CHAPTER FOUR

The Last Spirit

The third Ghost slowly and silently walked towards Scrooge. When it stopped in front of him, Scrooge bent down on one knee before it, as if he were its servant. He didn't know why he did this; he only knew that this Ghost was very different from the other two. It seemed to spread darkness and mystery through the air.

The Ghost wore a dark black robe, which hid its face, its figure, and everything else except one white hand. Scrooge couldn't even see its eyes behind its hood. It was like looking into a deep, black hole. If that one white hand had not been there, it would have been difficult to see the Ghost in the darkness. However, when it stood in front of him, Scrooge thought that the Ghost was very tall. He knew nothing more, because the Ghost did not speak or move. He only knew that this Ghost filled his heart with a strange, terrible fear.

"Are you the Ghost of Christmas Future?" Scrooge asked the black figure.

The Ghost did not speak. It raised its white hand and pointed ahead into the mist, as if to tell Scrooge to follow it.

"You are going to show me parts of the future, things that have not yet happened?" asked Scrooge. He needed to hear the Ghost speak. Oh, if only it would speak to him! The Ghost's silence frightened Scrooge more than anything else.

The Ghost did not answer Scrooge, but Scrooge thought he saw the Ghost's hood move a little, as if the thing inside had nodded its head. That was the only answer he got. Then it raised its white hand again, and pointed ahead of them.

Dear reader, can you imagine how Scrooge felt? At this point in our story, Scrooge was very familiar with ghosts. Old Jacob Marley and the Ghosts of Christmas Past and Present had surprised him at first, but he had been able to have conversations with them. They had answered his questions, and they weren't even very frightened. But this Ghost—Scrooge feared it so much, that he could not move. It was as silent and black as Death. His knees were shaking, and he could barely walk. The black shape paused for a minute, as if it knew how Scrooge felt, and was giving him time to recover.

But Scrooge felt even more afraid. He imagined that behind the Ghost's black hood, there were sharp eyes looking closely at him. But even though Scrooge stared as hard as he could into the Ghost's hood, all he could see was a ghostly white hand, and one large heap of blackness.

"Ghost of the Future!" Scrooge said. "I fear you more than any other Ghost I have met. But I know that, like the other Ghosts, your purpose is to help me. And because I hope to be a different man from the man I was, I will go with you, and do it with a grateful heart. Please, will you speak to me?"

The spirit said nothing. It only pointed ahead with its white hand.

"Lead me, Ghost!" said Scrooge. "The night is disappearing, and it is precious time to me. Take me wherever you must take me!"

The Ghost of Christmas Future turned and walked through the mist. Scrooge followed behind it. He did not touch the black robe, but it somehow seemed to carry him along through the air. All of a sudden, they were standing in the very center of London, on a busy street. There were many rich merchants hurrying along the streets. Scrooge could hear the coins moving in their pockets. Sometimes they stopped to speak to each other. They looked at their large gold watches, and played with the gold in their pockets while they talked.

The Ghost stopped beside one group of merchants and pointed to them. Scrooge realized that the Ghost wanted him to listen to their talk, so he walked over to them.

"No," said a large fat man with a red face. "I don't know anything else about it. I only know that he's dead."

"When did he die?" asked another man.

"Last night, I think."

"Well, what was the matter with him?" said a third man. He took a pipe out of his pocket and began to smoke it. "I thought he was a hundred years old. I thought he'd never die!"

"Well, only God knows why," said the fat man. He yawned, as if he thought the conversation was boring.

"What has he done with all his money?" said another man. Scrooge knew the man; he had done business with him. He hadn't realized before how ugly and greedy the man looked.

"I don't know," said the fat man. "Maybe he left it to his company. All I know is, he hasn't given it to me!" The other men laughed at this.

"I think it will be a very cheap funeral," the fat man continued, "because I don't know anyone who will go to it! Why don't we all go?"

The ugly man laughed. "Well, I guess I'll go to the funeral, but only if they provide lunch!" Everyone laughed even louder.

