Oh, yes, the damn disclaimer: seriosuly, do we really have to do it? Because, Jeez, if I'd own them, I'd not be here writing it, I'd be the writeer of a TV Shows and, well, we'd have the LIsbon romance for real...meanwhile, I just "write, draw, create, dream, hope and believe in Bruno, waiting for him to be blessed bu the light of reason..." (No, this discalimer isn't mine, it belongs to one fo the girls who wite Mentalist fiction on the italian site efpfiction, but don't tell me many of you don't share this vision...).

Mega, super, ultra Author's note...: I have the evil that men do on hiatus since this summer,I'm well aware of that. And I'm terribly late with the translation of my fanfics from English into Italian (I still have to understand how is possible that I think and write in English, and I'm pretty unable to make my stories made sense into Italian. Mah.), and I'm even terribly late in writing Blackdragon, if you know what I'm talking about...

And I know it's almost a month untill Christmas, but when the end of Novembers arrives, I start doing two things: thinking what I'll get to my mum for her birthday on december the 5th (I took her present yesterday, in case you wonder- a small bell with a Christams theme. she collects them, the bells, not the ones with the Christmas theme...) and I start thinking about Christmas. and Thinking about Chrstmas, I think about my fav Chrstmas book, a Christmas Carol. I red it once a year since...well, a lifetime, and few years ago I started reading it into its original version in English- I think it's also because both "Mills & Boon" and the Italian publisher Harmony, in November, already publish Romance novels with the Christmas theme. [ND:YES! NOW you've discovered my most precious and terrible secret... sometimes, instead of Byographies or novels, I read romance novels from mills&Boon!] . there's also a good chance that I start thinking about this festivity because, in my town, on the saturday of November, the decorative lights are turned on all around town... besides, right now I'm looking outside my window, and in the space enlightened by the street lamps (it's 10 past eight pm) you can see the first snow falling from the sky...

Also, I happened to find a Christmas based story about the Mentalist the other day (yes, when I'm bored and I don't have new novels to read, I put Patrick , Teresa, Romance, all ratings into the search engine and see what I find) and I remembered a story about Alpha Flight, based on Chrismas carol, that I wrote in Italian 5 or six years ago. And I thought: I was already considering the 3 ghosts thing with the Mentalist, it's almost Christmas, let's do it in the right way! And so, here it came, this little thing... which follows almost completely the original plot., by the way. in fact, often, you'll be able to notice that just the name and few situations have been altered to fit into the Mentalist Fandom, leaving the words almsot the same (such as in the prologue)...

PROLOGUE

Alexander Jane is dead: to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. The register of his burial was signed by the clergyman, the clerk, the undertaker, and the chief mourner – his son Patrick signed it as well, many, many years before, on a Californian Christmas Eve, despite how they had parted ways and the battles of the previous years. The only reason Patrick did it, though, was to make his wife a bit content. She couldn't get what she really wanted, a life outside the lie her husband had built, and so, at least, he pretended to care about his late father.

Patrick knew his dad was dead before Angela told him, when someone from a morgue called them; her eyes told him everything he needed to know. Of course he did. How could it be otherwise, considering whom he was and what he pretended to do for a living?

Besides, there's no way they'd called someone else. Even if not close, Patrick was the only "family" Alexander Robert Jane had left. And they'd been even partners for I don't know how many years. Patrick was his sole executor, his sole administrator, his sole assign, his sole residuary legatee, his sole "friend", and sole mourner- even if he just pretended to, again for Angela's sake. Patrick was not so dreadfully cut up by the sad event, but that he was an excellent man of business on the very day of the funeral, and solemnized it with an undoubted bargain, and the mention of Alex's funeral brings me back to the point I started from.

There is no doubt that Alexander Jane is dead. This must be distinctly understood, or nothing wonderful can come of the story I am going to relate. If we are not perfectly convinced that Hamlet's Father died before the play began, there would be nothing more remarkable in his taking a stroll at night, in an easterly wind, upon his own ramparts, than there would be in any other middle-aged gentleman rashly turning out after dark in a breezy spot — say Saint Paul's Churchyard for instance — literally to astonish his son's weak mind.

And, like in that tale, the spirit of a Father is going to plague the nights of his son, a son with a "weak" mind, filled by hate for himself and regrets and guilt…but, unlike Hamlet, Alexander Jane isn't looking for revenge, but for forgiveness, and to gain that, he has to make his son see the light after so many years he has spent in the darkness after his real family, the one he loved and cared for, the one he had built, has been ripped away from him….