Read Online A Zombie Christmas Carol by Michael G. Thomas; Charles Dickens - Free Book Online Page A

Until today, he had completely forgotten about Mr Jenkins, yet his body obviously retained the memory and skills he had picked up in just those brief moments with the sword.  After that event, he had been required to both train with and sometimes to even use a sword but it was this point in time where he had actually touched and held a weapon for the first time.  In a way, it was a moment of transition for him and the start of his interest in the weapon. It was not until now, when the bright faces of his former self and Dick were turned from them, that he remembered the Ghost, and became conscious that it was looking full upon him, while the light upon its head burnt very clear.
    “A small matter,” said the Ghost, “to make these silly folks so full of gratitude.”
    “Small!” echoed Scrooge.
    The Spirit signed to him to listen to the two apprentices, who were pouring out their hearts in praise of Fezziwig: and when he had done so, said,
    “Why! Is it not? He has spent but a few pounds of your mortal money: three or four perhaps. Is that so much that he deserves this praise?”
    “It isn’t that,” said Scrooge, heated by the remark, and speaking unconsciously like his former, not his latter, self. “It isn’t that, Spirit. He has the power to render us happy or unhappy; to make our service light or burdensome; a pleasure or a toil. Say that his power lies in words and looks; in things so slight and insignificant that it is impossible to add and count ’em up: what then?  Even Mr Jenkins, the older soldier was able to spread interest and enjoyment at nothing else other than showing off a few moves with his sword.  None of this would be possible without the effort and intention of Fezziwig.  The happiness he gives, is quite as great as if it cost a fortune and yet, look at the joy the sight of Mrs. Fezziwig being able to enjoy the company of her brother at this time.”
    He felt the Spirit’s glance, and stopped.
    “What is the matter?” asked the Ghost.
    “Nothing particular,” said Scrooge.
    “Something, I think?” the Ghost insisted.
    “No,” said Scrooge, “No. I should like to be able to say a word or two to my clerk just now. That’s all.”
    His former self turned down the lamps as he gave utterance to the wish; and Scrooge and the Ghost again stood side by side in the open air.
     “My time grows short,” observed the Spirit. “Quick!”
    This was not addressed to Scrooge, or to any one whom he could see, but it produced an immediate effect. For again Scrooge saw himself. He was older now; a man in the prime of life. His face had not the harsh and rigid lines of later years; but it had begun to wear the signs of care and avarice. There was an eager, greedy, restless motion in the eye, which showed the passion that had taken root, and where the shadow of the growing tree would fall.
    He was not alone, but sat by the side of a fair young girl in a mourning-dress: in whose eyes there were tears, which sparkled in the light that shone out of the Ghost of Christmas Past.
    “It matters little,” she said, softly. “To you, very little. Another idol has displaced me; and if it can cheer and comfort you in time to come, as I would have tried to do, I have no just cause to grieve.”
    “What Idol has displaced you?” he rejoined.
    “A golden one.”
    “This is the even-handed dealing of the world!” he said. “There is nothing on which it is so hard as poverty; and there is nothing it professes to condemn with such severity as the pursuit of wealth!”
    “You fear the world too much,” she answered, gently. “All your other hopes have merged into the hope of being beyond the chance of its sordid reproach. I have seen your nobler aspirations fall off one by one, until the master-passion, Gain, engrosses you. Have I not?”
    “What then?” he retorted. “Even if I have grown so much wiser, what then? I am not changed towards you.”
    She shook her head.
    “Am I?”
    “Our contract