"Well, I don't care about his funeral at all," said another gentleman. "I never wear black clothing, and I never eat lunch. What did he ever do for me? But if everyone else is going, I'll go too. Actually, I think maybe he liked me, because we used to stop and speak whenever we met. Well, goodbye!"

All the men went away on their own business. Scrooge looked at the black Ghost for an explanation, but, of course, he got no answer. He did not know who the men had been talking about—who the dead man was.

Silently, the Ghost moved down the street. It stopped in front of two different gentlemen talking together, and raised its white hand. Scrooge knew these two men very well, because he had done business with them many times. They were very rich and important men. In his life, Scrooge had always made sure that he worked with the most rich and successful men in London. He always hoped to make money off them.

"Well, how are you?" said one.

"I'm all right. How are you?" said the other.

"Did you hear the news? Old Scratch has finally gotten what was coming to him!" said the first man.

"Yes, I heard that he died," said his friend. "Cold outside, isn't it?"

"Yes, but it's nice. Today's Christmas Day! Do you ice skate?"

"Oh, no. I'm too busy for that. Well, I have other things to do. Goodbye!" And the two men parted.

Scrooge did not understand why the Ghost wanted him to listen to these conversations. What did they have to do with him? Who had died? However, Scrooge felt that the merchant's conversations were important somehow. The Ghost would not make him listen, if they were not. He wondered what their meaning was. The men could not be talking about the death of old Jacob Marley, because Scrooge was now visiting the Future. Jacob Marley's death was in the Past. Scrooge could not think of anyone connected with himself who was called "Old Scratch."

But he knew that Ghost of Christmas Future was there to teach him a lesson. "Hopefully, I will understand the black Ghost's purpose soon," he thought. He decided to pay close attention to everything he saw and heard. He would also observe his future self, when he saw him. Scrooge thought that seeing his future self would give him the answers to all his questions.

He looked around everywhere for his future self, but he did not see himself anywhere. Other men sat on the benches where he used to sit. Scrooge hoped that this absence meant that the future Scrooge had changed, and did not work as hard as he used to.

The terrible Ghost stood beside him, quiet and black as night. It had turned toward him, and it seemed to be waiting for him. When Scrooge stopped looking for his future self in the street, he imagined that the Ghost's eyes were looking at him closely once again. Why? What was it thinking? What secrets did it know? Scrooge shook, and felt very cold inside.

Scrooge and the Ghost left the busy streets and went to a strange part of town which Scrooge did not know. It was a very poor area, but it was not at all like the Crachit family's neighborhood. That area of London had been poor, but its people were good and friendly. This neighborhood had many criminals and bad people living in it, and it was dirty and dangerous. No one thought of Christmas here—it was difficult to survive! The streets smelled bad, and the dirty shops and houses had broken windows. The people on the street were almost naked. They were drunken, mean, and ugly. Dogs, cats, and children sat in piles of garbage, looking for food. The whole area was filled with too many people, and the air seemed to smell of crime, dirt, and misery.

Deep inside this terrible neighborhood, there was a small shop where people went to buy rags, pieces of iron, and even pieces of terrible old meat and bones that the butchers' threw away. Sometimes people bought them for soup. Scrooge and the Ghost entered this shop next. On the shop's floor, there were piles of chains, keys, boxes, and bits of machines. There were piles of old papers and dirty rags everywhere. Everything seemed to be covered with a layer of grease. There were piles of fat and old bones sitting in buckets. Who knew how many rats, mice, insects, and worms lived in that shop? I don't like to think about it.

Sitting amongst all these things was an old man, about seventy years old. He sat in a chair next to a small stove. He was wrapped in a thin blanket, if you could call it a blanket. It was more like a dirty piece of cloth, with many holes. But the man did not seem to care. He smoked a pipe calmly.

