Stave 4
The figure slowly, silently approached. Matt fell to his knees when it came, because a chilling wind blew as it came. It wore a long black robe, and in the back there were large wings. Other than that, nothing came out of it, save one long outstretched hand, and it would have blended into the night if it wasn't coming straight toward him.
He felt very small in its presence, and he was terrified. The spirit did not move or speak. Matt said, his voice wavering, "I am in the presence of...Wynd? No... I am in the presence of the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come..."
The Spirit made no sound, but simply pointed out a long hand. "Then you will show me things that have not come to pass, but will be?" She kept pointing, but there was a small trembling in the upper half of her robes, as if Wynd...I mean, The Spirit, had nodded its head.
Although Harty had already seen 3 other spirits, this one was more terrifying than all of them combined. His legs trembled. The Spirit noticed this, and giggled, it seemed. Soon she returned to her spooky silence.
Harty was frozen. He could see two tiny blue eyes peering out, staring at him. "I fear you more than any spirit I have seen so far, Ghost of Christmas Future. But I know you are trying to do me good. Will you not speak to me, Spirit?" The Spirit was silent. "Lead on. Lead on, then, Spirit. Show me the way."
So the Phantom glided away, pulling Matt with him. They were in the middle of town soon, people were busily moving about. She pointed her hand to a group of PNers who were talking. "Nope." Said Sweet thang, "I don't really know much about it. I just know he's gone." "When? What happened?" asked Josh. "Sometime last night, I think... Only Bob knows why, I thought he'd NEVER die." Sweet said with a laugh. "I wonder what he's done with his money..." Josh told Sweet Thang. "Well...He hasn't left it to me!" Sweet laughed at Josh's joke. "I suppose it will be a cheap funeral," Sweet pointed out, "But I might go...if there's a party afterwards."
The Phantom beckoned him to another group, of three people, which he did not know. Newbies, perhaps. "I got 500 np for his clock!" Said a girl. "Well," said another girl, "I got 2000 np for his shirts!" "Thats nothing!" Said a tall boy, "I was payed 15 k for his sheets. Fine satin sheets, I might add. While he pinched every single penny in life, I must say we greatly profitted from him in death." "Aye." Said the first girl. "But you took those sheets right off him, with 'im lying there and all?" "I did." The boy said proudly. "Oh, I see..." Matt said in horror, "The case of this man might be my own. Oh my God...What is this!"
They were somewhere else now, a dark room. it was bare save for a bed, and on the bed a shape. Though the light was too dim to see clearly, he knew exactly what it was. It was the body of a man. The Spirit of Christmas Yet to Come pointed to it. "Please, this is a fearful place. Let us leave." The Spirit stood, unmoving, pointing. "Is there no tenderness with this death? Does no one feel pain towards this man's expiration? Please, show me at least one!"
The Spirit spread its wings around her body and Matt's, and they were in another place. Ernesto's home. Ashley, Lupess, and Ari were sitting around the fire sewing, and Shand had a book. He was reading it. Ashley suddenly closed her eyesm flinching. "This candlelight makes my eyes weak...I would not show weak eyes to Erma for the world." She sighed.
She heard footsteps outside. Quickly she, Lupess, and Shand ran to the door, outside to greet him. "You went today, Ern?" Mrs. Breast asked. "Yes, dear. You should have seen it. But you will. We must go there often. All of you will see it. Oh... My poor child..." His eye teared. Once he had composed himself, he sat by the fire with the family.
"I met Night walking there," Ernesto said, "Mr. Harty's nephew, you know. A kind man. 'Heartily Sorry,' he said, 'Heartily sorry for you and your good wife. If you ever need anything, just call me.' And he gave me his card. Fine fellow, he was. Seemed as if he really knew Timm..." "He must be a good soul." Ash said, smiling. "Oh, you would know it if you talked with him. He said he might even get Shand a good job..." "Hear that, Shand!" Ashley said happily.
"Let us never forget Timm, dear Tiny Timm, and this fist parting among our family." "Never will we forget him." They all said sadly.
"No...Not dear Timm! Poor child. Now, Spirit, tell me more of the man we saw dead a moment ago." Harty said, sniffling. The robed figure walked on, toward a churchyard. It was a worthy place, Matt thought, for such a man. Overrun with weeds, packed with rows of graves, not a single wilted flower. The Spirit pointed to one.
"Before I look, O great Spirit, tell me, please, are these shadows of things that WILL be or...or only of things that *may* be?" The Ghost only ruffled her wings uneasily.
Expecting some name like Hrobi, or Goten, Harty was completey shocked when he read the tombstone:
Matthew Harty
"No! No, No, PLEASE! I am not whom I was! I have changed, Spirit! Tell me that I may change this fate! PLEASE! I will keep Christmas alive throughout the year! I will live in the Past, Present, and Future! Oh, please, tell me I may change?"
Matt grabbed the Ghost's hand in agony. She tried to yank away, but Matt was strong. The Spirit, however, was stronger yet, and ripped away in disgust, letting out a small groan. Knowing that her time was nearly up, she grabbed a broom-stick, mounted it, and flew away, robe whipping in the wind. For a second, it was blown away, and he saw that the Spirit was mooning him... But the Spirit was gone, and he was in his bed.
