The light was what awoke Scrooge. When he had gone to sleep for the first time, though not the last time of the night he would soon discover, he had put out his candle with the little tin snuff he always had next to his bed for the purpose. But now it appeared to be relit.
The curtains of Scrooge's bed were white and dense, better to keep the chill out, and wrapped about the bed fully. But the seam to his bedside table, where he would often keep a small cup of water for a dry throated morning, was flashing light. But that itself was odd, as he was indoors, and all of his windows were certainly shut.
None of this really went through his mind upon waking, instead he reflexively turned over in bed and closed his eyes tight to block out the glances of light.
That's when the insides of his lids suddenly burned bright red, and he was forced to open them. The glowing source of light had apparently moved just to the edge of his bedside, and in one swift swing of a hand, he cast the curtains aside.
The ghost was short, child-like, yet the gray eyes spoke of untold years. They had about them long hair past the shoulder, which dripped and drooped like wax, matching the strange denseness of their white, vaguely glittery, nightgown. In their hand was a large cone of metal, like a megaphone of sorts, with a handle. And atop their head was the source of the light.
The pale glow was bright, but not eye searing as it had been when Scrooge was hidden from it, and now it flickered and dimly glowed like a candle much smaller than the ghost was.
"Another dream!" Scrooge said, pulling his feet onto the bed, "Begone, dread spirit! Leave me to sleep!"
"Mmm..." The spirit considered this, very slightly sticking their tongue out, "No."
Scrooge closed the curtains.
The spirit walked about the bed and opened the opposite curtains.
"Gah! I said leave me be, spirit!"
"You're not very smart, are you, Mister Scrooge?"
"Smarter than an urchin like you, I can bet." Scrooge scrunched his body up on the bed, holding his knees to his chest. Despite this, he still managed to sneer down at the spirit.
"Well..." The ghost acquiesced, "You did go to a pretty fancy school..."
"I-" Scrooge looked away, then back at the spirit, "How did you know that?"
"I'm a dream!" The spirit waved a hand gently in the air to emphasize some amount of ephemerality, then dropped their mystic expression, "I'm The Ghost of Yuletide Past, okay?"
"Long past? You look seven, maybe eight years old. Or maybe twelve." Scrooge suffered the fate of many old people, wherein the numbers between 1 and 40 tend to bleed together when it comes to age.
"No. Just yours."
"And why are you here, Ghost?" Scrooge raised a hand, the light of their candle burnt brighter now.
"Your welfare, obviously! Did you just tune out everything Jacob said or something?" The ghost looked exasperated already, though this was not very different from their neutral expression.
"I can barely see..." Scrooge grunted, "Pray, put my hat on or something, anything to cover that light-"
The light flared, and true emotion showed on the ghost's face, "You dare ask me to snuff my light? The light that has been kept alight by the celebration of Yuletide since people began to notice the fall of snow? The fire light that those ancient peoples used to paint the walls of their cave homes with! The bonfires held by great warrior clans as they feasted while the chill of winter wrought about them! The very fire that lit the lantern of Saint Noelle's sled on her last voyage?"
"Eugh!" Scrooge shouted, "Barbarians and Fairy Tales! Don't spit such frivolities at a modern man such as myself."
The ghost squinted at him. Then they grabbed the sheets of the bed, and yanked hard.
Scrooge rolled off the bed and landed with a hard thump, and a pained yelp. Something had dug into the nape of his back! He was lucky something wasn't broken, at his age, but... other than the rock that had jabbed him, he felt that he had landed on something quite a lot softer than hard wood.
And far colder as well...
Snow! Scrooge was laying in a layer of snow, with his bare legs suddenly attached by the chill, "Yah-HOW! OW OW!" He scrambled upwards, splattering snow and gravel as he tried to get to his feet. He slipped and skidded his slippers on ice, losing one to a ditch as he tried to get to up.
