A Broken Promise

“Humbug,” Scrooge muttered under his breath as he walked down the crowded streets. Sir Scrooge walked upon the brick London roads to his home. It was Christmas Eve and the streets were filled with last minute shoppers. “Merry Christmas Sir!” said a cheery man with a Santa costume on. Scrooge waved back with a smile.
‘What filth,’ Scrooge thought, ‘A pathetic man trying to talk to me.’ It had been a year since he had been visited by the three ghosts.
He had reached his home on the top of a hill. He opened the door to his mansion and stepped inside. The slamming door echoed throughout the empty house. He dropped his briefcase by the door, and bent over and picked up the envelopes from the front pocket. He sat at his desk. “Bill…bill…bill…” he said aloud, setting them aside. Once he sorted the mail he opened the envelope at the top of the stack.
Merry Christmas
Sir Scrooge!
From Everyone
at the bank!

He chuckled as he threw it in the fire. Scrooge glanced at the clock above the window. 9:30. Scrooge sat back down and groaned as he pulled out his stationary. He couldn’t wait until Christmas was over.

Ding Dong Ding Dong, the clock rang. Scrooge gasped and opened his eyes. He had fallen asleep at his desk again. The clock said midnight. Scrooge yawned as he got up from his desk.
“Scrooge,” something said.
He gasped, “Who’s there?”
Then, a woman with long brown hair and black cloak appeared. “Ghost of Christmas Present,” he whispered softly.
“Yes Scrooge Is I, Ghost of Christmas Present,” she said.
“Why have you come back?” Scrooge yelled.
“You have not fulfilled your promise Scrooge,” she said in a haunting tone.
“But I have,” Scrooge said, “I have been kind to everyone.”
She pointed to his heart. “Yes, but your soul must be pure as well,” she said.
“Your thoughts are evil and your soul is just as black as when I first met you.” He backed away.
“You broke your promise Scrooge, and now you must be taken to the grave.”
Scrooge yelled, “No!” and ran outside.
He panted up and down the London streets.
“Scrooge, you can’t run,” he heard. He just tried to run faster. He felt that his lungs were going to burst and his knees were going to give out. Scrooge ran faster than he ever had in his life, it wasn’t enough, he could feel the ghost closing in on him. She gripped his shoulders. “To the grave, Scrooge,” she whispered. Scrooge’s last sound was a horrifying shriek into the cold London night, which nobody heard.

She took his boney body to his bed. Ghosts of Past and Yet to Come were already waiting. The three of them felt shame. They had failed. They said a small prayer, and Yet to Come and Past left. Ghost of Christmas Present leaned over Scrooge. She touched his hand. “I thought you would change,” she said. “I hated doing this to you.” She kissed his forehead. “I failed you,” she said.





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