A Christmas Carol - Movies Style - A Fanfic...

"Spirit!" he cried.

But only his own voice answered him. "Spirit, spirit, spirit."

"Come back!" shouted Scrooge.

"Back! Back! Back!"

"I wish to talk!"

"Talk! Talk! Talk!" and the echo seemed to taunt him.

Besides the echo, he was only answered by dripping water and the cold, whistling wind. "Perhaps I have made a mistake here and there," he admitted. "Talked too quickly about matters to which I gave no great thought. Very well, Spirit, we will have a give and take, come to some meeting of the minds! I-I-I am a reasonable man. SPIRIT!"

"Spirit! Spirit! Spirit!" taunted the echo.

"Have pity on me! Do not leave me!" But again only the dripping water and the whistling wind answered. Scrooge sat down in despair. "What have I done to be abandoned like this? What? What? WHAT?"

Just then, the clock began tolling. Remembering that Jacob Marley had forecasted that the third Spirit would arrive when the clock struck midnight, Scrooge got up and began to run. He ran and ran, even as the clock continued to strike. As the last bell struck, he froze to a stop, beholding a tall, thin, solemn Phantom, draped and hooded, seeming to scatter gloom and mystery in the very air through which it stood.

The Spirit was wearing a deep garment, which concealed its face and form, and left nothing revealed, only two tiny pricks of light for eyes shining within the darkness of what should have been its face.

Although it was tall and stately, its mysterious presence filled him with a solemn dread. He knew no more, for the Spirit neither spoke nor moved.

"Are you the third Spirit which Jacob Marley foretold would visit me?"

The upper portion of his garment was contracted for an instant in its fold, as if the Spirit had nodded its head.

"Then I am in the presence of the Spirit of Christmas Yet to Come. am I not?"

Again the Spirit nodded its head.

"You are about to show me the shadows of things that have not yet happened, but will happen in the time before us. Is that so?"

This time the Spirit only stood there, unmoving.

"Spirit, I fear you more than any spector I have yet met. But I am prepared to follow and to learn with a thankful heart."

The Spirit merely stood there.

"Will you not speak to me?"

The Spirit merely put an arm around Scrooge and pointed off into the distance.

"Oh, yes, yes!" agreed Scrooge. "The night is waning fast. and it is precious time for me. Lead on, Spirit. Lead on."

As they began to walk, there was a bright flash of lightning, followed by a loud clap of thunder. Scrooge closed his eyes against the brightness. When he opened them it was onto a dark cold street, with rain mixed with snow pouring down, in front of a tall building.

"I know this place very well," said Scrooge, smiling with relief. "The Exchange, it's like a second home to me. Here gold is worshipped and profit is everything."

The Spirit pointed ahead where three gentlemen stood under umbrellas. They were chuckling gleefully.

"No, I do not know much about it either way," one of them said. "I only know that he is dead."

"When?"

"Last night, I believe."

"Wonder what he died of?"

"I thought he would never go," said the first gentleman, which brought more laughter from all of them.

"Well, I do not know or care why he is gone," said the third, a portly gentleman. "I would just like to know what he has done with his money."

"That's right!"

"Wouldn't we all!"

"Gave it to his company, I suppose. Who else would he give it to?" and they laughed.

"I just know he didn't give it to me!"

"Nor me!"

"Nor me!"

"It's likely to be to cheap funeral," commented the first. "I don't know a single soul who would go to it."

"I wouldn't mind going to it," said the third, to the others' shock. "If lunch is provided!" and that brought even more laughter. "I insist on being fed for the time I will waste," and that brought much glee.

"Speaking of lunch..." and the three gentlemen walked off.

Scrooge looked up at the Spirit. "I know some of those gentlemen, Spirit. Have they no respect for the dead?"

"I suppose we should go," they heard the first man say. "After all, we did considerable business together."

"Let's just say, we will think about it," laughed the second man as they walked away.

"Why was I privy to that conversation?" Scrooge asked the Spirit. "What purpose could it serve for me? And where am I? Why am I not in my appointed place? I'm always here at this time of the day."

But the Spirit did not answer. Instead there was another bright flash of lightning and another loud clap of thunder, causing Scrooge to close his eyes. When he opened them, he found himself in the midst of a crowd. They were all standing in front of his own office. There the man who had sold Bob Cratchit the tuppence bottle of toddy and whom Scrooge had vowed to kick out of his shop on Christmas Day if he did not pay his rent, stood on a ladder, dusting off the brass sign that said "Scrooge and Marley."

"There you are, my friends,” he told the others in his Cockney accent. "Shining as bright as the ugly thoughts the mere mention of the name 'Scrooge' brings to our minds. But not no more. Not after the wondrous thing he has done for all of us." Then he turned on the ladder, so he could face them all. "Ladies and gentlemen. We are gathered here today, because we are united by a common bond," and everyone cheered. "Namely our feelings of gratitude to Mr. Ebenezer Scrooge!" and they cheered even louder. "I don't think any of us could ever hope to find the words to describe the true depth of our feeling towards him," and again they all cheered. "All right, my friends, all right!"

"That's Tom Jenkins!" cried Scrooge, walking towards him. "The toddy man. He owes me six pounds. I must say, he looks uncommonly happy for someone who is so deep in debt."

Scrooge kept walking, looking around him. "All of these people owe me. But they love me and I never knew!"

"Kindly hold down your emotions, if you please!" cried Tom. "Now we are all deeply moved. And those of us who have been in debt to Mr. S. over all these years will never forget what a rare and beautiful thing he has just done for us all, right?"

"RIGHT!" exclaimed everyone.

"Then three cheers for Mr. Scrooge!"

"YES!"

"Hip, hip"

"HOORAY!"

"What did I do?" asked Scrooge, forgetting they couldn't hear him.

"Hip, hip"

"HOORAY!"

"What did I do?"

"Hip, hip"

"HOORAY!"

By this point, Scrooge had reached the ladder, which Tom Jenkins had climbed down, and now stood in front.

"Whatever it was, it has made you all very happy, and I am the cause!" And climbing to the top of the ladder, he turned around to say, "My friends! I thank you from the bottom of my heart! I shall remember this moment until my dying day!"

And they all cheered. Not to Scrooge's speech, because, of course, they could not hear him, but because behind his back, Tom Jenkins was hanging a wreath upon the office door--the symbol of a death.