Just as Scrooge and the Ghost entered the room, the door opened and an old woman came in. She carried a heavy bag in her arms. Then another woman came in, also holding a bag. The two women stared at each other in surprise, but before they could speak, the door opened again and a man dressed in black entered. He had a bag like the others. They all stared at each other and burst out laughing.

"Well, imagine meeting you two here!" said the first woman to the other two. "Look, Joe, isn't this funny? We all arrived here at the same time by accident!" Joe was the old man.

"Well, isn't that convenient?" said Joe. "Come in! Let me shut the door of the shop, and then we can do some business. How noisy the door is! There's no piece of metal in this shop older than this door, and there aren't any bones in here older than mine! Ha, ha! Come in, come in!"

The four people went and sat down next to the stove. Joe put some coal on the fire, and then sat down in his chair and began to smoke his pipe once again.

After a moment the first woman threw down her heavy bag. "Well, Joe, there it is!" she said. She looked at the other people in the room almost angrily. "Everyone has a right to take care of themselves. Every person has a right to make money. I know he certainly did!"

"That's true!" said the other old woman. "He was a rich old man!"

"Well, of course!" said old Joe. "Don't stand there staring, as if you were afraid, woman! We're not going to tell the police, are we?"

"Oh, no!" said the others.

"Well, it's not as if he needs these things now—he's dead!" said the first woman. "He was a strange old man; he must have been very terrible! I heard he died all alone, with no one in the room with him. Well, open the bag, Joe. Let me know the value of what is inside. You can tell me the truth; I don't care that the others are watching. We knew we were taking his things. He was an awful, mean old man, so it isn't a sin. Open it, Joe!"

But the man in black held up his hand, and opened his bag first. Inside his bag were some strange objects. There were a few boxes and an old picture. Joe looked at each of the objects, and told the man how much money they were worth. It wasn't very much money.

Then the second woman opened her bag. Her name was Mrs Dilber. She had some bed sheets and towels, a few silver spoons, and some boots. Joe counted the objects and told her how much money he would pay for them. Mrs Dilber received a little more money than the man had.

"I always give too much money to you ladies—it's a problem of mine. That's why I'm so poor!" said Joe to Mrs Dilber, laughing. "Now, don't ask me for any more, or I'll be sorry for my kindness!"

"And now look inside my bag, Joe!" said the first woman.

Joe opened the first woman's bag. Inside was a large, heavy, black sheet.

"What is this?" asked Joe. "It looks like a bed curtain!"

"That's exactly what it is," said the woman. Bed curtains hung around people's beds in the old days.

Joe looked surprised. "Did you take these curtains from his bed, while he was lying there and dying?"

"Yes, I certainly did!" said the woman. "Why not take them?"

"Well, you'll certainly be successful at this job!" said Joe. "Well, I wasn't going to miss the opportunity," said the woman. "He didn't need them—he was almost dead when I got there. Besides, think of the kind of man he was. He would probably have done the same thing, if it would help him. And look, here are some of his blankets. He isn't going to catch a cold without them!"

"I hope he didn't die of a sickness. We might catch it!" said Joe.

"Oh, don't worry about it," said the woman. "Here's his best shirt. There aren't any holes in it, and the material is very nice. It was lucky that I saved it. Someone wanted to bury him in the shirt, but I took it off his body at the last moment. I said he should be buried in an uglier shirt, because the worms were going to eat it up anyway!"

Scrooge listened to this conversation, and felt terrible. These people had stolen some poor dead man's things from his house, even the clothes off his body! These people were terrible! But who was the dead man? Scrooge knew that the Ghost of Christmas Future would give him no answers.

Joe gave a bag of money to the woman. It was more than the others had received. "Ha, ha!" laughed the woman. "That man had no friends when he was alive. So now, we can get rich from his death. There's no one who cares about his house or his things!"

"Ghost of Christmas Future!" cried Scrooge. "I understand now. If I do not change myself, my life will end just like this poor, dead man has ended!"

