how is it my duty to care for this child? I did not birth him, nor raise him. We have made acquaintance once and I found him dreadful. The boy has no skill at life.”

“He was never given the chance to learn, your wages that you unfairly pushed upon him. The man can barely feed his family.”

“Can any man? His family is larger and more demanding than mine. He chose to keep bringing them into this world, surely it would be better if he took responsibility, I cannot take that. I am his boss not his advisor. Spirit, I do not know what you want.”

“Your greed is what’s separating you. He works the same hours as you and yet he receives a fraction of what you reive.”

Scrooge sighs, “I shall evaluate his pay but surely his home circumstance has no impact.”

“Why? Keeping to yourself has led you here.”

“I cannot say I agree but I cannot allow my nephew to grow up destitute.”

“And?”

“I must change to do so,” Scrooge looks to the spirit for guidance, “but how can I?”

The spirit gives no answer, moving on again. They ventured back out into the harsh cold. They moved away from the warmth and light of the Cratchit home. The snow paled the city making it look ill. Scrooge notes this with a growing sense of dread. Despite himself Scrooge found himself huddling closer to the phantom.

The drunken, the half-dressed and slipshod all decorated the streets, bringing their own putrid colour to the scene. Fluids that should not be seen stained the snow. Not an ounce of pure white to be seen.

Eventually they reach an oil stain of a shop, somehow more dilapidated. It sagged like a Christmas tree planks and roofing tyles littered the street like pine needles. The phantom and Scrooge venture into this dwelling. They’re met by four figures huddled round what was clearly Scrooge’s belongings. Scrooge turns on the spirit angrily, “I specifically asked for that to be liquidated, for my every last belonging to be sold so every penny could go into the business!”

“A business that is no longer benefiting you, nor the ones you love. Who would care enough to look after your items? Who would care at all?”

Scrooge pauses, looking at the spirit, “take me away from here,” his tone is defeated. He had assumed it was more than his wealth that made him likeable, but it seemed that all people saw from him was for that.

The spirit took mercy on Scrooge, walking off, Scrooge whisked away in his shadow.

Mist obscured Scrooge’s vision but he could vaguely make out the stones jutting from the ground. The phantom points to one, “go look at your grave, bask in the reality that you died alone, that no one even cared enough to put an epitaph on your grave. You Scrooge have made everyone around you miserable and in return they have done nought for you.”

Scrooge absorbs this for a moment, venturing forward to get a closer look. His heart sank for the spirit was right, “I thought I was polite.”

“It was not enough.”

Scrooge’s shoulders sag. He falls to his knees in despair, what was he to do? He clutches ta the ground, which is soft under his fingers, he peers down at it, only to find his bedsheets. He looks around to find his bed curtains. He was alone.