Then he led them in a loud, rousing chorus of "For he's a jolly good fellow," which Scrooge happily joined in.

Once they finished, Scrooge continued, "May I say in all humility...” and again they all cheered, because Tom Jenkins had just shown them Scrooge's infamous little black book and had torn out a bunch of pages.

"...I have labored unceasingly all my life..."

Again they cheered as more pages were ripped and thrown to the wind.

"...to be worthy of this moving demonstration of your feelings towards me."

And even louder cheers as Tom Jenkins ripped out two big handfuls and threw them to the wind, followed by the covers of the book.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" cried Tom Jenkins. "On behalf of all the people who have assembled here, I would merely like to mention if I may."

"YOU MAY!" and even Scrooge shouted it back.

"That our unanimous attitude is one of lasting gratitude for what our friend has done for us today! So we thank him most kindly for the nicest thing anyone has ever done for us!"

And again they all cheered as they walked off, once more singing "For he's a jolly good fellow."

"No, no, my dearest friends!" Scrooge cried after them. "It is I who should thank you!"

But as they walked away, he saw the Spirit, standing there, staring at him.

Scrooge froze in his spot. "I thank you for letting me see what these people think of me, Spirit, but I do not understand. What did I do to make these people so happy? And what does this have to do with the death that the men of business were talking about?"

Again the lightning flashed and the thunder blared.

When Scrooge opened his eyes, he found himself in a bedchamber, a bedchamber very much like his own. He found himself in front of a bed much like his own, but there were no bedcurtains hanging about the bed, no blankets, no nothing, just a sheet, covering a body.

"Merciful Heavens, what is this?" cried Scrooge. He began walking towards the bed. "Spirit. This is a fearful place. I wish to leave it."

Scrooge still had not realized that on these journeys with the Spirits, what he wished did not matter. There was a loud clap of thunder and the Spirit pointed at the bed.

Scrooge walked to the bed and began to reach towards the sheet where it covered what appeared to be the head. But when his hand was inches away, he pulled it back. "No, I will not. This you cannot make me do. I say I understand you. That is sufficient to the moment. Furthermore, there must be someone in this city who feels some emotion because of this man's death. I demand to see that person!"

This time Scrooge received his wish. Again there was thunder and lightning. When Scrooge opened his eyes, he was back out on the street in a dark, creepy part of the city, where bars and houses of ill-repute lined the street. The whole area reeked of crime, filth and misery. The snow poured down as a cold sleet.

"This is a most foul part of town! You must have made a mistake, Spirit; taken a wrong turn."

But the Spirit pointed at the doorway of a rundown building. Scrooge slowly walked towards it. He stopped at the doorway and looked back at the Spirit. "In there? I have no business to transact in there."

The Spirit merely continued to point, and Scrooge walked in. He entered a shop where iron, old rags, bottles and bones were bought. Sitting among the wares he dealt in was a gray-haired rascal, who smoked his pipe peacefully.

No sooner was Scrooge in the shop, than his very own housekeeper, Mrs. Dilber, whom he had inherited from Jacob Marley, slunk into the shop, carrying a large bundle. She had scarcely entered when Mrs. Riggs, a laundress, also one whose services Scrooge had employed, also came in. She was closely followed by Mr. Crump, the very undertaker one who had taken care of Jacob Marley. He was no less startled by the sight of them, than they had been upon seeing each other. After a short period of blank astonishment, they all burst out laughing.

"How's it going, Joe?" Mrs. Dilber asked.

Old Joe laughed. "So, back from the house of sadness, I see."

"Hmph," declared Mrs. Riggs. "Sad that he didn't die years ago, the old skinflint!"

"Well, let me see. What have you got for old Joe? What have you got for me to remember him by?"

"You won't ask how we come about these, will you, Joe?" asked Mrs. Dilber.

"Every person has a right to take care of himself," replied Old Joe. "That's my motto."

"Well, he always did," Mrs. Riggs pointed out, and they all cackled with glee.
.
"Yes, He did," agreed Old Joe.

"And who's the worse for the loss of a few things?" Mrs. Riggs asked. "Not a dead man, I suppose."

"No, indeed," agreed Old Joe.

"I mean, if he'd want to keep them after he was dead, the wicked old screw, why wasn't he more easy-like in his lifetime?" Mrs. Dilber asked.

"If he had been," said Mr. Crump, "He would've had someone to look after him when he was struck with death, instead of lying there, gasping out his last..alone..by himself."

"Yeah, Mr. Crump, that's true, but now all of you, open up your bags. I'm not about to pay fer goods unseen!"

"Undo my bundle first, Joe," said Mrs. Dilber, pushing it forward. "Tell me what the value is." As Old Joe began opening it, she added. "Now speak plain. I'm not afraid to go first. We knew pretty well we were helping ourselves before we met."

"It's no sin," Mrs. Riggs insisted.

"Only if we get caught," laughed Mr. Crump, and the others cackled, too, a sound that was like nails on a chalkboard to Scrooge's ears.

"No chance of that," said Mrs. Dilber. "Nobody cared what happened to him then or now. Open the bundle now, Joe."

"No, ladies," said Mr. Crump. "Mine first. It's the smallest." And he handled a small bundle to Old Joe, who opened it, slowly.

"Meager pickings, Mr. Crump. A pencil case. Two sleeve buttons"

"Mother of pearl," Mr. Crump pointed out.

"Yes, and a watch, of no great value." He held up the watch, listening to the clock's tick and to its chime.

Scrooge looked very carefully at that watch; it looked very familiar, very familiar indeed. "That's my watch! And those are my things! He has stolen my things! I will have him before a magistrate!"

"Seven shillings?" offered Old Joe.

"Done!" agreed Mr. Crump, and taking the money, he stepped back.

"Me next, Joe," said Mrs. Riggs, and she pushed the bundle towards him.

Old Joe set in on the floor, opened it, then began taking out its contents. "One sheet. Four towels. An old shirt. Ah, teaspoons! Sugar tongs! And an old pair of boots. In need of repair. Well, now." Standing up, he picked up a piece of chalk and began writing figures on the wall. "One pound, one shilling and, uh, eight pence, Mrs. Riggs."