Suddenly the scene changed. Scrooge was standing in a dark, cold room. In front of him was a bed, and on the bed something lay. It was covered with a sheet. The black Ghost stood next to the bed, and its white hand pointed at the thing on the bed.

Scrooge was terribly afraid. He knew what lay on the bed. It was the dead man. Here he lay on his bed. No one cared about the body. There were no friends or family in the room. The man had died alone, and no one was sorry. Only the thieves had come to steal from him. "Is there anything more terrible?" thought Scrooge.

The dead man's face was covered with the sheet, and Scrooge knew that all he had to do was lift the sheet, and he would see the man's face. He knew the Ghost wanted him to see the dead man's face—but he could not lift the sheet. He was too afraid. He did not have the courage to look at the man's face. He wondered what the man's last thoughts had been before he died. "If he was alive right now, what would he be thinking about? Probably his money, and his business, and things like that!"

Scrooge turned to the black, silent Ghost. "Spirit!" said Scrooge. "Please, let us leave this horrible room. I have learned an important lesson. This man died alone, because he did not love others in life. He became rich, but he was really poor, because he had no friends or family. Please believe me, I will not forget him. Let's leave this place!"

The Ghost said nothing. Its white hand still pointed to the bed.

"I understand what you want me to do, oh Ghost," said Scrooge, "but I cannot do it. Forgive me, Ghost, forgive me!"

Once more, Scrooge felt as if the Ghost's eyes were looking at him.

"Please, Ghost, if there is any person in this world, who feels something about this man, show him to me!" cried Scrooge.

The Ghost lifted its dark robe for a moment, like a bird's wing. Then Scrooge saw that they were standing in a different room. It was daytime, and a mother and her children were sitting by a fire.

The mother seemed to be waiting for something, because she walked up and down the room. She had a worried look on her face. Scrooge thought that she was probably expecting a guest, because she looked at the clock every few minutes. The noisy children were playing in the next room, but she did not pay attention to them.

Finally the door opened and the woman's husband came in. Usually, he had a serious, sad face. The man looked older than he was, because he had a very hard life. He worried about many things, but mostly about money, and how he would feed his family. But now, Scrooge saw that the man looked almost happy.

He sat down at the table and began to eat the dinner that his wife had cooked for him. After a little while, she spoke to her husband in a quiet voice. "Is the news good or bad?"

"It is bad, Caroline," said her husband.

"Oh, no! Is our family ruined?" asked Caroline.

"There is still hope!" said her husband.

"If he helps us, there is hope! But that would be a miracle!" said Caroline sadly.

"He cannot help us anymore," said Caroline's husband. "He is dead!"

Caroline's face looked almost happy. She cried out, "Oh, thank God!" and then immediately was sorry, and apologized. She did not want to thank God for someone's death, but she couldn't help it. She was very relieved.

Her husband explained the situation to her. "I went to his office to ask for another week to find the money. I was very afraid," he said. "But they told me he was very ill, and almost dead. And he died last night!"

"Who will we pay the debt to now? And when do we have to pay it?" asked Caroline.

"I don't know," said her husband. "But we will have the money by that time. And I am sure that the next man will be a better and nicer one than he was. We can sleep well tonight, Caroline!" And the man hugged his wife.

The little children came into the room. They did not understand why their parents were happy, but they hadn't seen their father look so well in a long time!

These people were happier, because of this man's death! Scrooge felt terrible.

"Oh Ghost, let me see something good and loving about death," Scrooge said. "Otherwise, the thoughts of this dead man, who was cruel and greedy in life, and whom no one cares for in his death, will stay in my mind forever!"

Again the Ghost of Christmas Future raised its white hand and pointed out the door. Scrooge followed the Ghost as it walked slowly through the streets of London. Soon they were in an area he knew. It was Bob Crachit's neighborhood. The Ghost entered Bob Crachit's home, and Scrooge saw Mrs Crachit and her children sitting around the fire.