Once he managed it, he finally took in the surroundings. "What? Where are we? It was night a moment ago, I'm certain."
But then he took in the sounds... the whinnies of horses, and the distant tapping of wood. The rattling of a carriage on a graveled snowy road, and the tweeting of such a specific bird, one he had heard so many many times. Despite the chill that assaulted, but did not freeze, his bare foot, he could now smell the winterblooms, so wonderful a sight in this region at this time of year...
"This is... this is Riverside... and Riverside Academy? I can see it just over there! The fields, and the river itself!"
"Go bulldogs." The ghost lazily said, pumping a fist in the air. They looked Scrooge up and down, "Your lip is trembling."
Scrooge bit his sharp teeth down on his lower lip before glaring, "Not but the chill! You sent me into... this! Wearing nothing but my nightgown! And now I've lost my slipper." He surreptitiously wiped his face with his sleeve, "Slush in the air too..."
"Oh stop being a baby. C'mon."
"Where?" Scrooge said, putting his arm down.
The ghost looked at him, a quite annoyed streak on their placid face. "You remember the way, right?"
Scrooge considered this, "I could walk it blindfolded." He said, and began stepping, his feet crunching snow.
He named each cart and carriage that passed, pulled by horses and manned by so many differing folk. "And that is Nordstrom, brought fresh fruit for the meals. And- Ah! Ali Baba! Oh! What a man! He'd tell us such stories, fairy tales from Shahazarad!" He chuckled, "Of the Princes and the Princesses of their land, and- Oh the evil Viziers! And the Genies they once had, who'd help the Prince, and rightly so!" He commented confidently.
"Oh, so Fairy Tales are great now?" The Ghost said, leaning forward, trying to catch Scrooge's eye.
"Eugh..." Scrooge sneered, "Perhaps... some are nice. At least, for children..."
"You're about... eleven."
"What?" Scrooge said, stopping at the doors of the great academy. It looked like something of a manor house, standing tall and mighty, though filled with classrooms and large windows. He gazed it up and down, "Eleven?"
The Ghost opened the door as Scrooge approached, but he entered into, not the great hall, the foyer of Riverside Academy for Youths, but a class room. And then he saw a scene he remembered, but from a new angle.
There he was, sat down at a desk, in an empty classroom. He was wearing his uniform.
On the desk he was at was a bowl of hot stew. His hand was hard at work, pushing and pulling a pen across a large notebook's paper. Like the leader of an army, he divided and conquered. No matter how the problems multiplied, he worked it out. His decimals were point perfect, and his tables never featured a short leg. He didn't look up at the intrusion of his future self or the spirit, focused so intently on the work at hand.
"That's me!" Scrooge said.
"The first Yuletide you'd ever miss." The ghost shook their head, "Sorta became a habit, I think."
"But I had good reason!" Scrooge said, "I had to study... to work hard! My family was poor, and my father put all he had into getting me an education! I had to be good, I had to be smart! I needed a future."
"How long did that excuse last?" The ghost asked.
Scrooge didn't have an answer. He just looked at himself. Intent, and focused. But he knew the feelings that were in that boy's heart, the pain, the misery, and most of all the homesickness. Scrooge sighed.
"What?"
"Oh just... looking at myself there. Reminds me of a youth from earlier today... I think I threatened him with a fire poker."
"Do you... even have one in your office?" The ghost asked, looking up at Scrooge incredulously.
"... No." Scrooge muttered. "Is this it, spirit? Is this what you wanted to show me? That I had a good work ethic? I know I did. I was there!"
The ghost stuck their tongue out just a bit as they thought, then turned. "Nah." They shook their head and walked to one of the windows, "C'mon, look here."
Scrooge obeyed, walking to the window. For some reason, it had a frost coating, despite being indoors. Scrooge leaned forward and wiped his hand across it, warming the glass and bringing off some loose ice. Outside- or, well, inside, was a scene he remembered fondly. "What?"
