Disney's a Christmas Carol Page 3

  Quickly, the street and sky filled with more spirits like these, millions of condemned souls shrieking in agony. Their cries rattled Scrooge, and he clamped his hands over his ears in a desperate attempt to block out the dreadful noise.

  Suddenly, a horrible, half-rotted phantom flew right toward him, screaming all the way. Scrooge lunged backward and toppled out of his chair, crashing down onto the floor.

  He scurried across the room and dived into his bed, pulling the blanket up over his head, wishing that he might suddenly awake and learn it had all only been a dream.

  Scrooge cowered beneath his blanket until he lapsed into a cold and fearful sleep. When he finally snapped awake, he had no sense of the time or of how long he’d been asleep. His ferretlike eyes darted back and forth, and he was too frightened to open the curtains that surrounded his bed.

  “Was it a dream?” he whispered to himself.

  The silence was broken by a riotous clang coming from a nearby church bell. If this sound was supposed to be at all musical, it was not. For Scrooge it was terrifying. He prayed silently, hoping the bell would strike at least one more time, but it did not. That meant it was one o’clock, the time Marley had informed him that the first spirit would arrive.

  Scrooge pulled the covers up to his chin and pressed his bony body back against the headboard of his bed as he braced himself for what might happen.

  Suddenly, his bed curtains flew open and a blinding light flooded the room. Scrooge held his hands up in front of his face, shielding his eyes from the light. After a few moments, his eyes adjusted enough for him to see.

  He was face to face with a shaft of hot white light. The beam was large and focused and came from below his bed. It swept across the room as if somehow there were a giant lighthouse hidden below him.

  Scrooge rattled in fear. He wanted to disappear and avoid all of this. But Marley said that Scrooge needed to face these spirits if he wanted any hope of avoiding a miserable existence in which he dragged the chains of his life for all eternity. After a long moment, he summoned enough courage to peek over the edge of the mattress, and there he saw another ghostly apparition.

  Unlike Marley’s ghost, this spirit did not remind Scrooge of anyone he had known. He had the shape of a child but the features of a very old man. He had long, silvery white hair but not a single wrinkle or age spot on his face. The specter wore a pure white tunic tied with a shimmering belt.

  The strangest and most unnerving thing about the creature to Ebenezer was the pulsing light that sat upon his head like the flame that flickered atop a candle. Under his arm he carried a large gold cap that looked as if it were designed to put out candles.

  “Are you the spirit whose coming was foretold to me?” Scrooge asked.

  “I am,” the ghost said as a sprig of holly magically appeared in his hand.

  “Who and what are you?” Scrooge asked.

  “I am the Ghost of Christmas Past,” he answered.

  “Long past?”

  “Your past,” the ghost said as he reached for Scrooge and took him strong by the arm.

  “Rise,” the ghost said. “Walk with me!”

  Scrooge, still in his slippers, nightgown, and nightcap, suddenly started floating in the air above the bed. The ghost tilted his head and shone his beam on the far wall. The light started to flicker, blinking faster and faster, like a movie projector, until images began to appear.

  Scrooge and the ghost floated through the window, but when they got outside they were not hovering above Lime Street late at night. They were in an altogether different time and place, flying through a land that seemed to be projected from the light atop the spirit.

  “Good heaven!” Scrooge said as he looked down over the snow-covered country road. “I was bred in this place. I was a boy here.”

  The spirit gently touched Scrooge’s arm. “Your lip is trembling,” he said. “And what is that upon your cheek?”

  Scrooge quickly wiped away a tear. “Nothing,” he muttered, embarrassed at his show of emotion. “Something in my eye.”

  “Do you remember the way?” the specter asked.

  Scrooge couldn’t help but smile. “Remember? I could walk it blindfolded.”

  Scrooge and the spirit continued to float over the quiet road until they came to rest in the center of the town.

  Scrooge was startled by the noise of three boys riding toward them on horseback. He went to get out of the way, but the ghost gave him a reassuring pat on the arm.