What Scrooge noticed about the Crachit house, on this Christmas Day in the future, was that it was very, very quiet. No one was laughing and talking, as they had on the other Christmas Day. There were no happy noises of children. The children were standing in front of the fire, and quietly staring at Peter Crachit, who had a book in his hand. Mrs Crachit and her daughters were sewing some little clothes. Why weren't they happy?

Peter was reading aloud from the Bible. "God sent His child down to the people," he read. Scrooge remembered hearing these words when he was a little boy.

Suddenly Mrs Crachit put her hands over her head. "Thank you for reading to the children, Peter. Oh, dear. My eyes hurt terribly. There isn't enough light in the room," she said. "My head aches, too. But I don't want your father to know—we must be cheerful when he comes home."

Suddenly Scrooge understood. Where was Tiny Tim? "Oh, no!" he cried softly. Poor Tim was dead.

"He should have been home by now," said Mrs Crachit.

"Yes, he's a little late," said Peter. "But I think he walks a little more slowly than he used to, mother." Peter looked sad.

Everyone was quiet for a moment. At last Mrs Crachit said in a steady, cheerful voice, "Well, I'm sure he'll be home any minute. He used to walk very fast, with—with Tiny Tim sitting on his shoulders."

"Oh, yes!" said Peter.

"But he was very light to carry," said Mrs Crachit softly. "And your father loved him, so it was no trouble. No trouble at all." She turned her face away from her children, so they would not see the tears in her eyes.

Scrooge, who was watching this sad scene, wanted to cry.

"There is your father at the door!" said Mrs Crachit suddenly. She jumped up, just as Bob Crachit came inside. Mrs Crachit ran to pour her husband a hot cup of tea. His little children sat on his lap. They looked at their father as if to say, "Don't worry, father. Don't be sad anymore. We are still here!"

Poor Bob was very cheerful with his family. He asked the children about their day. He told his daughters that the clothes they had made were very beautiful. "I think they'll be done before the funeral on Sunday," he said.

"Why were you late, dear?" Mrs Crachit asked her husband.

"Well ... I went to the church," said Bob slowly.

"Oh, Bob ... did you see his resting place?" asked Mrs Crachit.

"Yes, my dear. It's very beautiful and peaceful there. It will be good for you to see it. Next Sunday, perhaps you can come with me. I promised Tim I would go to his grave, each Sunday ... oh, my little child!" he cried suddenly. "My little, little child!" And he began to cry silently.

Scrooge, standing with the Ghost in the shadows, felt the tears running down his face. Oh, Tiny Tim! And poor Bob and Mrs Crachit!

Scrooge watched as Bob went up the stairs. The Ghost of Christmas Past suddenly raised its hand and pointed, as if telling Scrooge to follow Bob. Scrooge walked up the stairs. He found Bob sitting in a little room by a bed. In the bed was the body of his son, Tiny Tim. He had died two days ago.

Scrooge watched as Bob stared at the body of his son. Bob was thinking that he was glad his little boy was not in pain any more, and was at peace in Heaven. Finally, he sighed and kissed the child's cold cheek. He felt much better.

When Bob went downstairs, he was much more cheerful. The whole family sat around the fire and talked. Bob told them all about the kindness of Fred, Scrooge's nephew. "I had only met him once before, but he saw me in the street today. He came over to me and said I looked a little unhappy, and asked if there was anything he could do to help. I told him our son had died, and he said 'I am so sorry, Mr Crachit, for you and for your good wife!' I don't know how he knew that!"

"Knew what, Bob?" asked Mrs Crachit.

"I don't know how he knew that you were a good wife," said Bob, smiling.

"Well, everyone knows that, Father!" cried Peter.

"That's exactly right, my boy!" said Bob. "I hope they do, anyway. Well, old Scrooge's nephew is a wonderful young man. He gave me his card, and said, 'If there is anything I can do for you and your family, please come and see me.' It's not because he wants to help us, but because he was so kind, that I felt better. It almost seemed as if he had known our Tiny Tim."

