The light that woke up Scrooge next was not very bright at all. Instead, it passed over him with a wave of warmth that more than worked a bit of sweat from him and forced him back into the world of consciousness.

He turned his head, looking towards the source of the light, as it passed less than opaquely through his bed curtain. He opened the curtain and saw the beaming warmth and steady flickering light came from his door.

He squinted at it, and then stood. Grabbing his cane, he grunted as he felt one bare foot hit his cold floor, the other filling his slipper. Grumbling, he walked to the door and opened it.

The trek down the stairs was short, and the warmth that felt like honey in the air passed over him thicker and thicker with each downward step. For some reason, it felt good. His back ached just a bit less, and he didn't feel bothered about missing a shoe at this moment, as the floor boards themselves seemed soft and inviting under this aura of enjoyment.

Feigning a scowl, he reached the bottom of the stairs and entered his living room.

Where once there was an upturned chair and scattered gruel near a dead fireplace, there was now something entirely opposite.

The room was decorated tip to toe in holly and tinsel and ornaments a plenty. The smells of cooked goose and pig aroused the olfactory senses as much as the distant sounds of chiming and singing brought the ears to aflutter. The glinting light of the raging fire, flooded with great yule logs, glinted back and forth across the shiny baubles that decorated the great tree that stood twice the height of Scrooge. It was topped with, not an ornament nor angel, but a real flickering glittering shining star, the type one imagines when they make a wish.

Ebeneezer Scrooge could not but stare at it in wonder, his scowl melting into a shock and surprise as the thick layers of holiday cheer melted through his skin and across his bones.

"WELL HELLO THERE!" Came the jolly voice of the tree.

"AH!" Scrooge shouted, dropping his cane as he fell onto his butt.

From behind the tree stepped a figure.

He was as tall as a hill giant, more than two Scrooge's tall, and had to squat slightly to fit in the living room at all. He wore about him a great green robe with furred white lining. Atop his head was a ring of holly fitted with candles to imitate a royal crown, and round bobbles hanging from it to imitate a humorous hat.

His hair was red and long, both atop his head, in his beard, and on the bared chest that was revealed by the loose robe. The great towering giant held in one hand a great torch that glowed in a similar way to the top of the tree, but held in the broken end of a ram's horn. His bare and hairy feet could not help but rattle the walls as he waddled his way about the tree, "PRETTY GOOD, EH?"

"Uhm... it's very... tall. Very tall." Scrooge said, awe struck by the giant.

"EBENEEZER SCROOGE, STAND AND KNOW ME AS I KNOW YOU!"

Scrooge, pulling his cane towards him, did so.

"I AM THE GHOST OF YULETIDE PRESENT!" The booming voice of the giant said, "THE HERE AND NOW!"

"But Yuletide is tomorrow!... Unless it's Past Midnight, I suppose."

"YULE IS A STATE OF BEING, MY FRIEND! IT IS NOT MERELY A DAY, BUT A SPIRIT! A SPIRIT THAT, COME HELL OR HIGH WATER, I WILL IMPART UNTO YOU, MY GOOD MAN!" The Ghost reached down and poked Scrooge in the chest. "I BET YOU'VE NEVER SEEN SOMETHING LIKE ME BEFORE!" The ghost exclaimed as he turned about face. He walked back around the tree, and Scrooge followed.

The ghost sat down upon a large throne. It was a stack of food! Puddings and pies, meat strings and goose thighs! Cooked meats and salted, red meat and white, cooled off desserts and heated delights. Candy aplenty and chocolate to spare, and then the scabbard, covered in wear and tear.

Scrooge looked at the scabbard, empty of sword and left to rust. The giant's index finger poked into it, and idly tilted it about as he waited for Scrooge to respond.

"Oh-" Scrooge said, pulling his eyes away from the scabbard, "I... suppose not." Scrooge could not muster a scowl in the awe of such a great power, much as he tried. The warmth, the smells, the sound. If it was not warming his bones, then it was certainly imparting a shock...

"NO, YOU HAVEN'T! YOU HAVE NEVER WALKED AMONG MY BROTHERS! SO YOUNG AM I, AND SO PLENTY ARE THEY, AND YET I DO NOT THINK YOU HAVE WALKED WITH THEM IN SOME TIME." He shook his head, sighing, "WHAT TO DO..."