The room wasn't very heavily decorated, but some of the seasonal decor had been put up. Holly and tinsel, and the pine tree. It had few baubles on it, and a simple glass star as a topper. The warm light emanating from the central fireplace cast flickering shadows over the otherwise dark living room. The night outside, which Scrooge was standing in, provided not much else.
"Our parents home!" Scrooge said, "This must have been years later!"
"Our?" The ghost asked. They were standing on a wooden crate to be level with Scrooge's shoulders.
"Well, yes, me and-" He looked up again, seeing the woman inside. He pressed his hands to the glass, and watched as Fran entered and sat on the couch. "Fanny..."
Fan was wearing a modest dress and vest, the type of mixed wear you find often among hobgoblin women. As a kind, Scrooge's people were not prone to frills, yet Fan had a taste for skirts and human fashion. Scrooge remembered this well, and remembered the clothes she'd buy, the styles she'd look for, the magazines she'd read. He remembered the cakes she enjoyed baking, and her own candy that she made for him when they were barely teenagers. The books she loved to read, the way she spoke so curtly to their father, and the stride he'd take her jabs in, and-
"Hey, is something on your cheek?"
"No!" Scrooge said, wiping his face hard. "Just more of the snow you keep throwing me into!"
"Sure." The ghost said. Then after a pause, "Oh hey, you're here."
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"What?" Scrooge turned, and saw himself. A younger man, but not nearly as young as the man in the classroom. He had sideburns, and a strong and tidy look about him. Scrooge wondered how he managed anything but meekness working only with numbers even in those days.
The door opened, and Ebeneezer Scrooge entered. Then Ebeneezer Scrooge followed him.
The warmth was an immediate shift. Though something of the spiritual visions did not bring a chill to the marrow of Scrooge's bones, neither did the warmth burn, but perfectly met him. It was blissful warmth, the type of warmth you reminisce about when speaking of the summer in the peak of winter, the type of warmth you expect from a perfectly toasted s'more.
"Ah, Fan!" The younger Scrooge said.
"Welcome home, brother!" Fan said, standing and hugging him tightly before he managed to even put his hat on the coat hooks near the door.
"You two got along well." The ghost said, standing now at Scrooge's side.
"Famously." Scrooge elder said, staring blankly at the scene. "I know what this is, spirit. I know what you're about to show me."
"You sound disappointed. Isn't this a nice memory?" The ghost asked.
Fan spoke before the elder Scrooge could respond, "Brother, it's a bit early, but... here! I got you this." Fan reached for the box she was holding, and held it out to the younger Scrooge.
"Oh, Fan! Please!" Scrooge smiled, opening the shining red package, tied with string but topped with such a nice knot. "You didn't have to get me a thing, sister. What could this be...?" He got over his compunctions immediately as he investigated.
At the same time as Scrooge spoke, so did his elder self, "A new tinderbox." The Elder Scrooge smiled, and chuckled, "What a waste of money... and I got her a pair of shoes."
"Ah, sister! I love it!" Scrooge said, "Just what I've been needing... but I think I've got something better!" The younger Scrooge added, walking past her. "Give me a moment!"
"I smoked in those days." Scrooge said, frowning. "I had to save up a month for them. Taking care of the home after our parents passed. And the engraving on the tinderbox mustn't have been cheap either, with her seamstress pay..." He drooped quite a bit, "A frivolous goose... why did I say that? About her?" Scrooge stared at his sister, sat impatiently on the couch.
"I dunno." The ghost shrugged, "I'm a ghost, not a therapist."
"You can be both." Scrooge side-eyed the spirit.
"Well I only go to college once a year." The Ghost of Yuletide past said, side-eying him right back, "And usually only to be regretted the next morning."
Scrooge watched himself walk back in with the package he had prepared, wrapped in yellow paper and tied off so fancily with a real satin bow. It was special. A very special gift. Because Scrooge knew...