  “These are but shadows of the things that have been,” said the ghost. “They have no consciousness of us.”

  The boys raced right past Scrooge, completely unaware of him. Soon another group of boys appeared riding in a country wagon driven by a farmer. These boys shouted and sang as they waved handmade banners announcing going home and merry christmas.

  “Here we come a wassailing,” they sang joyously as they rode past.

  “I know them,” Ebenezer said, his eyes brightening at the memory. “I know every one of them. They were schoolmates of mine.”

  “Let’s go on,” the ghost said with a kindly smile. The images from his light continued to project until they arrived at an old, redbrick schoolhouse.

  “This was my school,” Scrooge said with a sniffle.

  “This school is not quite deserted. A solitary child, neglected by his friends, is left here,” said the ghost.

  Scrooge had to fight the urge to cry. “I know.”

  Scrooge and the spirit floated through the walls and along the empty halls of the old building until they came to a long, narrow classroom.

  Alone in the classroom was young Ebenezer Scrooge, only seven years old. As he looked out the window at the falling snow, the young Scrooge sang in an angelic voice:

  Adeste, fideles—

  Laeti triumphantes—

  Venite, venite in Bethlehem—

  As he watched himself as a young boy, he thought back to another young boy he had snapped at, and tears began to well up in Scrooge’s eyes. “Poor boy,” he said, wiping the tears with the cuff of his nightgown. “It’s too late now.”

  “What’s the matter?” asked the spirit.

  “Nothing,” Scrooge said. “There was a boy singing a Christmas carol at my door last night. I should have liked to have given him something.”

  The spirit nodded. “Let us see another room.” With a wave of his hand the classroom began to crumble in front of them. The wood from the walls splintered, the windows cracked, and chunks of plaster fell from the ceiling. When the dust settled, they were in the same room, only ten years later.

  The young Scrooge faded into the darkness, and in his place a different Ebenezer Scrooge stepped forward. This Scrooge was seventeen years old. Despite his youth, he still had the same distinctive nose and neck of the old man. He walked through the school desks with a downcast look about him.

  Suddenly, a little girl rushed into the room, threw her arms around the teenage Scrooge, and gave him a big kiss. It was Ebenezer’s sister, Fan, only six years old at the time.

  “Dear brother,” Fan called out. “I’ve come to bring you home.”

  “Home?” the boy said, trying not to get too excited.

  “Yes, home,” she replied. “Father is so much kinder than he used to be. He spoke so gently to me one night. I was not afraid to ask him if you might come home. And he said yes!”

  Young Scrooge looked down and smiled at his sister.

  “He sent me in a coach to bring you,” Fan continued. “We’re to be together all the Christmas long. And have the merriest time in all the world.”

  The teenager knelt down and touched the cheek of his sister. “You are quite a woman,” he said with a smile.

  Little Fan stood on her tiptoes and gave her brother a hug.

  The old Scrooge watched from above, touched by the memory. “She had a soft heart,” he said quietly.

  The ghost nodded, and the two of them started to drift backward, away from the children. />
  “She died a woman,” the ghost said. “And had children.”

  “One child,” Scrooge said with a nod.

  “True,” replied the spirit. “Your nephew.”

  “Yes,” Scrooge said, suddenly feeling guilty about the way he had treated his nephew, Fred, when the young man came to visit him at his countinghouse.

  While Scrooge considered this, the ghost changed direction, and with his flickering beam took Scrooge away from the countryside of his youth and to London.

  They flew over a busy thoroughfare crowded with carts, coaches, and pedestrians. Everything was decorated for Christmas, and the two of them came to a stop outside a warehouse. Shafts of warm amber light came through the windows from within. There was a name painted above the door, and the sight of it brought a smile to Scrooge’s face.

  It said Fezziwig.

  “Do you know this place?” asked the Ghost of Christmas Past.