Scrooge stood up straight. He straightened his features. Even if he could not manage ire for this creature, this giant, then he would at least appear respectable... as respectable as you can be wearing one slipper, a slightly torn nightshirt, and a nightcap with a poof on the end. "Conduct me where you will spirit! But I promise you, I shall not gain from this experience. As I told the last, who tried to fool and guilt me."

"MMMM..." The Giant said, "YOU REALLY DON'T GET IT YET. NO. BUT I THINK I KNOW WHAT WILL HELP! HERE, GRAB UPON MY SLEEVE, AND I SHALL TAKE YOU WHERE I MEAN TO GO!" He held out his arm, his loose sleeve's white fur stopping before Scrooge.

Scrooge took a handful of it.

"NOW HANG ON TIGHT!" The Ghost of Yuletide Present announced. He stood, lifting Scrooge (who desperately held on with all the icy grip his fists could muster) and ran directly into a wall.

Scrooge let out a scream and clenched his eyes shut, and felt no change save the warmth retreating, and cold approaching? The cold of death perhaps? No. Snow.

He landed in it and coughed after pushing himself up.

"I TOLD YOU TO HOLD ON TIGHT! DIDN'T I?" The Giant asked, now standing free and tall in the midst of the market place.

Oh, and the market place! The market place! Yuletide was not a day of rest for many, but a day of feasting and friendship, and so many stalls stayed open the morning through before their runners were off to enjoy parties and celebrations. Children, freed of their daily learning for this special day, ran to and fro between stalls!

It was just as the giant's throne, sausages and pies and sweets and meats, strewn up and about and sold for less than worth on promises and kind words between patron and seller. You'd think a city, so urban and grand as Amalen, would not share such perfunctory hospitality betwixt strangers, but the mood among the stalls was light. It fluttered with the spirits of Yuletide. Though the warmth of the fire was gone, the ambiance, thick like honey in the air, still heated the soul.

"Good lord." Scrooge said, "And Cratchit wants the whole day off! Bah, humbug!" He said, glaring about. "This is what I like to see. Business being done, deals being made! And so kindly too." Scrooge couldn't help but smile, as awe drained but was left with the warmth. However, he switched to a surprised frown when he saw the annoyed look on the Giant. Rarely do you want to see a creature so big upset in any capacity.

"THEY'RE WORKING TOWARDS YULE! ALL OF THIS EFFORT IS TO HELP THEIR FELLOW MAN! THE DEALS BEING MADE AREN'T FOR MONEY GRUBBERS LIKE YOU, THEY'RE IN THE SPIRIT OF THE SEASON! THOSE WHO HAVE LESS BEING GIVEN MORE. SWEET BREADS AND GLAZED HAMS... MMM..." The giant stared at a food stand, losing his train of thought as he rubbed his stomach.

"Are we just here to pick up your midnight snack, you fat hill giant?"

"OVER THERE! ISN'T THAT BOB?" He pointed past Scrooge to change the subject.

Scrooge looked, and saw that Bob was indeed heading through the market. He held a bundle of potatoes in his arms, and had to turn his head around the sack to see where he was going.

"That's a lot of potatoes." Scrooge mused. "I thought Yuletide Dinners needed... gooses and, and... carrots. He's a rabbit, they eat carrots, right?"

"CABBAGE IS MORE COMMON." The Ghost of Yuletide said, "CARROTS ARE RATHER SUGARY..." He reached up and pulled from the horn of plenty, so shiny with its star, a carrot. Which he bit down on. "BUT POTATOES ARE CHEAPER!"

"Oh." Scrooge stared at Bob as he passed back into the crowd, then crossed his arms, "Just... potatoes?"

"THEY HAD OTHER THINGS, BUT SOMEHOW, EMILY BURNED THEM. SHE BURNED A SALAD! THAT'S PRETTY FUNNY, I THINK."

"Who's Emily." Scrooge said, before he could think better of it.

"ARE YOU KIDDING?"

"Uhm. No?" Scrooge muttered.