"This was the last Christmas we shared a home for." Scrooge said, "She'd be married by next, and pregnant too, in his home. Fred... my nephew, the year after that." Scrooge held onto his nightshirt, and stared at the hugging siblings, his sister squealing in excitement over her gift. He then turned on the spirit, hardening his sorrow into rage, "I get it! I shouldn't have been rude to Fan's Memory! Of course I love my sister. Can I go to bed now?"
"Not... quite what I was going for. But we're getting there." The ghost said, walking back to the door. They had to hop to grab onto the knob and turn it, "C'mon. Next stop... something else."
Scrooge looked at his sister one time, and wiped his cheek again before trudging out with the ghost.
"Oh. It's Fezziwig's." Scrooge said, as the sound of music and laughter suddenly flooded his ears. He needed only a glance about his surroundings to know where he was, and when he was too! The trampling of feet as people jumped and laughed back and forth to the fiddle of a goblin atop a bucket. "He ran a manufactury for toiletries. Toilet brushes and plungers and toilet paper." He said, "And he ran it into the ground." Scrooge pouted.
"Did he?"
"Yes. Is this your next ploy?" Scrooge shot his frown at the Ghost, "Oh I suppose I wasn't a good enough boss to Charity Case Cratchit, is that it? Well I'll tell you what this kind of Yuletide fun gets you, it gets you bankruptcy! There was no way I could make those books look good, no matter how hard I tried."
"You don't seem to mind it very much now." The Ghost pointed.
Following the direction, Scrooge spotted himself. A younger man, maybe late twenties, dancing with a human woman of similar age.
"Well... of course I didn't..."
"And... Mr. Fezziwig doesn't seem to be very down about it either. He's with his wife, and his friends." The Ghost looked over at the ork, large tusks, hairy and sharing his height with is wife. They were serving out little slices of cake and big mugs of coco to the guests at the factory gala.
"Employees." Scrooge corrected.
"Not tonight." The Ghost said, "C'mon, you can get there." They motioned towards themselves, "Put it together. What am I trying to show you?"
"That Fezziwig was happy even if he wasn't making that much money, and that we were happy too, with him." Scrooge shrugged, keeping a straight and stern face, "Maybe I was too hard on Cratchit, I'll admit it. I get... cold around Yuletide." Scrooge took off his hat, and patted it free of snow, "I'm sure he'll beg for his job on Darday, I'll give it back to him. Feh..."
The Ghost sighed, "You're so... generous, Scrooge." They stuck their tongue out of their mouth a bit, "When did you meet Jacob Marley?"
"Oh, shortly before this place went under. I could see which way the wind was blowing- obviously I could, I was the one handling the finances. So I made a plan to get a new Silver Guild accounting office open, and Jacob was my in." Scrooge closed his eyes, reminiscing. "Am I going to see him again?"
"No, Scrooge. You didn't spend any Yuletides with him."
"Didn't I?" Scrooge looked stunned, "No... no certainly I spent holidays with the man." His eyes were once again on himself, now dancing with Fezziwig. His laughing face as the ork bounced Scrooge around like a doll.
"Well, you... were in the same room for a few of them, I guess." The Ghost shrugged, "Hey, who was that girl you were dancing with?"
"Eugh..." Scrooge said. As he said, he was very good at seeing which way the wind was blowing, "Well I'm certain I spent quite a few fine Yuletides with Belle. We were two peas in a pod while it lasted. Are you going to show me one of those? Make me... overwhelmed with nostalgia and romance?" Scrooge turned fully to the child.
The ghost stuck their tongue out a bit, licking their upper lip, and nodded, "That's a good idea. I was gonna take you home but, let's do that first."
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Scrooge snarled.
"Unlike you, Scrooge, I get actual pleasure from my job." The Ghost motioned with their horn to the door, "Out. C'mon."
