I had forgotten how it was to have only a few reviewers. I am spoiled.
Either way, I gotta kick my butt into gear or I'll never finish before Christmas.
Chapter 2: The First Spirit
When Drew awoke, he had an immediate loss of sense of time. This was because it was dark outside. Also, even if it stayed dark long in winter, shouldn't he be hearing sounds outside?
Peering through the darkness, Drew looked at the analog clock on his dresser. It showed the number 12:59 and Drew felt dismayed: had he slept through a whole day? That was just unnatural and besides that: a waste of time and Drew was anything but happy about it.
Suddenly the radio next to his bed went off and Drew tensed up while he listened to some mindless jingle. But nothing happened during the song and Drew smirked up into the air. "One o'clock, right, Dad? Your spirit is late."
He felt incredibly smug. Like ghosts even exited.
But it seemed that he spoke too soon and suddenly he was blinded by a bright light. Drew almost wanted to mutter a 'too late' to the spirit its appearance hadn't frightened him so. "Who are you?" he whispered breathlessly.
The spirit stared at him. "My coming was foretold, right?" it asked and Drew could've sworn he heard a deep echo in its voice.
Then Drew couldn't hold himself. "Did Mr. Contesta die?" he blabbered.
The ghost looked confused as much as a ghost could look confused but there was a good reason for the question for the spirit did strongly resemble the judge of the contests. "In life I had been known by that name, however I suspect you are known with my son as he no doubt goes by the same name. No I am the ghost of Christmas past."
Drew had some things he wanted to say but every word he wanted to utter, died on his lips…and honestly, that light was distracting as Drew had to squint to even see.
"Now," the spirit said, "We have much to see and little time." He held out his hand. "Grab my hand."
Drew raised a hand but not to grab the hand but to shield his eyes. "Could you…could you perhaps turn the light a little? I can't see."
This was clearly not the right thing to say as the spirit's face darkened. "Is the holy light of the eternal too bright for you? Is the presences of Christmas too much for you?" he roared suddenly, the light sparking dangerously.
"N-no," Drew whimpered pathetically, uncharacteristically. This spirit embossed fear in him like nothing ever did. The spirit wasn't happy judging from the angry reds of his clothing but the light dimmed some until Drew was able to look without trouble.
"My hand," the spirit said impatiently and not wanting a repeat of the lightshow, Drew did as was asked of him. The spirit started pulling him toward the window and when Drew realized what he was dong, as surprised as he was from the cold touch of the ghost, he started fussing.
"No! I am solid! I will fall if you go through that!" he argued but the ghost continued relentlessly and Drew could not escape the tight grip. The window opened and Drew closed his eyes in expectation of plummeting to his death and not quite willing to see it.
But the heavy cement never came and instead Drew fell face first into snow. Shocked he raided himself up: the city never had that much snow. "Wha..?" he asked.
The ghost did not reply and instead pointed at a cozy family home, cheerful lights outside. "Do you recognize this?" he asked.
Drew looked at the home more carefully and then stood up, feeling strangely elated at seeing the Christmas lights decorating the home. "Of course I do! This is where I used to live when I was a kid!" he said cheerfully. "I haven't been here in such a long time! How did we get here?"
The spirit didn't answer and instead asked: "Do you want to go inside?"
Drew rubbed his arms in the sudden chill and realized he still was wearing his night clothing. He nodded and by the strange manner rom before, the ghost transported them inside the building.
"This is a happy house, is it not?" the ghost asked but it did not sound as if an answer was expected.
Drew felt his throat constrict. "Yeah," he said softly, "It was."
And it was. On the ground a boy was playing with his newly unwrapped gifts, his hair green but an unmistakable look of joy was on his face. A heavily pregnant woman sat on the ground, looking at her son tenderly for her slope of the nose and he high cheekbones were also prominent in the boy.
"Mom!" Drew exclaimed and went to touch her, but the ghost held him back. "Ca you not see me, mom, hear me?" Drew bade. It had been a very long time since he had seen her. The ghost did not release him but said:
"We are nought but air to them. They cannot sense us, only we know we are here." So Drew looked on at the mother and son playing with the Pokémon and plushes. The door on the side of the room opened and a man came in, one that Drew recognized fairly for he had seen him in what now seemed like a dream.
"Honey, sit down with us!" the woman said and the man went to sit with them, smiling at his little family. Drew stared into his father's face, clean from any sharp lines and coldness and only warmth was in his eyes.
Drew looked around the room and was happy inside to see all the warmth in the decorations and the Christmas tree. It had been a long gone memory to him.