"BOB'S WIFE, MAN!" The Hill Giant poked him in the stomach, knocking Scrooge back a few steps, "SHE TRIED TO MAKE DINNER, BUT FAILED, SO HE HAD TO PICK SOMETHING ELSE UP! ALL HE COULD AFFORD WAS A BUNDLE OF POTATOES! NOT EVEN A FLAN, OR A PUDDING CAKE OR... OR A DELICIOUS CINNAMON PIE... OR..."

"Well that's not my fault!" Scrooge said, motioning at himself, "I pay Bob a fine enough wage! It's standard for-"

"ENTRY LEVEL CLERKS. HE'S BEEN WORKING FOR YOU FOR FIVE YEARS, SCROOGE! MAYBE YOU ARE NOT DIRECTLY RESPONSIBLE FOR BOB'S FINANCIALS, BUT IT'S YOUR TIGHT FIST THAT LEADS TO HIS TIGHT STOMACH, REGARDLESS."

There was then, a distant ringing of a bell. The chime hit the hour with succinct power, spreading its noise across the whole of the city's skyline.

People began to move, as much as a crowd could move in any one direction, towards the source of the sound.

"WHEN DID YOU LAST GO TO CHURCH, MY GOOD MAN?" The Giant asked.

"Oooh... uhm... couldn't have been this century, I'm certain." Scrooge stammered, curling in on himself.

"THEN IT'S A PERFECT TIME TO GIVE IT ANOTHER SHOT!" The Giant said, and walked on with the crowd. His strides were long, and Scrooge had to hobble quickly to keep up. Yet, despite the speed difference, never did the Ghost leave Scrooge's side.

Around the street paths, down the great bridge, and up the cobbled roads that stretched up the great cliff that led to the greatest temple in all of Amalen. The towering building was a pearlescent, with shimmering bells atop its lone facade. The hunchback working the bells jumped and pulled on their ropes once more to alert the stretches of the city that the time for prayer had come. Then he went off for breakfast.

"Bah, humbug!" Scrooge said, overcome not with awe, but with suspicion, "They beg that I give, that I be 'charitable' and in the meantime, what do they do? They build facades such as this!" Scrooge motioned to the great church, "Feh! Is Aude so great that she needs her subjects to build such expensive monuments to her to remember it? And then demand that we in turn pay for it? Bah, humbug! Humbug to the whole religion, I say!"

"I'M NOT HERE TO CONVERT YOU, MY GOOD MAN." The Ghost said, "BUT YOU ARE NOT WRONG. IT IS TRUE, MUCH SILVER AND GOLD HAD TO BE EXPENDED TO DO A GREAT WORK SUCH AS THIS! YET DID IT NOT GIVE THE MEN WHO BUILT IT JOBS? AND DOES IT NOT NOW HOUSE THE SICK, THE POOR, THE NEEDFUL? AND ON WHO'S DIME SHOULD AUDE DEPEND? HERS, OR HER PEOPLE'S?"

"Her own. She's a god, isn't she?"

"YOU MISUNDERSTAND THE POINT, SCROOGE." And then the Giant stepped through the wall. While, most often, this would lead to a large Ghost of Yuletide Present hole in the wall, it left no trace.

Scrooge did not wait and ponder. He pressed his own hand to the side of the building, and felt it had the texture of fog. He found no difficulty in passing through and into a large room of beds and other great furniture, such as a feasting area where many persons ate.

The Ghost was once again hunched down quite a lot, having to waddle his feet. And even then, he was half through many of the structures and furniture, not to mention the shians that passed through him.

As Scrooge watched the homeless and the shabby, the sick and the ill-repute eating bowls of stew, he could also see that there were those of poor temperament. Yet as they ate, the Ghost held aloft his torch and sprinkled its star dust into their meal. And replacing their mood was a smile and a good word for their neighbor.

"THE DONATIONS GIVEN TO THIS TEMPLE FEED THE POOR, HELP THE SICK! THERE ARE PEOPLE WHO WANT TO HELP OTHERS, THOUGH I KNOW THIS MAY BE A CONFUSING CONCEPT TO YOU, MY GOOD MAN!" The spirit said, smiling down at Scrooge with as broad a tooth grin as he could manage.