"I'm sure he's a wonderful man!" said Mrs Crachit.

"You'd believe it even more, my dear, if you met him," said Bob. "I wouldn't be surprised if he finds Peter a better job!"

"Peter, did you hear that? How wonderful!" cried Mrs Crachit.

"Oh, and then Peter can find a house of his own, and get married!" cried Martha, Peter's sister.

"Oh, be quiet!" said Peter, smiling and laughing.

His father smiled at him. "I'm sure Peter will get married someday and leave us," he said. "But there's plenty of time for that. But no matter what happens, I am sure that none of us will ever forget Tiny Tim. He was the first to leave us."

"Never, Father!" all the children cried.

"And I know, my dears," Bob said to his family, "that we will remember how wise and patient little Tim was, even though he was only a little boy. His memory will inspire us!"

"Oh, yes, Father!" everyone said.

"Then I am very happy," said Bob. "I am very happy!" Mrs Crachit wiped her eyes and kissed her husband. Then Bob's daughters kissed him, and Peter and his father shook hands. Oh, Tiny Tim, your little soul was from God!

Scrooge turned to the Ghost of Christmas Future. It stood there in front of him. "Ghost," said Scrooge, "something tells me that our time together is almost over. I must know something. Who was that dead man?"

The Ghost raised its white hand, and all of a sudden they were standing in front of Scrooge's office. Scrooge looked into the window, hoping to see himself. Where was he? Instead, there was another man working in his office, and sitting at his desk!

"Ghost," he said, "let me see my future self. In our time together, I have not seen the man I will become, the future Ebenezer Scrooge. Please, will you show him to me?"

The Ghost did not answer. Its white hand was pointed in another direction. Scrooge had no choice but to follow the silent ghost. What was the meaning of all the things the Ghost had shown him? Scrooge still didn't understand.

They reached an iron gate. Scrooge saw that it was a graveyard. It was very ugly. The grass was dead and brown, and all the flowers on the graves were brown.

The Ghost walked to one of the gravestones and pointed to it. There were no flowers on this grave. Scrooge walked towards it. He was shaking badly. The Ghost looked exactly the same as always, but Scrooge imagined that there was a new meaning in its shape. What was the Ghost trying to tell him?

"Oh, Ghost of the Future," Scrooge said in a weak voice, "please tell me one thing. Are the events you have shown me things that will happen, or things that might happen?"

The black Ghost said nothing. Its white hand continued to point at the grave.

Scrooge took a deep breath and looked at the gravestone.

On the gravestone he read his own name, EBENEZER SCROOGE.

"Oh, Ghost!" Scrooge cried. He fell to his knees. "Do you mean that I am that dead man, with no friends or family? That man who died alone, loving no one, and being loved by no one?"

Horribly, the Ghost's white finger pointed to Scrooge, and then to the grave again.

"Oh, no, spirit! Oh, no, no!"

The terrible hand was still pointing at the grave.

Scrooge grabbed the Ghost's black robe. "Ghost!" he cried. "Listen to me! I am not the mean, terrible man that I was. I will not be the man that lay upon the bed, the dead man you showed me. Oh Ghost, why do you show me these things, if I have no hope?"

For the first time, Scrooge saw the white hand shake.

"Good spirit," said Scrooge, kneeling on the ground before the Ghost, "I understand that you pity me, and want to help me. Please tell me that I can change this terrible future, if I change myself!"

The Ghost's kind hand trembled.

"I will love and honor Christmas forever, and never forget the lessons that the Three Ghosts of Christmas have taught me. I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future. Oh, tell me I can erase the writing on this stone!" Tears were running down Scrooge's face.

In his pain, Scrooge grabbed the Ghost's hand. The Ghost tried to pull its hand away, but Scrooge held on. The Ghost, even stronger, pulled away.

"I will remember!" cried Scrooge.

He saw the Ghost's shape change. It seemed to become thinner and smaller. Then it turned into—a bedpost!

(end of section)