"One pound, one shilling and eight pence!" she cried in disgust.

"I always give too much to the ladies," Old Joe told her. "It's a weakness of mine. If you ask for one penny more, I'll relent and knock off five shillings!"

So Mrs. Riggs reluctantly took her one pound, one shilling and eight pence.

"Those also looked like my things!" cried Scrooge. "This is an outrage!"

"Open my bundle, Joe!" demanded Mrs. Dilber.

Old Joe opened it and reached in to pull out, "Bedcurtains!"

"Bedcurtains!" agreed Mrs. Dilber, cackling evilly. "Rings and all!"

"You took them down with him lying there cold?" gasped Old Joe.

"I did it, and why not?"

"You were born to make a fortune, Mrs. Dilber."

"I don't hold my hand back when I can get something in it by reaching out. There are blankets in here, too."

Old Joe gasped. "His blankets! Why, Mrs. Dilber, they're still warm! I don't pay extra for the warmth, you now!"

"You should!" declared Mrs. Dilber. "It's the only warmth he ever had!" which caused wicked laughter from all of them.

"And those appear to be my blankets!" cried Scrooge. "And Mrs. Dilber is my housekeeper! I shall have her fired!"

Old Joe refused to touch the blankets. "I hope he didn't die of anything catching."

"Oh, don't be afraid of that. I wasn't so fond of his company that I'd loiter about him for anything like that, if he did!"

Last Old Joe drew a shirt out of the bag.

"Look at that shirt, Joe! Finest bit of silk you'll see in a month of Sundays." She laughed. "It would've been wasted if it wasn't for me."

"What do you mean?" asked Mr. Crump. "Wasted?"

"Some fool put it on him to get buried in. So I took it off again. Calico's good enough for him!" and again they all cackled gleefully.

"No, they can not be mine!" cried Scrooge. "They look very much like mine, but they are not mine." Then he turned away from this dreadful scene. "I understand, Spirit. The case of this unhappy man might be my own. My life tends that way now. Merciful Heavens," and his voice began breaking up. "Let me see some tenderness connected with a death or I will be haunted by that terrible conversation forever."

Again the lightning shone and the thunder blasted.

This time when Scrooge opened his eyes, they were on a familiar street, standing by a familiar house.

"It's Bob Cratchit's house!” cried Scrooge in surprised delight. "Oh, yes, Spirit! Thank you for bringing me here!" Scrooge ran towards the house, then stopped. "It's so quiet. Why is it so quiet, Spirit?"

The Spirit pointed at the window.

Scrooge glared. "You are devilishly hard to have a conversation with." Then he walked over and looked in. There Emily Cratchit sat in a chair, attempting to mend a shirt. She was surrounded by all of her children, except Peter and Tiny Tim, whom Scrooge figured must be with his father again. Scrooge was surprised to hear sniffling from Emily Cratchit.

Close by, Peter sat at a table, a large book opened in front of him. "Suffer the little children to come onto me and forbid them not for such is the kingdom of God. Verily, I say unto you, whosoever shall not receive the kingdom of God as a little child, he shall not enter therein."

Martha looked up at her mother. "Oh, Mother, you are crying again."

Emily Cratchit looked up, her eyes red. "No, this color hurts my eyes." And she looked down, snuffling again, while the children also starting crying.

"No!" cried Scrooge. " No! Not Tiny Tim!"

Emily Cratchit took a deep breath and looked up again. "There now. Uh, this work makes my eyes get weak...in the dim light ...and I would not want to show weak eyes...to your father...when he gets home...for anything in the world. H-he should be back now."

"I think he is walking a little slower...these past...two...evenings," said Peter as he slowly closed the book.

"And yet," snuffled his mother. "I have seen him walk home with...with Tiny Tim on his shoulders very fast indeed."

"And so have I," said Martha.

"As have I," said Peter.

"And have I," said the twins in unison, while young Kathy simply nodded.

"He was very light to carry, and your father loved him so. It was no trouble." All of the children shook their heads in agreement, tears in their eyes. "No trouble at all."

Just then, the door opened and Bob Cratchit slowly walked in. "Hello, my dears. Merry Christmas."

The children quickly ran to their father. "Daddy!"

"Hello, girls. Hello, Peter."

Emily Cratchit also walked over and hugged him, "Go set the table, children." As they walked off, she turned to her husband. "How was the churchyard?"

"It will be lovely, Emily. It would have done you good to see how green the place is. You shall see it on Sunday." He looked at his children. "You shall all see it on Sunday. I...I promised him that every Sunday I would walk by." He buried his head in his wife's shoulder. "My little child. Oh, my little, little child," and weeping, he walked up the stairs.

The Spirit pointed up the stairs, so Scrooge followed Bob into a small bedroom. On a small bed lie Tiny Tim. Everywhere there were candles lit.

Bob sank to his knees and took his child's hand in his. "There, Tim. There, Tim," he said, patting Tim's hand. "Don't be afraid. We will always love you. Always." Leaning over, Bob kissed Tiny Tim's forehead, then slowly rose and walked back downstairs.

Scrooge stayed upstairs near Tim, his own heart breaking, before the Spirit pointed back down the stairs.

There Emily had an arm around her husband, leading him towards the fire, head down, sniffling again.

"Father," begged Peter, looking up from where he was helping Martha and the twins set the table. "Please do not grieve so."

"Oh, I'm sorry," as he picked up Kathy, settling his youngest living child on his lap as he sat on the chair by the fire. "I have all of you. A blessing to be thankful for." He then took a deep breath and told them all, "I-I picked a spot for Tim where he can see...Uh, it's a spot on the hill. And you can see...the ducks...on the river. Tiny...Tim..." and he began to choke up.

"Tiny Tim always loved watching the ducks on the river," Emily took over. Bob nodded and they both looked down, trying to hold back their tears.

Then Bob stood up, setting Kathy down and walked towards his only living son. "Do you know who I saw on the street today? Your employer, Peter--Mr. Scrooge's nephew, Fred. He greeted me in his usual cheerful way, and he saw that I was sad. He asked me what was distressing me, and do you know what he said?"

"What did he say?" asked Emily.

" 'I am heartily sorry for it, Bob, and heartily sorry for your good wife.' Then young Fred gives me his card and says 'That is where I live, Bob. Come and visit us.' I was grateful, not for anything that he would do for us, so much as his kindly ways. It really seemed as if he has known our Tim and felt for us."