"Greed is the commonality of man." Scrooge said, "And hob." He added, remembering himself.

"PERHAPS! BUT NOT HERE. NOT NOW. AND NOT NECESSARILY." The spirit spoke. "THERE ARE MANY MEN IN MANY PLACES WHO ABUSE, WHO MISE, WHO STEAL. THERE ARE CHURCHES WHO DO NO GOOD, EVEN IF GIVEN MUCH. BUT SHOULD YOU FIND THOSE PLACES, YOU WILL BE HARD PRESSED NOT TO FIND THOSE PLACES OF TRUE GOOD WILL! WHETHER SPONSORED BY A GOD, OR SPONSORED BY A MORTAL, THERE WILL BE CHARITY, THERE WILL BE KINDNESS! IF IT WAS NOT HERE, IT WOULD BE ELSEWHERE IN THE CITY! AND MANY PLACES I CAN THINK PERFORM THESE DEEDS. THE ORPHANAGES, THE HOSPICES, THE SOUP LINES, AND ALL THREE ARE HOUSED HERE. SUCH IS THE NEED FOR A BIG BUILDING, SCROOGE!"

"Pray, what are you doing to their meals? Sprinkling your fire there?" Scrooge pointed as the spirit repeated the process.

"I ADD MY SPIRIT TO THEIR MEALS! FOR FOOD AND WARMTH IS HARD TO COME BY IN THIS WORLD, AND SHOULD NOT BE WASTED IN MISERY!"

"You add this often to meals?"

"TO POOR ONES, MOSTLY." The spirit said.

"Poor ones?"

"MOST NEEDFUL!" He said, "ALTHOUGH, WITH THE FEASTS THAT YOUR MONEY BUY YOU, YOU PROBABLY HAVE WORSE DINNERS THAN ANY OF THESE POOR FOLK. THESE ILL FOLK. THOSE TAKEN CARE OF BY THE YOUNG WOMEN OF THIS CLERGY. LIKE THAT YOUNG SHIAN YOU SHOUTED AT YESTERDAY!" He pointed at Ina, the young punchinellete who was assisting an old, hobbly man, to eat.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

"Mmm..." Scrooge said, "She's seems... a nice girl. Perhaps I was too curt with her." Scrooge pondered. He glanced at the Giant, who had a beckoning expression. "Nngh..." He grumbled.

"LET'S GO ELSEWHERE, SCROOGE!" He reached over and tapped his finger to a door. The door glowed about the edges. Instead of entering into it, the Ghost beckoned for Scrooge to pass through. Scrooge did so, opening the portal and stepping through to another locale entirely!

Now he stood in the small foyer of a small house with a short roof. If he stood on tip-toes, he could likely drag his bald head across the ceiling. What a tidy place it was, with a shabby rug where one may rub their feet, a space for shoes to be put away. It led off to a small living room with a loveseat and a short stack of books, a hearth well lit as well. And the smells of burnt cabbage wafted the air, streaming from what Scrooge assumed was a kitchen beside a staircase.

"I DEFINITELY CAN'T FIT IN THERE!" The spirit shouted from beyond the door. "JUST TELL ME WHAT YOU SEE AND I'LL TRY TO GIVE YOU A LESSON ABOUT IT! I'LL WAIT HERE." Then, after some consideration, "AND SEE IF YOU CAN'T FIND A POTATO OR TWO FOR ME, RIGHT?"

Scrooge passed through the dining room and into the next room beyond it. Through the doorway, he saw a goblin busying herself back and forth across a kitchen. "Oh. Mrs. Cratchit, I expect." Scrooge sneered, watching the goblin dally about. She seemed preoccupied, and would, every minute or so, crack a peek into the oven to see about the potatoes being baked. She looked disconcerted and worried over them. Scrooge noticed scorched cabbage piled into a bowl with a cover of a rag.

The kitchen was quite small, though Scrooge considered that for people of Cratchit's size, it was simply modest. A single stove and a basin for washing dishes in. At least they had plumbing. And a cold box, and enough snow out the window to keep it cold for ten years, perhaps! Scrooge poked his head into the cold box out of curosity, quite literally given his assumed intangibility, and found a chilled cream pie being contained. He smiled at it and pulled back.

