The Phantom glided smoothly towards Moneybags. A chill went up his spine and his blood ran cold. "A-a-are you the g-ghost of Christmas yet to come?" he asked. The Phantom nodded slightly. "And are you here to show me what will happen if I don't change my ways?"
Again, it nodded.
"Why do you not speak? Why do you stare at me in cold, stony silence?"
The Spirit slowly raised an arm, pointing to something behind the bear. Moneybags turned and looked. They were no longer at his nephew's house, but in the heart of the city. The fog had cleared a good deal, and a group of men could be clearly seen.
Moneybags immediately recognized them as some of his business friends, talking about someone. "So, I hear Ol' Stingy has finally passed on, eh?"
"Yep. Shame though, we were about to finish a pretty sweet deal."
"Has he left his fortune to anyone?"
"No, the guy didn't even leave a Will."
"Too bad, government will probably get all of it. Should we attend the funeral?"
"Eh, he wasn't a close personal friend of mine. Unless anyone else is going?"
Excuses were promptly delivered. "I'm afraid I can't. Got to go to a very important meeting, you know."
"Neither can I. Business trip tomorrow and I've got to get packing."
"I promised some time to the wife and kids."
The men said their goodbyes and departed. Moneybags was about to say something when the Phantom pushed him forwards, down the street. "Where are we going?" he asked. The Spirit remained silent, pointing ahead of them. They walked along in silence.
Finally they reached a pawn shop and went inside. It was dark, run-down sort of place. A man stood behind the counter as two women walked in. "Hello, ladies!" greeted the man. "What do you have today?"
"Have you heard the news?" one of the women asked. The man nodded grimly. "Ah, yes. Poor fellow died now, didn't he?" The woman put the objects she was carrying on the table. Several candlesticks, some China plates, and a silver bell. The man wrote down some figures while examining the items. "I'm afraid that's all I can give you for these." he said, handing her some cash.
"I've got a few things too." said the other woman. She set down a set of sheets and pillowcases and bed curtains. The man calculated another figure and gave the woman some cash for those items. "It's sad the way he went, you know." said the man, referring to the dead person. "And on Christmas Eve, too!"
"Ah, yes." agreed the woman. "He could have been nicer, and had himself a couple of close friends. If he had done things differently, then he wouldn't have been in that big house, gasping out his last all alone in a cold, dark room."
"No one even shed a tear." said the other woman. "The only ones who cared were the looters."
"At least his fortune is going to good use." said the man, getting a laugh out of the women.
Moneybags felt the Spirit grab his shoulder and they were suddenly in a very dark room. After his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he looked around. The room was completely bare, save for a bed in the far corner. A square of moonlight fell upon it, revealing that it was bare of curtains and bedding, save for an obscure figure lying upon it. It was a body, wrapped in linen, with not a soul to cry over it.
The Phantom pointed, indicating that Moneybags should unwrap the linen over the body's head to see who it was. The bear reached out a shaky hand towards the head. The feeling of doom grew stronger and stronger, seemingly filling the room. The feeling grew so intense, it was almost suffocating him. He couldn't stand it, and pulled his hand back.
"Spirit." he said, trying to think of something else beside the body on the bed. "What happened to Clumsy Clem?"
The scene changed quickly. They were now walking through an old cemetery. The inexorable finger was still pointing to what Moneybags recognized as his four employees. "Gosh, I don't know whether to cry over Clem," said Elora, "Or have a party because our worst nightmare is gone."
Moneybags could see 'Clumsy Clem' written on the headstone they were standing by. The Spirit suddenly started pushing him forwards, towards the other end of the cemetery. It took them a long time, until they had finally reached the furthest corner. From here they still went on a good twenty yards where they could hear the conversation of two gravediggers.
"Smallest funeral I've ever seen! No mourners, no friends or family, heck there wasn't even a preacher!"
"Well there was one guest, his lawyer."
"But he was only there for some legal whatnot!"
"Duh! He's a lawyer!"
"Well, I'm beat. Let's take a break and grab some burgers. We'll fill it in later."
"Okay! He sure ain't going anywhere!"
The diggers laughed and walked away from the freshly dug grave. The Phantom pushed Moneybags towards it. "Now what?" he asked dumbly. The Spirit continued pointing, this time at the headstone, which was covered with a good layer of topsoil.
"You want me to read the headstone?"
The Spirit nodded. Moneybags reached over and brushed the dirt off. He uncovered the date, which was December 25. Then, he moved up and brushed off the dirt there, uncovering the name. He gasped as he read his own name, Moneybags!
"No! No! This can't be!" he cried. "Spirit, tell me these things can be changed. Please!"
The Spirit said nothing, but glided backwards until it disappeared. Moneybags stood there, at the edge of the grave. "Spirit, wait! Can my future be altered? Am I doomed to this fate? Spirit!" The ground suddenly crumbled beneath him, making him lose his balance and fall backwards into the dark abyss.
"Noooooooo!"
He cries were lost in the endless hole.