"He sounds a good soul."

"You would be sure of it, if you met him, Emily. I am sure that we will never...forget...our Tiny Tim, will we?"

"No, Father," agreed all the children.

"And, uh," and he turned to poke at the fire.

Emily walked over to him. "Robert..." She hugged him, then turned back to her children. "Timmy is part of all of us. For his sake, we must go on living. So long as we love one another, he will always be alive."

"Of course you are correct, my dear."

Scrooge walked back to the Spirit, wiping tears from his own cheeks. "Oh, Spirit. Must there be a Christmas that brings this awful scene? How can we endure it?"

Then he heard Bob's sniffle. "It's all right, children."

Confused, Scrooge went back to the window, where he could see the Cratchits sitting around the table, all of the children looking unbelievingly at their father.

"Life is made up of meetings and partings. That is the way of it. I am sure we shall never forget poor Tiny Tim or this first parting that there was among us." And as they all began to cry again, they all turned to look at the lonely crutch, carefully preserved, lying on the little chair next to the fire.

Scrooge turned to look at the Spirit. "I asked for tenderness and depth of feeling. and you have shown me this." He shook his head. "Nothing more I need to see. Take me home."

Again the lightning flashed and the thunder rolled.

When Scrooge opened his eyes, he saw that once more, his wish to return home had been denied. He was in the middle of a dark, lonely churchyard, perhaps the one where Tiny Tim would soon rest.

Thunder continued to crash, while the snow continued to fall, now in huge clumps.

"What is this?" he asked. "I thought we agreed that you would transport me home."

The Spirit began walking, pointing towards the other side of the churchyard. "Spirit, must we come to this place?" The Spirit kept walking. "There is something else that I must know. Is that not true?" The Spirit kept walking. "Spirit, I know what I must ask. I fear to...but I must. Tell me, what man was that whom we saw lying dead? Who was the wretched man whose death brought so much glee and happiness to others?"

The Spirit pointed at a tombstone, covered in snow.

Scrooge began walking towards it, then stopped and turned to look back at the Spirit. "Answer me one more question--Are these the shadows of things that will be or are they the shadows of things that may be only?"

He was only answered by the howling wind and the rumbling thunder and the Spirit pointing at the tombstone.

Again Scrooge began to walk towards it, but then again he turned back, now his voice breaking up. "Men's courses will foreshadow certain ends. I..I accept that now. But if those courses be departed from, the ends must change. Tell me that is so by what you and the other Spirits have shown me. Tell me that these events can be changed...A life can be made right...” But the thunder merely crashed and the Spirit merely pointed.

Now Scrooge walked to the tombstone and knelt down on the snow-covered grave. Wiping away the snow, he uncovered his own name. He gasped in horror and began to cry. "Ebenezer Scrooge! Oh, please, Spirit, no! Hear me! I-I am not the man I was. I will not be the man I must have been but for these visitations."

He stood up and turned to look at the Spirit, tears turning into icicles on his cheeks. "Why would you show me this if I were past all hope? I-I will honor Christmas and try to keep it all the year."

Crying harder, the tears rolling down his cheeks he walked to the Spirit, grabbing his arm. "I will live my life in the past, present and future. I will not shut out the lessons the Spirits have taught me. The spirits of all three shall strive within me."

Now he sank to his knees, grabbing the Spirit's robe. "Oh, Spirit, please speak comfort to me! Say that I may change these things with an altered life. Tell me that I may sponge out the writing on this stone!"

But the robe slipped away from Scrooge's hand as he heard a roaring sound behind him. When he looked behind, he saw that the stone of the grave was now gone and a yawning, deep, dark hole was there. Near the bottom was an open casket with Scrooge's dead body lying there.

Yelling in fear, he turned to the Spirit for help, but the hood of its robe was now pushed back and its skeleton face could be seen. Now Scrooge screamed in terror, but the Spirit's skeleton hand reached from the robe and shoved Scrooge into the hole where he found himself lying on top of his own dead body. He screamed and screamed and screamed.

When he opened his eyes, still yelling, "Help, help, help!" he realized that the chains were much softer. Looking down he was surprised to see that they looked more like sheets, his sheets, now twisted and wrapped around his throat, chaining him to his own bedpost! "Where am I?" he asked, confused.

He looked around, his eyes growing large in amazement. "I'm in my own room! I'm not in Hell at all! I have not got any chains!" and he quickly unwrapped the sheet from around his throat. "Perhaps I only dreamed it. Perhaps it did not happen after all!"

He stared at his bedpost and remembered being chained to that cold desk. "Perhaps it did. But I am alive. I'm alive! Jacob Marley and Christmas be praised!" and he fell to his knees. "I say it on my knees, Jacob, on my knees."

Then he jumped up onto his bed and grabbed his bedcurtains. "Oh, they are here! They are not torn down, rings and all! They are here!" and feeling his face, he cried, "And I am here! The shadows of the things that would have been can be dispelled! And they will! They will be! I know they will!"

Suddenly he opened his mouth, trying to make a certain sound. But it would not come up. He tried harder and harder, soon choking, but that is not the noise he was trying to make. Now the choke sounded a little more like a chuckle. Now it sounded even more like a chuckle. Now it truly sounded like a real chuckle, the first one he'd uttered in years. Now it became a real live belly laugh, as he laughed and laughed and laughed until the tears rolled down his cheeks.

"I don't know what day it is. I don't know how long I have been with the Spirits. I don't know anything! But I do know that I have got a chance to change, and I will not be the man I was. I'll begin again! I'll rebuild my life. I will live to know I fulfilled my life. I will begin today," and he began standing, climbing up the bedpost as he did. "Throw away the past. And the future I build will be something that will last!"

Just then, there was a knock at the door. Grabbing his blankets and wrapping them around himself, he opened the door to find Mrs. Dilber.

"Good morning, sir," she said, as she came in and began pouring his coffee, as she did every morning.

"Tell me. What day is it?"

"What day? Why it's Christmas Day, of course, sir. Christmas Day!"

"Christmas Day? Christmas Day! Then I have not missed it. The Spirits must have done everything in one night! But, of course, they can do anything, can't they? Of course they can!"