"I am your older brother," the little boy on the ground suddenly spoke, talking to his mother's belly. "I'll protect you, little brother," he whispered.
The mother smiled tenderly at her firstborn. "It might also be a sister, Drew. Will you protect her too?" she asked.
The boy, the little Drew, looked affronted. "Of course I will!" he exclaimed.
The father grinned, "It will be a good brother to you, Drew, as you will to him."
The boy cuddled with his mother and Drew found himself swallowing hard. "Let's see another Christmas," the ghost whispered and the surrounding changed. The happy tree disappeared, the decorations were gone and the feeling was cold.
"This is the next Christmas," Drew said hoarsely. This scene was branded into his mind.
"Your mother did not get another baby boy. And your father was so angry," the spirit said. In the scene before them the woman from before was clutching a bundle with white sheets. The man was before her, the father, dangerously swaying, a bottle in his hand. Drew never found out what it was.
"Give it to me!" he ordered.
The woman covered the bundle even more with her body. "N-no! You'll…hurt her! She's your child too!" she argued.
Drew watched her bitterly, seeing the cold now in his eyes. "No, he was not happy. Was disappointed because he wanted a strong son, but my little sister had been born with a weak health.
He stared at the door, know what was coming. And sure enough, at the moment the man Drew called father raised the bottle, the door opened and a slightly older Drew came running in. Processing the situation in one view, the boy then ran foreward, spreading his arms widely, protecting his mother and little sister.
"Stand aside, Drew! This has nothing to do with you!"
Drew felt the incredible urge to leap on the man, to hold him back and away from the three he was threathening.
The little Drew shook his head bravely as tears were in his eyes. "No father! I said I would protect my little brother or sister so I will protect the little Mary!" he yelled.
Drew remembered how his knees and quacked. Then: "Have it your way!" the father snarled and roughly pushed his son out of the way and approached the mother. "I won't say it again, woman, give it here!"
But in a bout of bravery, perhaps having seen her son treated so roughly, the woman head-butted her husband and bolted for the door. "I'll come back for you, Drew! I promise," she whispered heart wrenchingly to her son who stretched his hand out to her.
And then she was gone.
Drew turned to the spirit. "She never did return," the old Drew said.
"Poor, poor boy," the spirit said as if an afterthought.
"My father taught me all that I know and am," Drew replied.
The surroundings changed again and this time they found themselves in a big hall that was filled to the brim with people chatting, drinking and dancing to the atmospheric music enough to dance on but still at a level to converse.
The spirit asked Drew whether he knew this. Drew glared back: "And if I know it! It's the party to my first Grand Festival Triumph!" he said cheerfully. Everyone knew everyone, dancing in one big messy group. He saw old opponents: the girl with the grumping, the man he knew as the phantom with his family; all were having a good time.
With no small pang of hurt, Drew saw Soledad dancing a jolly jig with Harley and thought to himself that, yes, they did fit.
"The people are enjoying themselves. How fickle."
"Fickle?!" Drew protested.
The ghost of mr. Contesta curiously looked at the people smiling: "Is it not? They have no gain in enjoying themselves. Just wasting time? Is that the praise to you?"
"That's not it!" Drew protested forcefully. "People didn't come her for the winner but to have a good time: the friends and people they have known a long time are here as well…" He fell silent.
"What?" the spirit asked.
Drew shook his head, "But a small thing," he muttered.
"Not that small?" the ghost pressed.
"No," Drew replied, "I just shouldn't have spoken so harshly to Soledad." Then he went in search for himself, hastily pressing away the thought. He found himself rather easily. His younger self was swaying to the music, but not alone. He had his arms wrapped around a woman: his nose buried in her brown hair, lost to the world.
"My god," Drew uttered. "That's May." He felt his throat constrict in seeing his old rival and admittedly more. "This is the night I told her what I felt for her."
The spirit looked confused but his light shone brightly. "What did you feel then?"
Drew did not know how to reply for a moment. "Everything," he finally whispered
The spirit looked sympathetically at him: "My time grows short. We must go on."
The area changed and Drew was sad to see it go, but he did recognize the new place well. "No!" he said. "No, I don't want to see this! Take me away!"
The spirit hummed, "I can't change the past. I merely show what has been."
May's face was not the face of bliss as before nor was there a crowd anymore. No, instead they were backstage to a stage, it mattered little which one though Drew was fairly certain if one asked him, he'd able to point it out of thousands.