Scrooge walked out, but stopped when the Ghost didn't follow. He looked back, and caught the Ghost standing on tippie toes to grab a mug of Hot Cocoa... no, two mugs. Then they brought them back. Scrooge didn't hold out his hand. The ghost glanced at him, then held out one of the mugs, taking their gaze back to the door.
Scrooge gave it a moment's pause before taking it. And then they both left the Toiletries Factory, soon to find itself going down the drain...
They were walking the streets of Amalen now, no teleportation. Scrooge didn't mind the lack of a jarring transition, sipping the cocoa as he walked with them. "What is all of this for? You say its for my benefit, but I don't care about any of this!" Scrooge said, "Maybe I'll be a bit nicer to Charity Case Cratchit! Fine, well enough! I'll apologize to Fred, maybe... oh, I don't know. Buy him lunch. Put flowers on Fan's grave, sure." He took a sip, "But this is a lot of trouble to go through for that! And Belle... psh. I haven't seen Belle in years. I'm sure she's a fine old spinster now, what is showing one of our romantic moments going to do to me?"
The ghost rolled their eyes, "I'll make sure your complaints are noted." They stopped and turned to face another window, pointing, "There."
"Hm?" Scrooge stopped too, and walked up to the window. He wiped away a bit of frost, and gazed inside. It was a restaurant, one of the human ones. Very fancy food, not the type of thing that Scrooge ate much anymore. He preferred tavern meals, they were cheap and went down easy. He scanned across the crowd, and saw the back of his own head, as well as the face of Belle.
Belle was a beauty, but she was a lot of other things, Scrooge remembered. She was kind, thoughtful, but a bit of a smart ass. She liked to get the final word in any argument, and throw her weight around. She was bossy, but these flaws only served to make the diamond that was herself shine ever brighter. Whereas he couldn't see past the perfection of his beloved sister, or the kindliness of his old boss, he could see every rough edge and human bit of Belle that made her what she was.
And she was angry. She was glaring at him as he spoke, and she spoke back curtly.
"No. No, this... this wasn't on Yuletide, was it?" He turned his head to the Ghost.
The ghost was cringing as they stood atop another box, looking in at the window. They looked up and begrudgingly nodded.
"Oh that's awful... augh, what was the argument about...?" Scrooge took of his hat and scratched his head. "Something about... hours?"
"You were spending a lot more time with Jacob. A lot of time in the office... but that's not all." The Ghost said. They snapped their fingers, and the clattering of dishes and forks and rabble of noise filled Scrooge's ears. He was still standing without, but could hear all within.
"Do you care about anything other than money?!" Belle said, her voice was loud, but Scrooge could tell it wasn't overwhelming the restaurant.
"Of- Of course I do!" Scrooge said, "Like. You!"
"I had to pry you with a crowbar from your precious office just for this dinner! Where were you this morning, Ebeneezer?"
"In the-" The younger Scrooge stopped himself, knowing he was about to make a severe mistake.
"Yes. You were. With Jacob, I expect. That... bastard."
"Jacob's not that bad!" Scrooge said, in tandem with his younger self.
"Maybe he's not. Maybe you were always like this, Ebeneezer Scrooge." Belle said, crossing her arms, "You greedy little boggart of a man."
"How dare you!?" Scrooge said, taken aback.
The present Scrooge winced in pain at the insult.
"Oof, that's a pretty bad one, I think..." The Ghost said.
"It is..."
The argument proceeded, but ended shortly after. Belle stood, and left. Scrooge continued to eat. When the check was brought, Scrooge argued with the waiter about only eating half the meal.
The Elder turned his back on the scene, "I don't want to see this anymore, Ghost. I don't want to see this..."
"We're not done... sorry about this." The Ghost, for their part, suddenly had some amount of empathy in their voice, uncharacteristic of the snarky creature, Ebeneezer thought.