And laughing, he ran to the window to look out, then ran to the mirror, laughing even harder at his reflection.

Mrs. Dilber, who was following him, staring at him in disbelief, asked, "Are you quite yourself, sir?"

"What? I do not know. No, I-I don't think so. I hope not!"

"What?!"

He ran to his bed. "You did not tear down my bedcurtains and sell them! They are still here!"

"Huh? What do you mean, sir?"

But Scrooge was not listening. "They are here. Everything is here. I am here!" and laughing even harder, he cried out, "I-I-I do not know what to do! It's a miracle! I'm as light as a feather!" and he jumped around happily. "I'm as happy as a...I am as happy as an angel!" and he began skipping around. "I'm as merry as a school boy!" and holding his head. "I'm as giddy...I'm as giddy as a drunken man, I never..." and turning around, he found himself facing the mirror again, so he wished himself, "A Merry Christmas, Ebenezer, you old humbug!" while Mrs. Dilber stared at him as if he had lost all of his senses. He started to walk away from the mirror, but then came back to say. "And a Happy New Year! As if you deserve it!"

Then he grabbed Mrs. Dilber's hands, making her scream in fear, as he told her, "A Merry Christmas, Mrs. Dilber!"

"Same to you, sir!"

"Well, thank you, thank you, thank you!" he cried, jumping up and down as he said it, making her do the same. "And many, many more of them!" as now she screeched in terror.

He was not listening. Instead he ran into the next room. "Look, Mrs. Dilber! There in the corner is where the Spirit of Christmas Present sat! And there is the door where the Ghost of Jacob Marley came through. And there is the window where I saw the wandering spirits. It's right! It's true! It all happened! I never did know anything." And laughing, he added, "But now I know that I did not know anything!" And laughing harder, he jumped up and down again, then began dancing around, chanting, "I do not know anything! I do not know anything! I never did know anything! But now I know that I do not know all the Christmas morning! I must stand on my head! I must stand on my head!" and going to the chair, he stood on his head on the seat of the chair!

That was much too much for poor Mrs. Dilber. Screaming in terror, she threw her apron over her head and ran out the door!

"Come back!" cried Scrooge as he chased her. "Come back!"

Still screaming, she ran down the stairs while he chased her, still begging her to come back. He finally caught up to her halfway down the stairs. Grabbing her, he sat down on the stairs, bringing her down with him, while she screamed still louder. "Sh, please, Mrs. Dilber. I am not mad. Even if I was..." and reaching up, he fluffed his hair and looked at her cross-eyed.

She screamed even louder, now terrified, as she begged, "Don't be violent, Mr. Scrooge. You'll force me to scream for the beadle!"

"The beadle, madam?" Scrooge asked. "A fig for the beadle!" and reaching under his nightshirt, he brought out the drawbag he wore around his neck. Opening it, he handed her something.

"A guinea?" she asked. "Here, what for?"

"I will give you one guess."

"To keep my mouth shut?"

"What?" Then he began laughing again. "To keep your mouth shut? Oh, no! No, no, no, Mrs. Dilber. It's for a Christmas present."

"A Christmas present? For me?"

"Of course, for you! A merry, Merry Christmas," and he kissed her on the forehead. "Dear Mrs. Dilber. How much do I pay you?"

"Two shillings a week."

"Two shillings? It is forthwith raised to ten!"

"Ten shillings a week, here? You sure you don't want to see a doctor?"

"A doctor? Certainly not! Nor the undertaker! Ha! Now off you go and enjoy yourself. Like a good girl."

"Bob's your uncle!" she cried in delight. Then laughing herself, she ran down the rest of the stairs, only to turn back and say, "Merry Christmas, Mr. Scrooge! In keeping with the situation!"

"Oh, very well, then!" and as she ran off, he ran back into his rooms, where he could now hear the bells ringing. At the sound of the bells, he threw open the window and stuck his head out. "No fog. No mist. Clear! Bright! Cold!" and he shivered, tightening his robe around him. "Cold. Piping for the blood to dance to." And looking out, he saw a boy pulling a sled.

"Hello, my fine young fellow."

"Hello."

"Do you know the butchers in the next street but one?"

"I should hope so."

"What a remarkable boy! An intelligent boy! Do you happen to know if they have sold the prized turkey that was hanging up in the window? Not the big one, the enormous one?"

"What? You mean the one that's as big as me?"

"What a wonderful boy! So witty! It's a pleasure to talk to him! Yes, that's the one!" as again he began pulling the bag that hung around his neck.

"It's still there!"

"It is?! Go and buy it!"

"Forget it!"

Scrooge opened the bag and threw down some coins. "No, my fine fellow, I am quite serious. There are two sovereigns. Go and wake up the butcher and tell him to open his shop. Meet me there in ten minutes. Be holding that turkey and I will give you half a crown! Go on! Run!" and the boy darted off, with Scrooge exhorting him to run faster.

Scrooge laughed as the boy turned a corner out of view. "Oh, what a lovely boy! I think I'm going to like children!"

He pulled his head back in, then ran to the fireplace and looked up it, crying, "Oh, Jacob Marley, wherever you are! You shall see a change in me, Jacob! I swear it!" and then throwing some clothes on, he ran out the door, leaping in the air as he ran out the hall, then he leaped onto the stairwell and slid down it, something he had not done since he was just a lad at the boarding school, screaming in glee as he did.

Then he hurried himself off to the poultry shop just as quickly as he could.

"Here's the man," the boy told Scrooge as he pointed to the butcher. "And there's the turkey. Now where's my half-a-crown?"

"Now that is what I call a turkey!" Scrooge declared as the butcher set the large bird on the boy's sled. "It's twice the size of Tiny Tim! And here is your half-a-crown," as he handed it to the boy. "Now, come on, dear boy! Let us go and open the toy shop!" and he ran to the front of the sled, grabbing the rope, motioning the boy to sit on the sled, and he ran off, pulling the sled, crying out, "Thank you! Merry Christmas!" to the surprised, amazed butcher and his wife.

Soon Scrooge and the boy were inside the same toy shop whose window Tiny Tim had pressed his nose against just the evening before. "I'll take that doll," Scrooge decided, "and that one," pointing to another one, "and some bow and arrows and that fishing pole and some of those toy soldiers and then some flutes and some trumpets and, oh, yes, I must have a cricket bat and ball! And, yes, that merry-go-round!"