A younger him, older than the one just swaying to the music, was seated on a bench, brushing pokéballs. "What happened to you, Drew?!" May cried.
The Drew on the bench barely looked up. "Nothing special," Drew replied.
"No," May disagreed, he head shaking as hair flew wildly. "No, I don't think so. I don't think I need to stay either."
This time Drew looked up and stared at her blankly: "Where would you go?" he asked, sounding fairly confused and the older Drew wanted to throttle himself. She meant she was leaving idiot!
May smiled weakly: "Do you still enjoy doing contests? Does the thrill still entice you?" she asked.
The Drew on the bench scoffed. "You don't get there with a mind-set like that!" he argued. May made a sound between a sob and a snort and Drew, the older, could not understand how the younger him could be stoically brushing up his pokéballs when his girlfriend was right there: crying!
"That's not how contests used to be," she said softly.
The other Drew leaned down to grab a pokéball and clench the other to his belt: "I finally saw what is necessary. To be a winner, you got to stop at nothing."
May smiled again, "Then there is no place for me in your life. I am from your past: there is no place for me in your future. So I'll let you go."
The Drew on the bench did still not look up: "I never said that."
May bent down to grab her bag. "No, Drew. But the person you are now would never sought me as a rival. What once was between us, is no more. I don't want to be with you like this. I don't matter in your grand plan."
The younger Drew finally looked up and for the first time, something akin to fear entered his voice. "You don't believe that?" he asked her.
May smiled, "You haven't given me a reason to think otherwise. Some part of me would hope you'd cry for me but…" she sighed. "I know you and you wouldn't. Good luck on reaching the top, Drew. They say it is very lonely up there."
And with that, she left. The younger Drew stared after her, not sure what had happened. The older Drew stepped up towards him: "Go after her! Idiot! She is leaving you! She'll be gone forever! Don't do this!" he almost pleaded.
The spirit touched his arm while Drew watched shaken how his younger self just continued rubbing the pokéballs. He remembered doing this, otherwise he wouldn't have believed it. He had never thought she didn't come back as well. "Drew, there is just one more shadow we have to see."
And suddenly Drew grew hesitant. He read a story quite similar to what was happening and he wasn't sure he could bear the next scene. But the spirit was relentless and the stage faded. Instead a living room came in the place.
Drew could admit it was cozy, lots of warm colors. A vase of roses was on top of a fireplace with a burning fire and a woman with brown hair was seated on the couch staring at a tv where a contest of him was showing.
He remembered that one: a few years back and tedious was the only word he'd use to describe it. The woman was sipping hot chocolate and only looked up when the door slammed open and a toddler entered, running full speed at the woman.
"Presents!" he yelled.
The woman had caught him, "Now, Joey, what did I tell you about presents?" she asked.
Drew walked around the couch and a shock of recognition went through him: he had only seen these blue eyes a few moments before: "May," he whispered.
The boy, Joey, pouted. "No opening any present until everyone is here."
May smiled, "Good boy."
The hair of the boy and his eyes shocked Drew. He knew the color; saw it on Max and her father and the blue eyes had only belonged to only one person. "It can't…" It hurt finishing that thought.
A man followed the boy into the room and May smiled up at him. "Thank you for picking up Joey," she said.
The man leaned down and kissed her forehead and Drew was torn between crying and punching the man's silly face. "No problem, love!" he said.
"Take me away!" Drew pleaded but the spirit looking like mr. Contesta shook his head.
"I only show Christmasses past; I change anything."
Meanwhile the scene continued without mercy. "Are you watching his contests again?" the man asked.
My smiled weakly: "His appeals are still good," she replied softly.
The man scoffed, "Doesn't do him well, now does it." He plumped himself down next to her on the couch. "No-one actually wants to be near him."
May sighed softly, "Alone, yeah. But he chose it himself." The two snuggled and Drew couldn't bear watching any longer.
"Take me away!' he demanded. "I don't want to see it! Take me away!"
The spirit's light flared up again. "I only show what's…"
"I said: take me away!" Drew yelled, the light hurting his eyes. He looked around bewildered and saw a sheet and threw it over the spirit. He could still see the light and threw another over the being.
And as suddenly as the light had flared, it was dark again in the hotel room. Drew barely managed to drag himself back to the sofa before he fell asleep.
I swear this is a contestshipping story. I am writing this in my evening dress…I felt obligated and I won't make it before Christmas if I don't hurry now. Don't forget to review!
I swear this format of Dickens makes that my chapters are a lot shorter than I am used to. Oh well