Chapter 2
Frollo lay in bed sleeping peacefully, the temperature of his room perfectly suited to his needs. Suddenly there was a dazzling beam of light and after a few seconds, darkness again. Frollo sat up in bed and stared at the door.
"What now?" he groaned.
The door began creaking and then swung open. In the doorway, stood a beautiful woman. Dressed in white robes and engulfed in an amazing radiance, her silky black hair complimenting her dark skin, she slowly walked towards him.
"Frollo, I am the ghost of Christmas past. In this form to show you how you have persecuted the Gypsies so unfairly so" said the ghost.
"I am not leaving this room!" barked Frollo.
"I believe you underestimate my power" The Ghost said calmly, as she raised her arms. The room was engulfed in white light and Frollo found himself in the dirty streets of Paris still in his night-robes and with the ghost of Christmas past.
"I can't believe you brought me to such a low and dirty place..." said Frollo.
"This is the first street you 'cleaned out' during your reign" explained the Ghost, "Look, there's some Gypsy children".
Three Gypsy children ran by giggling as they played with their small dog.
"Can't they see us?" asked Frollo.
"No, they can't hear us either. We can interact with them in no way" replied the Ghost.
There was a high pitched scream and chaos broke out. A large crowd of Gypsies burst through a run down building's front door and scrambled about, tripping over each other. Soliders emerged after them, weilding swords and clubs. It was then that Frollo saw himself, younger and carrying a sword.
"Why exactly did they deserve to be persecuted Frollo?" asked the Ghost, turning to him.
"They're a bunch of low level vermin sucking all of societies resources!" cried Frollo, pointing an accusing finger at the Gypsies.
"There are plenty of people with no jobs who steal and do what Gypsies do. Most of them aren't Gypsies. Why don't you persecute them?" asked the Ghost.
"It's...complicated..." sighed Frollo.
"Let's go further back" said the Ghost.
There was another burst of light and Frollo found himself standing in a country lane looking onto a large country house. The air was a gentle summer breeze but Frollo instantly remembered that this had not been a happy memory.
"Look, what do you see there?"
Frollo looked to where she was pointing and saw a long forgotten memory- his mother. She was sat in the porch, her tired face covered in tears, bent over and sobbing.
"My mother".
"And why is she crying Frollo?" asked the Ghost.
"If I remember correctly, he left us for a fortune teller of sorts" Frollo said hesitantly.
"Maybe that's why.." started the Ghost.
"NO! My mission against the Gypsies and all sinners of Paris has nothing to do with my personal life!" yelled Frollo, "Now return me to my home!"
The Ghost sighed in annoyance, "Maybe the next guy will have more luck".
"Next guy?!" cried Frollo.
But anything else could be done, Frollo find himself back in his bed convincing himself he was going crazy.