The Swerve

Not A Christmas Carol by Min Z., 605

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Once upon a time, there was a man named Mr. Scrooge. He gave out money to the poor and spent much of his money on useless items. The kids loved him so. He was fun, jolly, and merry. If there was a contest for the most merry man, Mr. Scrooge would win in a flash.
One day, his partner died. “Oh, mourn his death. He was a fine fellow, a fine, fine fellow indeed,” Mr. Scrooge mumbled between tears. “I couldn’t do much without him. He was a great partner and always will be.”
Mr. Scrooge went home. He opened his house doors. It was a cozy mansion with christmas decorations filling up every corner. He hurried up the stairs and sat down in an overstuffed chair. “Oh my. My back is in much pain,” Mr. Scrooge groaned. As Mr. Scrooge slowly drifted off, a blinding light appeared out of nowhere.
“Who might you be?” Mr. Scrooge asked. “I am the ghost of…Christmas Past. Mr. Scrooge scratched his head in confusion. “Bah-Hum-Bug! Get out of my humble abode!” Mr. Scrooge exclaimed. He suddenly covered his mouth. It wasn’t like him to be so rash.
“Allow your bold side to take over. We are going to take a look at your Christmas Past,” the blinding light whispered. “Now, follow me and see how you can fix your…future.” Mr. Scrooge nodded as he jumped up and down.
The Ghost of Christmas Past led him toward a white portal. Mr. Scrooge slowly stepped in. Mr. Scrooge saw his past self and lept towards his past self. He groaned when the Ghost of Christmas Past pulled him back. “Bah-Hum-Bug!” Mr. Scrooge exclaimed. He watched as his past self was waving to everyone on the street as he attempted to hug everyone.
Everyone looked so bored and tired. “Look there, Mr. Scrooge. Does anyone look happy?” Mr. Scrooge hung his head. “I guessed so. You try to make the world a better place, but there’s nothing you can do about that. If you could be like everyone else, you’d fit in the big picture. For now, you’re an extra piece that no one seems to need. The kids fit in at the very edge, because they go to boring ol’ school. Learn how to fit in and you’ll be alright.”
Mr. Scrooge looked terrified as the Ghost of Christmas Past disappeared. He screamed like a little kid when a spookier ghost appeared. It was taller and slimmer. It was also dressed like everyone else in 1843. “Hello sir. Who might you be?” Mr. Scrooge asked. “I am…the Ghost of Christmas Present,” the ghost whispered. “Why do you need to be here? This is what is happening currently, am I right, sir?” Mr. Scrooge mumbled curiously.
“I’m here to teach you about what may happen if you do not change your present,” the Ghost of Christmas Present said quietly. “Look over there. That is you. That is you before you met the Ghost of Christmas Past.” Mr. Scrooge watched as his present self was handing 3 shillings to a homeless man on the street.
The man was smiling as Mr. Scrooge handed it to him. “Thank you, kind sir. May God always be with you,” the homeless man mumbled. Mr. Scrooge smiled kindly. His smile quickly faded away as a scrawny boy snatched one of the three shillings away from the homeless man. “Ha! This lil’ thing has got to be enough to buy myself a shilling’s worth of food!” the scrawny boy exclaimed.
“That’s only ONE shilling,” Mr. Scrooge said calmly. “Shilling!” a scrawny girl on the corner of the street exclaimed. She scrambled to her feet and dashed over to to the homeless man. She shrieked at the very sight of the shiny shilling. The homeless man tried to protect it, but he was too weak. She snatched it away from him and cradled it in her arms. “Oh, my mom will be so proud of me. The shiny colour of the shilling is making me beam. See, see! Look at it gleam!” the scrawny girl exclaimed. Mr. Scrooge beamed. That girl might be poor, but she was an excellent reciter of poetry!
The scrawny girl went up to Mr. Scrooge. “Hello there, sir. My name is Mary. (Pronounced like Mar-ray).” Mary curtsied. Mr. Scrooge studied her facial features carefully. Mary suddenly ran away. The street slowly faded away as his bedroom became visible once more. “Now, did you notice the look on the man’s face as the vision slowly faded away?” the Ghost of Christmas Present asked. Mr. Scrooge shook his head no. “Well then, you are in for a surprise. He threw his remaining shilling into the deep, dark abyss of the sewers. He wasn’t grateful. He hated you deep down inside.”
“I understand. The gratitude never existed, did it?” Mr. Scrooge whispered sadly. “Beware as you meet the Ghost of Christmas Future for he may bring you to eternal despair,” the Ghost of Christmas Present whispered as he disappeared.
A huge black figure appeared. Mr. Scrooge waved happily. The huge black figure howled as the room became pitch-black. Mr. Scrooge kind of got the hint that it was a dangerous time, so he began to run. The huge black figure stopped chasing him when he arrived at a graveyard. People were standing around a grave.
Nobody could see Mr. Scrooge, so he stepped through everybody and read what it said on the grave.
The only words that he could actually read was his own name. Everybody seemed quite happy. Although they were all dressed in dark shades of purple, brown, orange, and black, they seemed happy enough.
“Let’s have a toast for the fact that Mr. Scrooge is dead!” a young looking man exclaimed. “Mayor Wadsworth! Mayor Wadsworth!” the crowd chanted. Mayor Wadsworth? Was that a new mayor? During Mr. Scrooge’s time, the mayor was older and a lot more kinder. Everybody took a sip of their rum as Mayor Wadsworth made his toast.
The Ghost of Christmas Future shook his/her head in disgust. It threw Mr. Scrooge into the gravestone. Mr. Scrooge braced himself, thinking that he would hit the gravestone. Instead, the gravestone opened up and Mr. Scrooge fell into a coffin. Mr. Scrooge blinked once. Twice.
He was laying in his bed. He walked out. He made sure that his guests would trip. He ushered Madame Petit Nashet’ out of his house. He threw on his coat and ran outside. The kids all cheered when they saw him. In return, his picked up all their sleds and playthings and broke them in half.
He went back to his house and scrambled back up to his bedroom. In his ceiling, he could’ve sworn that the Ghost of Christmas Future winked at him. Instead, he decided to go to bed.
Bah-Hum-Bug

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