  “Know it?” Scrooge answered, his jaw dropping. “I was an apprentice here.”

  The image in front of them shifted, and they instantly found themselves inside the warehouse. There they saw a jolly old man sitting at a ridiculously tall desk.

  “Why it’s old Fezziwig,” Scrooge shouted with glee. “Bless his heart. It’s Fezziwig, alive again!”

  The clock on the wall struck seven. Fezziwig put down his pen and called out, “Yo-ho, there. Ebenezer! Dick!”

  Two young men dashed into the room. One was Ebenezer Scrooge, when he was twenty-seven years old. Unlike his future self, this Scrooge was filled with happiness and wore a big smile. The other was his fellow apprentice, Dick Wilkins.

  “There he is,” the older Scrooge shouted at the vision of his old friend. He turned to the Ghost of Christmas Past and continued. “Dick Wilkins. He was very attached to me.”

  Scrooge watched and laughed as fat old Fezziwig leaped from his high desk, flipped over, and landed on the floor, tumbling into a perfect roll.

  “Yo-ho, my boys,” Fezziwig boomed. “No more work tonight! Christmas Eve! Clear away, my lads, and let’s have lots of room here.”

  The younger Scrooge and his friend Wilkins pushed a table out of the way as Fezziwig started clapping and singing a song.

  The ghost continued to project the image, and time quickly sped up. As it did, the warehouse was suddenly decorated like a giant ballroom. Christmas greens hung from the ceiling, a fire roared in the fireplace, and long tables were covered with food.

  Dozens of young men and women dressed in their holiday finest danced and twirled to the music being played by a fiddler perched high on Fezziwig’s lofty desk. No one, however, danced with as much happiness and enthusiasm as Fezziwig and his wife. They were kind and generous people, and the Christmas spirit filled them with happiness and joy.

  Finally, the fiddler came to the end of the song and stopped to catch his breath.

  “Well done, well done,” Fezziwig called as the room roared with applause.

  Fezziwig was exhausted from his celebrating and downed a cup of punch in a single gulp. “And now, kind fiddler,” he said as he caught his breath. “If you please, it’s time for ‘Sir Roger de Coverly.’”

  Fezziwig’s request was greeted with a cheer from the others, and the fiddler took one last deep breath and started playing the fast song.

  Old Scrooge was looking back at it all when suddenly the ghost moved the scene so that they were now close to a young couple dancing. It was Ebenezer and a pretty young woman named Belle.

  Just the sight of her brought sadness to old Scrooge’s heart. He was once so in love with her that seeing her now dancing with his younger self was more than he could bear. He turned away.

  Mercifully, the ghost used his cap to somewhat dim the light, and slowly the images in front of them faded away.

  The spirit pointed at the people as they disappeared from view. “A small matter to make these silly folks so grateful.”

  “Small,” Scrooge said, thinking that it was a very large matter.

  The specter nodded and resumed making his point. “This celebration cost old Fezziwig but a few pounds of your mortal money.”

  Before Scrooge could disagree, the ghost cast another image out before him. They were now in a back room of the warehouse, which had been turned into a small apartment for Ebenezer and Wilkins.

  “Mr. Fezziwig chooses to make us happy,” the young Scrooge said as he lay awake on his cot. “This happiness he gives is as great as if it cost him a fortune.”

  “Here, here,” Wilkins said in agreement.

  At times when they relived these moments from his past, Scrooge almost forgot about the ghost. The memories and emotions were so strong that it was as if he were not watching himself as a young man, but as if he were actually a young man once more. And, this being one of those moments, he so wanted to talk to his old clerk, Wilkins. He wanted to reconnect. But then he looked and saw the spirit and realized that it was impossible.

  “What’s the matter?” asked the Ghost of Christmas Past.

  “Nothing particular,” Scrooge said as he tried to clear the emotion from his throat.

  “Something, I think.”

  “No,” Scrooge replied, shaking his head. “I should like to be able to say a word or two to my clerk just now. That’s all.”

