Edit- "Crachet" should be "Crachit", but I'll leave it as is so as not to confuse myself.

Barbossa stirred. A dark form was visible through his bed curtains. The shape crept around for a bit, picked up Barbossa's remaining bread roll, ate it, and upon deciding it was stale, and washed it down with a bit o' Captain Morgan's. It then silently crept up and pulled open the bed hangings. Lo and behold was the least spirit looking spirit ever to be seen. He had a cloak with many pockets, and beaded dreadlocks in his hair; he wore a bandana, and held a bottle of rum in his hands! He poked Barbossa, decided he was sleeping too heavily to try again. Just as he was walking away, he turned and shouted:

"WHOA!"

No reply. The spirit looked towards Barbossa's dresser and saw opportunity. A basin of water! He took it and threw some water on Ebenezer.

"What in the…"

"Come on let's get going!"

"Who are you?"

"I'm the Ghost of Christmas Present! Come on now!"

He splashed him again.

"Blast it, I'm already awake! What was that for?"

"That was…well…yeah, just because I wanted to." He grinned. "Come on! Out of bed! Now!"

Ebenezer got out of bed and a second later they were in the poorer quarter of London. They looked into the window, and saw the Crachet family and Ragetti gathered round the table for, what looked like to Barbossa, a canary. That was, until he realized that it was their Christmas turkey. They must be cooking up something else wonderful, instead of that measly bird, in that large pot over the fire, he thought. Barbossa waited anxiously to see what was in the pot, but when Mrs. Crachet finally took off the lid, he realized that it was nothing more but his laundry. Feeling guilty, he looked up at a small figure coming down the stairs. It was Pintel's son, Tiny Will Crachet. He looked so sad with his little crutch. Pintel picked him up and put him on his shoulders. Tiny Will raised his crutch and called out in holiday cheer "Merry Christmas to you, every one!"

"Spirit, what will become of Tiny Will?"

He turned around, but the spirit had gone. Instead, there was another, in a black, tattered robe. He looked foreboding.

"Are you the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come?"

The spirit nodded.

"Can you show me what will become of the child?"

The spirit pointed to the window. Barbossa looked in once again. The Crachets sat around the fire place, all sobbing. Against the wall was a little crutch.

"No spirit, please, show me no more!"

The spirit turned and showed him the two men who had come collecting earlier.

"The old man isn't doing to well anymore. But who cares if he dies? No one'll even be at his funeral." said Murtog.

"Yeah, he wu'nt very nice, was he?"

"No. He wasn't. Not very nice at all."

The spirit then led him to a small home. They looked in. Inside there were two men and women sitting around a table. They pulled out a bag and dumped out its contents. One of the men picked up a stretch of fabric.

"Wow! You took the bed hangings?" He looked down. "And the hooks to hold them up? You're brilliant!"

"Look!" exclaimed one of the women. "She even took his blankets!"

"Took 'em directly off the poor old chap too, I did!" said the other. She laughed.

"Spirit," asked Ebenezer, "who is this poor, unloved man? Show me."

A moment later, they were at the graveyard. The spirit pointed to a small, desolate lot. The tombstone was there, but the grave was empty, waiting to be filled in after the casket was laid. Barbossa walked up to it and was shocked and terrified when he read the name:

EBENEZER BARBOSSA

The spirit pointed at Barbossa, motioning for him to get into the grave, his grave.

"Please, Spirit, is this what will be, or what might be? Is there time for me to change my ways?"

The spirit pointed.

Barbossa groveled and held fast to the hem of the spirit's robe.

The spirit pointed. Barbossa groveled. The spirit pointed some more. Barbossa groveled some more. The spirit was still pointing. Barbossa was still groveling. Pointing. Groveling. Pointing. Groveling. Still pointing, still groveling. Spirit getting bored. Barbossa still groveling.

Barbossathen found himself hanging on to his bed curtains.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Would've liked to have given Jack a larger role…but I'm trying to hurry up so it's finished by tomorrow. Christmas Eve, you know. If you'd like to know which POTC character is the ghost of Christmas Yet to Come, I was going to make it Will and give him some dialogue, but I honestly don't know anymore.
I completely agree with you vanillafluffy, itmust be the egg nog…

Captain Jack: Christmas? I love Christmas! Egg nog all around!

TTFN, Ta Ta For Now! Love,

Your friendly neighborhood psycho