"SCROOGE! SOMETHING'S HAPPENING! COME BACK OVER HERE AND HAVE REVELATIONS PLEASE!" Shouted the Ghost of Christmas Present, and Scrooge did now notice that Emily Cratchit had left the kitchen.

Scrooge walked out into the dining room, and saw the wife coming up to meet her husband.

There was Bob, good 'ol Bob, and atop his shoulders rode a child. Half the size, though perhaps less even, of his parents. The boy had greenish skin, and long ears with fluff. Fluff down his arms as well, and a poofy ball bunny tail at the end. Scrooge chewed the inside of his cheek as he watched the reunion.

"Welcome home, Dear! Not too cold out, Tim?"

Tiny Tim, sat atop his father's back shook his head, "No mama! It was very nice! The sun was out, and we went up to the Church and I saw Missus Suraah and Mel and Mal!" The boy leaned forward, forcing his father to bend at the waist, "And they gave me a slice of a cinnamon bun, mama! It had glaze and everything!"

"That's so nice of them, you were sure to give tide, yes?" Emily said, leaning forward as well and turning up her head to her son.

"Yes mama!" Tim said, "I gave a penny! And I prayed to the Saints too!"

"When should dinner be ready, dear?" Bob asked.

"Oh it's about as ready as it'll be!" Emily smiled, "You two can go wash up and get warm while I plate it!" She kissed Bob and then kissed the forehead of her son.

"Yes mama!" Tim said as Bob turned and carried the boy out of the room.

Scrooge followed for a bit, but stopped in the foyer as the two went upstairs.

"I KNOW WHAT YOU'RE THINKING, SCROOGE!"

"Oh, do you?"

"YES. BOB TOLD YOU MANY MANY TIMES ABOUT HIS SON, TINY TIM!" The ghost said.

"Well I never listened!" Scrooge said, turning harshly and motioning at himself, "I'm a busy man!... Why Tiny?"

"THAT'S WHAT HIS FRIENDS CALL HIM. I THINK IT'S A BIT CUTE!"

"That kid is sickeningly cute! But it's none of my business." Scrooge said as Bob made his way down the stairs. Behind him came Tiny Tim.

Tiny Tim hobbled down the stairs, he used two crutches to help hold up his thin and emaciated legs as he made his way down the steps. Scrooge watched as the boy made it to the bottom a good while after Bob had stopped to wait for him. Then the two entered into the kitchen.

Tiny Tim pushed himself into a chair and lent his crutches against the legs of it. The table had already been nicely set with what Scrooge knew was a cheaper tablecloth, and placed about it were a platter of potatoes. Plated and baked with a bit of sour cream in them, just a dollop or so. And the pie to be saved for last, left to relax at the center.

The family took each other's hands in prayer, as Bob said.

"Thank you Aude, for your generosity in giving us our daily bread and... potato." Bob had opened an eye to glance at the plate in front of him before closing it. Emily's smile faltered very slightly. "May you bless Pete Wilkins, who so graciously discounted our meal for his friends. May you bless Paris, who gave as a gift our surely delicious pie. May you bless Ina Suraah and her sisters for their generosity and kindness. And may you bless-- ehm... S... Mr. Sc..." Bob opened his eye and looked over at Emily, who didn't notice.

"Aude bless us, every one!" Timothy finished before Bob could bring hellfire to the table with the mention of his boss's name. Emily smiled a delicate smile as she opened her eyes, staring at Bob.

Scrooge frowned, "Bob wanted to bless me... I fired the man just yesterday, and he still wanted to wish me blessing. I didn't think he cared about me at all..."

"BOB CARES ABOUT EVERYONE, SCROOGE! IT'S HIS GREATEST FAULT, TO BE SURE."

Scrooge watched the humble family meal. Conversation withheld as the three ate. He then looked Tiny Tim closer, "Is the boy a cripple?"

"HE HAS CANCER, SCROOGE!"

The giant gasped as his mustache's hairs were gripped and yanked on, Scrooge bringing himself face to nose with the giant as he glared into his eyes, "What?!" Scrooge shouted.