Scrooge kept finding more and more items, adding them to the stack in the toymaker's arms. Finally he asked, "And how much is all of that?" The man tried to calculate it, but could not with his arms full.

Scrooge did not care. "Oh, never mind. Here are some sovereigns, and you can keep the change!"

"Oh, thank you, Mr. Scrooge! Now I may pay you my rent!"

"Oh, do not worry about that! Don't worry about that until at least next month!"

"Well, thank you very, very much, Mr. Scrooge!"

"And I shall require the services of several small boys to help transport these delightful objects to their destination. And each boy shall receive half-a-crown!" He turned to the boy,who he now recognized as one of the boys who were part of the snowball fight that had meant the destruction of his hat. "The same goes with those friends of yours!"

"Yes, sir! Watch the turkey, while I run to find them!" and the boy darted off.

Then the toymaker had to ask. "Mr. Scrooge? What has happened?"

"Well, what has happened, it's perfectly simple, Mr. Pringle. I have discovered that I like life and life likes me! And I love Christmas!"

Soon Scrooge was surround by a bunch of happy boys, each with a half-crown in his pocket and each holding a bunch of Scrooge's purchases. On the turkey was another label, this one included the address of the Cratchits.

"All right!" cried Scrooge. "And we're off!" and down the street they went, singing Christmas carols and having a grand old time.

They stopped off at the wine shop, where Scrooge brought a bunch of bottles, handing them out to everyone he saw. Then they ran into a bunch of children sliding on a patch of ice. "Oh!"cried Scrooge. "Let me! Let me!" and he ran and slid down the ice, with all of the children laughing merrily, laughing even harder when he ran into the bunch of them and pushed them all down, landing on top of them. But they helped him up and picked up the purchases, as they continued on their merry way.

Soon they ran into a bunch of men who were dancing as they played their pipes. Of course, Scrooge had to join in and dance along, while everyone clapped in time.

Then Scrooge spot something in a different window. It was a Father Christmas costume. Scrooge knew what he had to do. Soon he was dressed in the costume, having the boys throw all of his purchases into his bag before he began happily throwing them out again back to the boys who had helped him and the other children who had followed. Then he flung the sack onto his back and hopped on the sled next to the turkey. With the boys as reindeers, he was soon flying along the street on his way.

Soon he was standing in front in of Bob Cratchit's house. At the window, all of the Cratchit children were staring in awe. "Father Christmas" laughed as he tapped on the window, then opened the door. "Merry Christmas to you, sir," he told Bob Cratchit. "From Father Christmas himself!"

Just then Emily Cratchit walked up, holding the platter with the goose. She screamed in shock and dropped the goose. "Oh, dear!"

"Don't worry about your goose, Mrs. Cratchit," "Father Christmas" told her. "You can use it as stuffing for this!" and reaching behind him, he brought forth the prize turkey, which he handed to the very shocked Bob Cratchit.

"Now where are those other presents?" he asked his helpers. As they handed them to him, he handed them to the Cratchit children. "This dolly is for you, my dear," he told Belinda. "And this one that looks just like her is for you," and he handed that one to Bettina. "And this pretty little dolly is for you," he told Kathy.

"It's the dolly in the toy shop!" cried little Kathy. "The one I've always wanted!"

"Father Christmas" laughed. "Yes it is. And this muff will keep you warm at that workshop!" he told Martha, and she cried out in delight.

"And this bat and ball is for you!" as he handed them to Peter, who grabbed the bat and began swinging it with gusto.

Meanwhile, Tiny Tim stood by his siblings, smiling happily as each received a gift.

"And these, Bob Cratchit, are for you and your good lady!" as he handed a bottle of wine and some wrapped presents to Emily Cratchit.

"I must leave you now," he told them. "As you can imagine, it's a busy day for me and I have many calls to make." As he spoke, Tiny Tim's pale little face fell.

"Father Christmas" began going out the door, and Tiny Tim looked ready to cry, but "Father Christmas" was back. "Oh, I almost forgot!" He was holding the carousel, which he sat down next to the now-beaming boy. "This is for you, Tiny Tim!"

Tiny Tim looked it over, then looked up, "You didn't steal it, did you?"

"Father Christmas" laughed as he knelt down next to the sick little boy. "No, I didn't steal it. It's a present for you to keep!" and he stood up, lifting the boy in his arms as he did. "A Merry Christmas to you, Tiny Tim!"

"Oh, yes!" cried the boy. "God bless us!"

And both he and "Father Christmas" declared, "Yes, God bless us, every one!"

Then setting the boy down, "Father Christmas" said, "May this be the Merriest Christmas of all our lives!"

As he began to walk out, Bob asked, "But, sir, truly, who sent all these wonderful things?"

"Father Christmas" smiled. "He wishes to remain anonymous. Merry Christmas, one and all!" and off he went.

Bob turned back to his family.

"Anonymous, he says," and Emily Cratchit shook her head. "Who could have sent it?"

"I have no idea," replied Bob.

"It's a mistake," insisted Peter.

"That's what I thought," Bob agreed.

"But look," exclaimed Martha. "There's a label on the turkey and it has our name and address on it!"

"I think I know who sent it," said Tiny Tim.

"Who?" asked the rest of his family.

"Mr. Scrooge," he replied with a smile. "I think that was Mr. Scrooge!"

"Oh, dear; oh, dear!" cried his mother. "Whatever made you think it might be him?"

"I don't know," admitted the small boy. "I just think it."

"What would make Mr. Scrooge take such leave of his senses suddenly?" asked his father.

Tiny Tim looked up and smiled. "Christmas."

"No," insisted Bob. "Mr. Scrooge thinks Christmas is a humbug. It could not have been him," and Tiny Tim simply smiled.

"What shall we do with the turkey?" asked Bettina.

Emily Cratchit grinned. "I say we cook it and eat it and have the best Christmas feast we have ever had in our lives!"

"And I say, Mrs. Cratchit," declared Bob. "What a splendid idea!"

"And God bless us all!" added Tiny Tim. "Every one!"

His family looked back at him. "And God bless us all, every one!"

Meanwhile "Father Christmas" was not done. He wandered back to the middle of Camden Town, where just the previous evening, he was telling all of the shopkeepers that they would have to pay their rent the next day or be thrown out of their shops.