When he opened his eyes, standing in a warm living room, not dissimilar to where he saw his sister. He looked about him, and spotted an old woman knitting on a large rocking chair. He knew her at once, "Belle?" He asked. "Dear lord, she... looks healthy." He said with a false start.
The door to the humble domicile opened, and kids flooded in.
He heard sounds of cheering, squealing, and giggling, and over the hubub of noise, a very sincere smattering of 'Grandma's coming from the children. Scrooge stepped back to make way for the torrent of grandchildren as they climbed about their nana.
"Oh hohoho!" Belle said, putting her knitting down, "Down you little pests, ohohoho!" The old woman chortled a laugh from deep in her belly. It made Scrooge think of the fat women dressed as Saint Noelle they used to have in the markets around Yuletide. Belle would've given any of those impersonators a run for their money.
"Be careful, children!" An old man entered. He was thinner, greyer than Scrooge, and wore less than fine clothes. "Hello Dear."
"Bringing a bundle of presents, aren't we?" Belle said, hugging a few of the near rabid children to her stomach in her seat.
"Oh, the kids are off to a party or some such! You signed up for this when you gave birth to them, Belle Darling." The old man said, sitting down.
"Go play children, go play! You know where to go!" Belle said, "I'll be up in just a minute once I'm done with this scarf." The children pulled back, and began to flood out of the room. The motion of them falling off of Belle was reminiscent of the start of an avalanche, and the flow of spring's first rivers as they left the room.
"You won't believe who I saw in the market today!" The husband said.
"Oh, who?" Belle asked.
"Jacob Marley!" The husband laughed, "I said hello to him, and he told me to piss off!"
Scrooge burst out laughing, "That sounds like good 'ol Marley!" He smiled to himself before Belle spoke.
"Ugh, what a sour old man!" She was pouting, scowling as though she had eaten half a lemon.
"Can't blame him for being grumpy. He looked halfway through death's door." The Old man settled into his chair, comfortably adjusting himself to the warmth of the fire.
"Oh well I'm sure old Scrooge is excited. He'll get all of that business they built." Belle resumed her work, smiling. "Greedy Old Men..."
Scrooge's face, instead of hitting the peak of anger, fell into an abyss of sadness, "I was anything but... I felt terrible for the man. He was ill, but he kept coming in... I told him to take it easy, but he wouldn't listen. How could Belle say this about me? She didn't even know me now! Neither does her husband!"
"I think she knew enough. You didn't change much. You were a bit angrier... a lot more wrinkly too."
"I want to go home." Scrooge said, abruptly. He looked down at the Ghost, and then stared. The ghost was... well, they had changed. At the beginning of this miserable journey, their hair was a close to their shoulders, but now it draped fully down to their feet, and their dress was loose upon the ground, spilled out like it was five sizes too large. And their face... slightly wrinkled, puffy. He looked up at the flame atop their head, "You're melting!"
"Time melts away, Scrooge... that's what the past is for. Being away from you." The ghost turned. "I'm only showing you the facts, Scrooge. What has been. And as I have, so too have I become such a fact, melting away like the sand in an hour glass, or the length of a candle."
"But... you don't need to melt!" Scrooge said, glaring at the bright burning pale flame. With one movement of his arm, he snatched the cone- no... the snuffer, from the Ghost's hand. The ghost didn't resist.
With another swift motion, he slammed the cone down over the figure's head.
The light did not disappear. It did not snuff, instead, it seemed to glow ever brighter. The figure became shorter and shorter, shrinking under the push of Scrooge's snuffer. He grunted in pain as the heat of the ever burning flame passed through and convexed into his palm on the handle.
"One Chance, Scrooge... you cannot change the past. But you have one chance for that which is yet to come..." And with that final whisper voice, a sound without the sarcastic tone or the snark or the slight annoyance, a voice akin to an old wind or an echo... the snuffer hit the floor, and darkness filled Scrooge's bedroom.
He collapsed onto the bed, and fell asleep once again.