"HE HAS BONE CANCER, IN HIS LEGS! THE TREATMENT IS A BIT... EXPENSIVE."

"What?!" Scrooge said, loosening his grip, "He'll- He'll be alright, won't he!? The- The healers at the Church, the doctors and- and priestesses and such! They have magic for it! Don't they?"

"ILLNESS IS NOT INJURY. IT TAKES TIME, WORK, INTELLECT, AND... IT DOESN'T ALWAYS WORK."

"But he's- he's just a child!"

"EXACTLY WHY IT TAKES SUCH A TOLL, SCROOGE." The Ghost peered, now with some malice, "OF COURSE. THERE ARE THOSE SMALL 'FARMS' YOU MENTIONED LAST MORNING. HE COULD WORK THERE! OR, PERHAPS HIM DYING WOULD BE BETTER. BETTER WITHOUT BUMS, GOOD FOR THE ECONOMY, THAT'S WHAT YOU SAID, ISN'T IT?"

Scrooge miserably trudged back into Cratchit's home. He felt no longer welcome, no longer proper. He felt as though he were intruding on a place that did not want him, and abhor'd him. Not out of a true directed malice, but because he had so wronged it. He entered the dining room.

Scrooge eyed the meal, and picked up one of the potatoes. His hand, surprisingly, didn't pass through it. He frowned, and peeled back its skin before taking a bite. He was eating dinner with Bob Cratchit. His eyes clenched as tears began to well and stream down his face. He mumbled his thanks around the potato.

"COME ALONG, SCROOGE. YOU HAVE FAMILY TOO, YOU KNOW?"

"I do...?" Scrooge asked, mouth still full as he walked back to the ghost, and left the room. He stepped out into the sudden fall of evening, the sun already set and the shine of the great band of light across the sky giving little direction. Instead, he followed the twinkling of the star that headed the Giant's great torch. The giant spackled it home to home as he passed, where lanterns and lamps were on and keeping the night's festivals warm and happy.

There was a house that they reached, which had Scrooge stop in his tracks, "Oh... Fred's. Fred's, right." Scrooge said, and with sudden vigor, he walked through the door. The giant followed, squeezing in on hands and knees.

Scrooge entered into a room filled with chatter and warmth. It appeared before the feasting, games and dances were being played among miscellaneous conversation. He saw many men and women he did not recognize, no doubt some of Fred Scrooge's many acquaintances, perhaps some business partners too? He walked among them, smiling as sorrows melted away. His cane led him forth, and finally, entering into the dining room, he found Fred.

Fred was talking to his wife, "Haha! And he said- He said, 'Humbug' to Yuletide! As I live and breathe, I swear it! And that's not the first time he's said it either."

Scrooge entered a pallor of a frown hearing that they too had his name in their mouths.

Fred, regardless, was a font of affability. A certain kind of spilling of cheerfulness unknown to Scrooge since the death of Fred's mother, poured forth for his darling and beautiful hob wife, who busied herself setting the table.

Should you know a man who's laugh is as boisterous and entertaining as that of the son of Fanny Scrooge, then you may just be parlay to a Hyena or some extraordinarily exotic bird. His laugh, individually, rang out as he giggled at the thought. "Ooh, Scrooge!" Fred said, but the way he said it was queer. It did not have the distaste Scrooge expected... his wife on the other hand.

"Well humbug to him then!" Clara Scrooge said, putting down a plate, "That foolish old man. Why do you bother with him every year, Fred?"

"Uncle?" Fred said, turning as his wife walked about him, "Because he's- Well, he's my uncle! He's a comical old fellow, and only really a curse upon himself. If I could get him to... open up, then- well-"

"He's rich beyond measure." Clara glared, "And all he gives us is loans."

"Rich, maybe." Fred admitted, "But he doesn't do anything with it. I've seen his home, it's a shell! He eats gruel! He acts more impoverished than a hobo! Haha haha!" Fred followed his wife around the table. "And I'm certain he doesn't find much satisfaction thinking of where that money will go when he passes, with how fervently he denies my invitations."