Taking off the cap and the beard, so they would certainly know it was him, he cried out, "Tom Jenkins! Tom Jenkins! About that six pounds you owe me!"

The toddy man looked very frightened. "You agreed to give me a couple more days, Mr. Scrooge! I just need--"

"You can keep it!" Scrooge called out. "It's my Christmas present to you!"

Tom grabbed Scrooge's hand, shaking it joyfully. "God bless you this Christmas day, Mr. Scrooge! Thank you very much! It's the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me!" and everyone cheered.

And taking out his little black book, Scrooge hopped up on a bench and began ripping out pages. "And that goes for anyone else who owes me money! You can keep it! As of this day, all my debts are ended!" and he began ripping up pages and throwing them in the air like confetti, finally throwing the book itself away.

Now everyone cheered as they began singing, "For he's a jolly good fellow," while Scrooge sang right along with them.

After everyone had shook his hand and thanked him and wished him Merry Christmas, Scrooge told them that he had other places to visit. First he headed for home, still singing "For He's A Jolly Good Fellow," not feeling like he had the right to feel as good as he did, but glad that he was feeling it anyway.

When he reached his own door, he told the knocker, "Hello" as he polished it. "I do not know whether you can hear me, old Jacob Marley, and I do not know whether or not I imagined the things I saw, but between the pair of us," and he reached in his pocket to find the Father Christmas hat inside it. "we...we finally made a merry Christmas, didn't we?" and he set the hat on the knocker-lion's head, then bringing out the beard from another pocket, he set that on the lion, too. "I have to leave you now. I am hoping to have dinner with my family. I must get ready."

And a few minutes later, now dressed in his very finest, Scrooge appeared back on the streets of the city to wish Merry Christmas to all the world. Everyone was out and about on this fine Christmas morning.

As he walked along, he found some children building a snowman. "A fine snowman!" he complimented them. A fine snowman, indeed!" As he walked away, the children picked up some snowballs and threw it at Scrooge, so Scrooge grabbed the snowballs and threw them right back! "Ha! Ha! Gotcha!" he cried in delight as they ran back to their snowman.

As he kept walking, growing closer to his nephew Fred's home, he could hear the church bells and hear people singing, "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen."

Following the sound, he was soon in church, the first time in decades. After the usher gestured him to remove his hat, a practice Scrooge had long forgotten, the usher led him to a pew. There a woman gladly shared her songbook and he happily, loudly, lustily, sang along: "To save us all from Satan's power, when we had gone astray! Oh, tidings of comfort and joy!"

Oh, yes, thought Scrooge. Oh, yes! and he put another sovereign into the collection plate.

Afterwards, he wished everyone Merry Christmas, thanked the parson for the fine sermon, then put some coins in the cups of the children singing carols on the church step. "Like angels," he complimented them. "Yes, you sing excellently well."

"Thank you, sir!" one of them said. "Merry Christmas, sir!"

"No, it is I who thanks you for that glorious music on this glorious Christmas Day," and he continued on his way, wishing Merry Christmas to everyone he met and cheerfully receiving wishes in return.

Then he saw two familiar faces, the gentlemen whom he had seen the previous day. "Oh, gentlemen! Merry Christmas to you."

"Mr. Scrooge?" asked the short one, making it sound as if he were eating a piece of very sour fruit, while the taller one glared at him.

"Yes, that is my name. I feel it's not pleasant to you. Allow me to beg your pardons and please accept my pledge for the poor and needy for, uh," and he whispered an amount into the short one's ear.

"Lord bless me!" he cried in happy surprise, as he whispered the amount to his companion, before turning back to Scrooge. "My dear Mr. Scrooge, are you quite serious?"

Scrooge nodded. "And not a farthing less. There's a great many back payments in that, I assure you."

"What can I say to such generosity? I just wish there was something we could give you."

Then the taller one reached up and took the bright red scarf from his neck and offered it to Scrooge.

"A gift?" he asked and the man nodded.. "A gift for me?" and again he nodded as he handed it to Scrooge. Scrooge wrapped it around his neck, looking down to see how it brightened his outfit and made it complete. "Thank you. Thank you fifty times. And a Merry Christmas!" and they returned the greeting, while Scrooge continued on, now a merry jaunt to his step.

As he drew near the house again, he could hear his niece-in-law playing the piano, while everyone was singing, "Dreadfully Shy", which Scrooge was certain Topper was singing to lovely Miss Betsy with that certain gleam in his eyes, that would make everyone laugh. He stood, listening, longing to go in and be part of the warmth and the joy and the laughter, but not certain if he would be welcomed. Much like the song, he also felt very shy, and he began walking past the door.

But then he could hear the voice of the Spirit of Christmas Present: "You should have accepted Fred's invitation to dine. For Fan's sake, if not for yours."

Turning around, he said aloud, "For you, dear little Fan," and he ran to the door before he could change his mind and tapped his cane on the door. A maid opened it and let him in, where he could hear the singing coming from the parlor. Taking off his scarf and his hat and his coat and handing them to the maid, he slowly walked to the door of the parlor. He started to open the door, but then stopped and turned around. The maid, who was watching him, nodded encouragingly. So he slowly opened the door.

They continued to sing until they heard the door open and looked up. Suddenly there was a shocked silence in the room.

Jumping up, Fred ran to his uncle. "Uncle Ebenezer!"

"Is it too late to accept your invitation to dinner? Will you have me, Fred?"

"Well, bless my soul! Of course, we will!"

And walking up to Janet, he asked, "And you, my dear, can you forgive a stupid old man who does not want to be left out in the cold anymore? Will you take me in?"

She stood up, looking at him carefully, then finally smiling, she kissed him on the cheek. "Merry Christmas, Uncle!"

"May I speak with you, Fred? With you and your lovely wife?"

"Of course," replied Janet. "Mrs. Bennett, please keep playing. The rest of you, please continue to make merry. We shall return shortly," and she and Fred led Scrooge into the living room.

There, Fred made the proper introduction. "Janet, this is my Uncle Ebenezer Scrooge. Uncle Ebenezer, this is my wife, Janet."

"A pleasure," smiled Janet.

"A pleasure?" asked Scrooge. "More like a surprise, wouldn't you say?"