  The spirit nodded. “My time grows short,” he told Ebenezer.

  And, in an instant, they had left Fezziwig’s warehouse and were transported to the office of Scrooge and Marley. It was several years later, and Ebenezer was in his early thirties. His face didn’t yet have the harsh and rigid lines that now defined it, but there was a greedy and restless motion to his eyes.

  Through the glass partition of the office, he could see his partner, Jacob Marley. Marley was young and hard at work organizing heavy, iron lockboxes. For a moment, Scrooge was frozen by the knowledge that those same lockboxes would be chained to him for all eternity.

  Then he heard crying and looked down to see Belle, sitting next to his younger self. She was beautiful, but her face looked sad and tears lined her cheeks.

  “Another idol has replaced me,” she said.

  “What idol?” the younger Scrooge asked.

  Belle wiped the tears from her cheeks and stared him in the eyes. “A golden one.”

  Scrooge’s success had changed him and now that he had earned money, he had begun to value it more than anything. Belle worried that he valued it even more than he valued her.

  The younger Scrooge bit his lower lip and looked back at her. “There is nothing on this earth more terrifying to me than a life doomed to poverty,” he told her. “May I ask why you condemn with such severity the honest pursuit of substance?”

  Belle shook her head. “You fear the world too much, Ebenezer,” she told him. “You’ve changed.”

  “Perhaps grown wiser,” he explained to her.

  “But I have not changed toward you.”

  “Our contract is an old one. It was made when we were both poor and content to be so,” she said. “When it was made, you were another man.”

  The younger Scrooge was now getting angry. “I was a boy!”

  Scrooge was heartbroken as he looked at his former self and the only woman he had ever loved. They had been engaged to marry, but it was at this moment that their engagement ended.

  “I release you, Ebenezer,” she told him.

  “Have I ever sought release?” young Scrooge asked her.

  “In words, no.”

  “In what then?”

  “In everything that made my love of any worth in your sight,” she explained. “Tell me, Ebenezer. If you were free today, would you choose a dowerless girl? A girl left penniless by the death of her parents. You, who weighs everything by gain?”

  The young Scrooge said nothing. In his heart, he knew she was right. If he had his choice, he’d marry someone whose family had money and power. The older Scrooge could scarcely watch. Decades of lonely living had shown him that no monetary value could be p
laced on the love that he and Belle once shared. If only he had realized it at the time.

  Belle wiped some more tears from her eyes and stood. She knew that she could never be happy with a man who only valued money. “I release you, Ebenezer,” she said. “May you be happy in the life you have chosen.”

  As she walked from his office, tears streaked down the old man’s face. “Spirit, show me no more,” he pleaded with the Ghost of Christmas Past. “Conduct me home. Why do you delight in torturing me?”

  “One more shadow,” the spirit replied.

  Just then, Belle opened the office door and a gust of wind blew in from outside. The gust caused the spirit’s light to flicker, and with it many years passed.

  When the flickering stopped, they were in a warm and pleasant house filled with noisy children. Everything about the room was bright and cheerful. Scrooge did not recognize it in the least.

  Then he saw Belle.

  She was older now and still radiantly beautiful. She sat by the fireplace talking to her teenage daughter. Ebenezer realized that the squealing children were hers. There were five in all.

  “Father’s home,” shouted one of the boys.

  Just then Scrooge turned to see Belle’s husband enter the room. He was tall and handsome with a happy smile. He knelt down and hugged the children as they rushed over to him.

  Just then, a porter walked in behind him, his arms piled high with Christmas toys and gifts.

  “Christmas presents!” the children shouted as they started to pull them from the porter’s arms.

  “All right, children,” their father said, laughing and coming to the man’s rescue. “These gifts are to reside in the foyer until Christmas. And no peeking!”

  The children led the porter toward the foyer, and for a moment the noise died down.

  “Where are we?” Scrooge asked the ghost. “And why do you bring me here?”