"Surely not. Maybe he'll have it buried with him. You shouldn't bother with family like that."

Fred sighed, "I feel sorry for the man." He said, his laugh fading with his smile, "He digs his own grave and gets angry when someone tries to take the shovel. He wasn't always like that, I'm certain of it. He is the one who suffers from his ill whims, and if he deigns to dislike me, then that is fine, but I will not let up!"

"Fred. Fred! I wanted to say-!" Scrooge erupted, reaching towards his nephew. But his nephew passed through him, the substance of fog.

The Ghost of Yuletide Present was there, then, sat down in the dining room with his knees pulled up to his chest. "THEY CAN'T SEE YOU SCROOGE!"

Scrooge watched the two leave the kitchen, "I know." He muttered, frowning. He entered back into the living room, where the conversation had apparently expanded.

"What say you, Topper m'boy?" Fred said, patting a young goblin man on the back, "Think my uncle will be missing out on a fine dinner?"

One of Clara Scrooge's sister had drawn the eye of the young lad named Topper, and in deference he said, "If it's a meal prepped by Clara and her sisters, then certainly he's missing out on something very fine, for certain!"

"It's as I was saying," Fred began, "My dear Uncle Ebeneezer may rail against Yule until the day he dies, for it is his hand by all his woes are created! What does he miss by telling me off year after year but moments with possible friends and a fine meal? He is the one harmed, not I! And so, each year, I will again and again visit him and say 'How do you do, Uncle'? Whether he thinks me edging for his will or not, I don't care. If my pressure even moves him to leave a few dollars to that munchkin clerk of his, then all the better. I think I really hit a chord last night... certainly he's stewing in his own regret now." Fred said, a frown overcoming him.

"I am!" Scrooge shouted, "I'm sorry, Fred! I'm sorry, Fanny! I wish I could take my words back..." Scrooge fell into a chair, but his emotional state did not allow him to be surprised by its solidity against his rump.

Scrooge eventually pulled himself from sorrow and tears and found the seat warm and comfortable. He watched the party play on for an hour, where the group would play games and tell stories.

Scrooge had to laugh, certain during a game of Blind Man's Bluff. If you ask me, I think it was a set up between Fred and that young gob Topper! It was suspicious how the lad, despite being blindfolded, continued to run into that sister of Clara who he was eyeing earlier, a problem that seemed to affect not a single other person who donned the blindfold handed to them ONLY by Fred! Whether Fred palmed the farcical or not I will not say, for I would wish not to spread libel on a good man's name.

Topper feigned the seizing of other people as they bumped into him, but would knock over pillow and stand to make his way to the plump young hobgoblin that he was intent on courting indelicately.

I'm certain the young woman knew this too, and likely shared her opinion of it when the blindfold had been passed on, and the two spent some time together behind a curtain.

Nobody sat in Scrooge's chair, despite him ostensibly not being sat in it himself, and so he allowed himself to join silently in their games of twenty questions and other conversational topics, exclaiming answers that were often correct and laughing at rude jokes and slights between friends. At least twenty people were visiting for the meal, and Scrooge would pretend just in that moment, that there were at least twenty one.

The game of questions had evolved to a new stage, where Clara smirked at her husband before describing the creature through yes and no answers. It was a wily sort, and a mean sort, and a raggled sort, and an old sort. It was not a wolf, it was not a bear, it was not a dragon though Clara had to commiserate on that one, leading the questions even further down lines of lizard.

When the twenty question limit had reached, Clara leaned towards her husband and giggled as she said, "It is your Uncle Scrooge!"

There were mild complaints about how the answer of Bear and Dragon should have accurately been a 'yes', but laughter abounded. And, despite himself, Scrooge was laughing as well! Who was this man? Wiley, Mean, Raggled, Old? Who was this being not a wolf, but perhaps a bear or a dragon? Draconic? Not Ebeneezer Scrooge, he was parlay to none of the sort anymore.

"Come now, darling! Let's not leave a taste like that!" Fred took his glass of wine and raised it, "To Uncle Scrooge! Be him bear or dragon, mean or raggled, he is my uncle! May he live long, and to his health! Aude bless the man!"