She smiled. "Well, that, too."

"Yes, it's that," agreed Fred. "When we spoke yesterday, you made it quite clear, it seemed to me, at least, that you had no intention of accepting my annual invitation."

"I made other things clear, too, didn't I, Fred? That Christmas is a humbug, a waste of time and money, a false and commercial festival devoutly to be ignored."

"Yes, basically, that was it."

"I come for three reasons, Fred. First, to beg your pardon for the things I said about Christmas. That was a humbug, Fred."

"Was it?"

"Yes. I did not know it then, but I know it now. Secondly, I have come to meet your wife."

"Well, here she is," and Janet smiled.

"Yes. And a beautiful woman she is, too."

Janet blushed. "Thank you."

"I, uh, I was in love once. Would you believe that?" he asked her.

She looked at him carefully. "Yes. Yes, Uncle Ebenezer, I would."

"But I possessed neither the courage nor the optimism, perhaps the depth of feelings that you two have. Thirdly, if the invitation to dine with you today is still in force, I accept."

"Of course, it's still in force!" cried Fred. "Hoorah! I was sure that one day--"

"You were sure that one day I would accept, were you? Well, apparently, you were correct. Yes, I should liked to dine with you and your friends."

"You will be more than welcomed," smiled Janet. "Come and meet our other guests!"

"You like games, do you?" Scrooge asked her.

She gave him a strange look, then smiled. "Yes. Yes, as a matter of fact, I do."

"Do you ever play Similes?"

Again she smiled. "It's one of our favorites."

"Perhaps we can play today."

She nodded. "Quite possibly."

"I am very good at it. And should the phrase 'tight as' be thrown out, the answer is 'a drum'."

She looked at him strangely before laughing. "Why, yes, so it is."

Then he turned back to Fred. "Forgive me for saying this, but I see the shadow of my sister in your face. I loved your mother, Fred. For a time there, I..I forgot just how much I loved her. Perhaps I chose to forget."

"But you don't forget now, Uncle. Come, let us introduce you to our guests!"

"You have made us so very happy, Uncle Ebenezer!" declared Janet.

"Have I?"

"Yes," replied Fred.

He put an arm around both of them as they headed back towards the parlor. "God forgive me for the time I have wasted."

Janet looked at Fred. "Shall we tell him?"

Fred smiled. "Yes, we shall. Uncle Ebenezer, we will have a very, very small surprise for you before next summer is over."

Scrooge's eyes grew large as he caught Fred's meaning. "Will I indeed? Well, I shall be a great-uncle--a very great great-uncle!" and they all laughed.

Once they walked into the parlor and Fred proudly introduced his uncle to all of his guests, Topper cried out to Mrs. Bennett at the piano, "Polka, Mrs. Bennett! Polka!" and as she began playing it, Janet grabbed her new-found uncle and began dancing around with him.

"Bravo, Uncle Ebenezer! Bravo!" cried Fred. "Now everybody!" and soon everyone was dancing, no one more happily than Ebenezer Scrooge.

The next morning, Scrooge just barely beat Bob Cratchit to the office. Quickly taking off his outer garments, he ran to his desk and tried to look busy, still looking like a young child getting ready to play a trick on his mates. "Nine o'clock," he laughed to himself. "Late again, Cratchit! Well, we will see about that!"

No sooner was he at his desk, than Bob, panting from over-exertion as he had run as fast as he could to try to make it on time, came sneaking in through the door.

A sly grin on his face, Scrooge put his own head down and pretended to work.

Bob slowly and quietly took off his hat and scarf and put them on the coatrack, while Scrooge kept taking sly glances. He waited until Bob tried pussy-footing over to his desk before yelling, "CRATCHIT! YOU'RE LATE!"

"Sir?"

Keeping his head down to hide his grin, Scrooge roared, "WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY COMING IN HERE THIS TIME OF DAY?"

"I am very, very sorry, sir. I am behind in my time, sir."

"YOU ARE INDEED! STEP THIS WAY, MR. CRATCHIT!"

And very slowly, Bob walked, pleading, "It's only once a year, sir. It will not be repeated. I was making rather merry yesterday, sir."

Scrooge laughed. "I am sure you were. Well, WE WILL NOT BEAT ABOUT THE BUSH," and he looked up. "I AM NOT GOING TO PUT UP WITH THIS ANY MORE! I HAVE NO OTHER CHOICE," and Bob held his breath in fear. "BUT TO DOUBLE YOUR SALARY!" and he roared in laughter at his own joke.

Bob jumped back, picking up the poker from the fireplace, poking at Scrooge, as if to defend himself from this madman.

Scrooge held up his hands. "Oh, I have not taken leave of my senses, Bob. I have come to them. I will double your salary and from now on, I want to try to help you to raise that family of yours. If you will let me. And to start with, we will find the right doctor to get Tiny Tim well. And we will make him well, won't we, Bob?"

"Oh, yes, sir! I believe you! Today I will believe anything!"

Scrooge laughed. "Well, we shall talk it over later, Bob, over a bowl of hot punch, hmm?"

Bob nodded, a huge still-not-quite-believing smile on his still-pale face.

"Meanwhile, you just go and put some coal on that fire before we both freeze! You go straight out and buy a new coal scuttle. Yes, you do that before you dot another 'i', Bob Cratchit!" and he continued to laugh as Bob ran out of the office.

Scrooge continued laughing, before he declared. "Oh, I don't deserve to be so happy. But I can not help it!" and throwing his pen aside, he added, "I just can not help it!" and laughed even harder.

Scrooge was even better than his word. He did it all and infinitely more. He became as good a friend, as good a master, and as good a man as the good old city ever knew. Or any other good old city, town or borough in the good old world.

And to Tiny Tim, who did not die, but got well again, Scrooge became a second father, as he was to Mary and Paul, the children of Meg and Ben, for whom Scrooge found employment.

Some people laughed to see the alteration in Scrooge, but he let them laugh and little heeded them. His own heart laughed, and that was quite enough for him.

And it was always said that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man possessed the knowledge. May that be truly said of us, and all of us.

And so, as Tiny Tim observed, "God bless us...every one!"


I hope you enjoyed this combination of some of the movies that were based on Charles Dickens' wonderful story. And if you did, you should read his book!