I hearby dedicate the rest of the story to Scrooge McDuck
Dear Friend,

Last night, I dreamt a thing of unspeakable horror: Tiny Tim was dead. It was intense sorrow all round. My little child lay on his deathbed, sickly and sallow. He talked amicably, not knowing that his end was near. Just as he departed to be with God, everyone disappeared. Who should appear at my side but Ebenezer Scrooge, the covetous old sinner! I awoke then, barely comforted by the knowledge that' twas only a dream. I pray that the dream shan't become a premonition. I awoke crying, something that should never happen upon a Christmas Eve.

With all due respect,

Emily Cratchit