And among the party, who had enjoyed the game so much, raised their glasses as well, "To Scrooge!"

When dinner finally been readied, and was presented on the table. So too did Scrooge stand and join, though there was no seat for him. He instead stood near Fred, and restrained himself from attempting to put his hand on the man's shoulder, lest he fall through the very table itself!

"Aude bless us..." Scrooge mumbled as their prayer finished. He noted that Fred, despite everything, despite what he had said, did pray for Scrooge's health, though thankfully not his wealth.

"ALRIGHT, SCROOGE! I HAVE A LITTLE MORE TO SHOW YOU!" Spoke the Giant, who's voice drew Scrooge out the dining room, out of the living room, out of the foyer, and back into the snow. In the glowing and twinkling light of the Ghost's torch, Scrooge could see the reflection of silver hairs, braided in among the red wilds that made up the spirit's face. He could make out the wrinkles, and most specifically, smile lines that had grown as worn and deep as a canyon.

Scrooge, having picked up a tablespoon of politeness in his life, deigned not to mention it.

He followed the Giant.

Across swathes of land, across blackened seas, across night itself. What felt like a hundred life times spread itself across but an evening of travel.

They landed in Iron Mines where the deep miner folk shared special brandies and treats in their work homes. They found their way into other family's feasting, both that of the poorest child to the highest and wealthiest of emperors! Across the continent they traveled, seeing winter in its effects! Where there was temperate jungles, even there were people who cooked and feasted in the coldest time of the year. Where there were deserts, so too followed the religion that often passed on the Yuletide spirit, and spread beyond!

Where the tribes were, where city walls were a curse and family was everything, he saw the great feasts shared by many gathered folk from across the plains, of so many species. Where there were villages and kingdoms, so too was warmth and welcome displayed.

Across the seas, where boats ravaged and waved in dark waters, beat back by scheduling into taking sailors from their homes during such a night, even there did Scrooge see fellow humanity among many different people, eating and drinking and talking and laughing. And so did spread from each person, from the poor to the rich to the tribal to the polis to the seas to the mines, the sprinkling of the star light that glittered so brightly atop the Giant's torch.

And thus, they stopped, standing before Scrooge's house. He saw himself, walking up the path, unlocking the door, and entering. It closed with a slam.

He turned to the spirit, and saw that where red hair once was, now gray and silver remained. His robes were shabbier, dirtier, world worn, and his torch dimmed to a dull red.

"You're dying. You are the Yuletide Present, and when Yuletide ends... you die." Scrooge mused.

"GOT IT IN ONE, SCROOGE!" Said the giant, who's smile was still as warm as it was when Scrooge first saw him before he had seen what he had seen. "EACH SUNRISE I COME ALIVE, EACH SUNSET I END. I AM THE DAY, AND THE PRESENT. BUT THAT IS ALL I CAN GIVE AS GIFT. FROM NOW ON, YOU MUST SEE THAT WHICH IS YET TO COME..."

"Must I?" Scrooge muttered, looking about himself at the dark city.

"I tell you now..." The ghost said, his voice becoming hoarse as he leaned forward, "There is two sins of man, two sins that I find most wretched... it is Ignorance and Want..." He coughed as the midnight bell struck, "Ignorance and Want have cursed you, Scrooge. Their claws dug deep... see them here, at my feet!" The man yanked upon his robe, and revealed two children.

They were not human, certainly not. They were barely goblins, they were boggarts. Nilbogs of the worst sort, with ragged teeth and bloodshot eyes and evil in their hot blood. Scrooge strained not to look at them. The devilish eyes as the claws dug into the flesh of the ghost, drawing blood from the wounds.

Something had changed though, he was no longer outside his home, but surrounded by darkness, and the beating of that bell became louder and louder! It struck each toll, each hour with more force than the last. Eight, Nine-

"BEWARE THEM SCROOGE!" The ghost said, dropping his cloak.

Ten, Eleven...

"One... chance... Scrooge. Only one chance..." The Ghost of Christmas Present, and the creatures that clung to him like parasites, that used his spirit to fuel their evil, disappeared into the darkness.

Scrooge stumbled over his one slippered foot, and dropped his cane just as the final bell toll struck.