The figure slowly, silently approached. Matt fell to his knees when it came, because a chilling wind blew as it came. It wore a long black robe, and in the back there were large wings. Other than that, nothing came out of it, save one long outstretched hand, and it would have blended into the night if it wasn't coming straight toward him.
He felt very small in its presence, and he was terrified. The spirit did not move or speak. Matt said, his voice wavering, "I am in the presence of...Wynd? No... I am in the presence of the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come..."
The Spirit made no sound, but simply pointed out a long hand. "Then you will show me things that have not come to pass, but will be?" She kept pointing, but there was a small trembling in the upper half of her robes, as if Wynd...I mean, The Spirit, had nodded its head.
Although Harty had already seen 3 other spirits, this one was more terrifying than all of them combined. His legs trembled. The Spirit noticed this, and giggled, it seemed. Soon she returned to her spooky silence.
Harty was frozen. He could see two tiny blue eyes peering out, staring at him. "I fear you more than any spirit I have seen so far, Ghost of Christmas Future. But I know you are trying to do me good. Will you not speak to me, Spirit?" The Spirit was silent. "Lead on. Lead on, then, Spirit. Show me the way."
So the Phantom glided away, pulling Matt with him. They were in the middle of town soon, people were busily moving about. She pointed her hand to a group of PNers who were talking. "Nope." Said Sweet thang, "I don't really know much about it. I just know he's gone." "When? What happened?" asked Josh. "Sometime last night, I think... Only Bob knows why, I thought he'd NEVER die." Sweet said with a laugh. "I wonder what he's done with his money..." Josh told Sweet Thang. "Well...He hasn't left it to me!" Sweet laughed at Josh's joke. "I suppose it will be a cheap funeral," Sweet pointed out, "But I might go...if there's a party afterwards."
The Phantom beckoned him to another group, of three people, which he did not know. Newbies, perhaps. "I got 500 np for his clock!" Said a girl. "Well," said another girl, "I got 2000 np for his shirts!" "Thats nothing!" Said a tall boy, "I was payed 15 k for his sheets. Fine satin sheets, I might add. While he pinched every single penny in life, I must say we greatly profitted from him in death." "Aye." Said the first girl. "But you took those sheets right off him, with 'im lying there and all?" "I did." The boy said proudly. "Oh, I see..." Matt said in horror, "The case of this man might be my own. Oh my God...What is this!"
They were somewhere else now, a dark room. it was bare save for a bed, and on the bed a shape. Though the light was too dim to see clearly, he knew exactly what it was. It was the body of a man. The Spirit of Christmas Yet to Come pointed to it. "Please, this is a fearful place. Let us leave." The Spirit stood, unmoving, pointing. "Is there no tenderness with this death? Does no one feel pain towards this man's expiration? Please, show me at least one!"
The Spirit spread its wings around her body and Matt's, and they were in another place. Ernesto's home. Ashley, Lupess, and Ari were sitting around the fire sewing, and Shand had a book. He was reading it. Ashley suddenly closed her eyesm flinching. "This candlelight makes my eyes weak...I would not show weak eyes to Erma for the world." She sighed.
She heard footsteps outside. Quickly she, Lupess, and Shand ran to the door, outside to greet him. "You went today, Ern?" Mrs. Breast asked. "Yes, dear. You should have seen it. But you will. We must go there often. All of you will see it. Oh... My poor child..." His eye teared. Once he had composed himself, he sat by the fire with the family.
"I met Night walking there," Ernesto said, "Mr. Harty's nephew, you know. A kind man. 'Heartily Sorry,' he said, 'Heartily sorry for you and your good wife. If you ever need anything, just call me.' And he gave me his card. Fine fellow, he was. Seemed as if he really knew Timm..." "He must be a good soul." Ash said, smiling. "Oh, you would know it if you talked with him. He said he might even get Shand a good job..." "Hear that, Shand!" Ashley said happily.
"Let us never forget Timm, dear Tiny Timm, and this fist parting among our family." "Never will we forget him." They all said sadly.
"No...Not dear Timm! Poor child. Now, Spirit, tell me more of the man we saw dead a moment ago." Harty said, sniffling. The robed figure walked on, toward a churchyard. It was a worthy place, Matt thought, for such a man. Overrun with weeds, packed with rows of graves, not a single wilted flower. The Spirit pointed to one.
"Before I look, O great Spirit, tell me, please, are these shadows of things that WILL be or...or only of things that *may* be?" The Ghost only ruffled her wings uneasily.
Expecting some name like Hrobi, or Goten, Harty was completey shocked when he read the tombstone:
Matthew Harty
"No! No, No, PLEASE! I am not whom I was! I have changed, Spirit! Tell me that I may change this fate! PLEASE! I will keep Christmas alive throughout the year! I will live in the Past, Present, and Future! Oh, please, tell me I may change?"
Matt grabbed the Ghost's hand in agony. She tried to yank away, but Matt was strong. The Spirit, however, was stronger yet, and ripped away in disgust, letting out a small groan. Knowing that her time was nearly up, she grabbed a broom-stick, mounted it, and flew away, robe whipping in the wind. For a second, it was blown away, and he saw that the Spirit was mooning him... But the Spirit was gone, and he was in his bed.
