A Christmas Horror
Ebedian Scrooglehorn sat in his office, counting his ever-growing piles of gold coins. He treasured his gold more than anything, including his life and the lives of those around him. Ebedian was a tax collector, and he took great pleasure in his work. In the other room sat his only employee, Barbin Hatchet. Barbin hated Mr. Scrooglehorn's anti-everything attitude, but he still tried to cheer up the old grouch. Barbin refused to give up, especially now that Christmas was just a day away. The entire town was poor, save for Mr. Scrooglehorn, of course. And in his greed, he refused to lend even a single penny to someone else. Barbin had begged and pleaded for a coin or two for his family, having three hungry children and one very sick child, but Ebedian wouldn't budge. Barbin was lucky that his boss would even give him Christmas Eve and Christmas Day off. Ebedian firmly believed that no work meant no money, so days off were just terrible - even though most of the town could no longer pay taxes anyway.
When the working day was done, Barbin Hatchet gathered his things and locked the door on his way out. Ebedian Scrooglehorn liked to bask in his glory for a few extra hours. Barbin gave a sad sigh as he made his way home, feeling awful about having no money to feed his family.
When he got home, his wife Maya was sitting at the dining room table. All three of their children were in their room.
"How did things go at work?" Maya asked as Barbin hung his coat and hat upon the stand beside the door.
"Not well." Barbin replied. "Mr. Scrooglehorn gave me today and tomorrow off, but he still refuses to lend me money. I don't know what we'll do."
Maya sighed. "We'll find something, Barbin. Should we tell the kids?"
"I'm afraid we have to. No point in giving them false hope."
That night, as Ebedian lay down to sleep, a strange noise penetrated his bedroom. It as a low, faded moaning sound, like that of an angry spirit.
"Whatever you are, you better leave me alone." Ebedian called out. Nothing answered him. Shrugging it off as an effect of working too hard, he kicked off his house slippers and climbed into bed.
Not ten minutes later, the moaning came back. A strange figure appeared at the foot of Ebedian's bed. To any superstitious person, the figure would have looked like the ghost of a young child. Whether Mr. Scrooglehorn wanted to admit it or not, that's exactly what it was.
"Ebedian Scrooglehorn." the ghost child called. Ebedian simply rolled over.
"Ebedian Scrooglehorn." it called again. Ebedian wrapped his pillow around his head.
"Ebedian Scrooglehorn!" the child yelled. Ebedian shot out of bed in surprise. He landed on the floor with a loud 'thud'.
"W-what are you?!" Ebedian asked with a stutter, looking up at the ghost from his landing spot on the floor.
"I am the Ghost of Christmas Past!" the ghost child said. "It seems to me that you've lost your Christmas spirit over the years, so I'm gonna take you back to your childhood and see what went wrong!"
"No way. Nuh-uh. Not happening." Ebedian argued, shaking his head.
"You don't really have a choice, Ebedian." the ghost said. He floated towards Ebedian, grabbed his wrist, and began to lift towards the ceiling.
"What are you doing? Put me down!" Ebedian demanded. By this point, they were drifting out of Ebedian's bedroom window.
"Okay, if that's what you want." the ghost replied. With that, he let go of Mr. Scrooglehorn's hand, watching the man fall. Ebedian let out a shrill cry of terror as he landed in a pile of junk. When he stood back up, his night shirt was stained with his blood. He had landed on a rather sharp piece of metal, so there was a long, shallow gash down his right side. He let out another terrified cry.
"Are you ready to cooperate with me now?" the ghost asked. Ebedian nodded, his eyes wide with fear. The ghost grabbed his hand again and lifted him up into the sky. As they flew, Ebedian mentally named every building the passed. His old school, his old house, his old lover's house- wait, what? His lover's house?
As he tried erase Calista, his old lover, from his mind, the ghost child flew down for a closer look. They landed outside the window of Calista's large home, the window that looked directly into the living room. There seemed to be a party inside. Ebedian remembered the party. Calista, looking as beautiful as ever, as smiling in genuine happiness. She was having the time of her life. She walked towards a handsome young man - Ebedian Scrooglehorn. Ebedian and the ghost could hear everything they saw.
"Ebedian?" Calista asked the young Scrooglehorn. "Would you like to dance?"
"I'd love to." Ebedian had replied. He stood up and took Calista's hand. As they danced, the present Ebedian watched sadly.
"I remember her." he whispered. "She was my greatest love. My first love. And I screwed it all up."
"Yes you did. Come on, there's more to see." the ghost told him. They left the dance and flew to Ebedian's office.
"My tax house? Why are we here?" Ebedian questioned.
"Just look, you bonehead." the ghost replied. Ebedian complied. They looked through the window that led to Ebedian's office. Inside, the young Ebedian sat behind his desk, counting his coins. Calista stood in front of the desk, a very upset look on her face.
"Ebedian? I must talk to you." Calista said.
"What is it, Calista?" Ebedian replied, not taking his eyes from his jewels.
"Well, you know that I love you. And my family is so low in money right now. So I was just thinking that maybe we should get married." Calista suggested. True, she did love Ebedian Scrooglehorn. And he loved her. Even if he didn't know it. But Calista's main focus was the fact that if they were married, half of his belongings also belonged to her, including his gold. Her family was in a tight fit, something very new to them. They were quite possibly the richest family in town, until the taxes went up. So Calista hoped to use her lover's money to save her family. Ebedian didn't see through her plan, but he knew that weddings were expensive.
"Absolutely not. Do you know how much money that would waste? Definitely not worth it." Ebedian had replied.
Calista's face turned red with anger. "What?! Are you saying that your money is more valueable than our love?!" Before Ebedian had a chance to respond, Calista was gone, slamming the door on her way out. The impact of the slam caused every single one of Ebedian's coins to fall to the ground.
The present Ebedian Scrooglehorn looked to the ground in sorrow. He let his money take priority over love.
"Well, that's all you gotta see from me." the ghost child told him. "I'll take you back to your room."
The Ghost of Christmas Past took Ebedian Scrooglehorn back to his room in the present.
"But I'm no the only ghost you'll encounter tonight." the ghost child added as Ebedian climbed back into bed. "There are two more. Goodnight."
With that, the ghost was gone. Moaning and all.
Just as Ebedian had gotten comfortable and fallen into a peaceful sleep, the second ghost entered his bedroom. There was a low moaning sound again. This time, the ghost seemed to be a giant.
"Ebedian Scrooglehorn." the ghost giant called. Ebedian refused to move.
"Ebedian Scrooglehorn." the ghost called, a little louder. Ebedian curled up, trying to block out the ghost.
"Ebedian Scrooglehorn!" the giant called, shaking the room. Ebedian glared at the giant for a moment before getting out of bed.
"I am the Ghost of Christmas Present." the giant told him. Ebedian supressed a groan.
"That little runt wasn't lying about there being another ghost." he mumbled to himself. The ghost giant let out a laugh that shook the bedroom again.
"I am only the second ghost you will encounter." he replied. "Now, come. We have things to see."
The ghost giant wrapped an arm around Ebedian and jumped from the window. Ebedian struggled and squirmed against the ghost giant's frame. He felt suffocated. Noticing this, the giant acted on instinct and dropped Ebedian - forgetting that he couldn't fly on his own and would land on a pile of sharp and pointy junk. As Ebedian stood up, he noticed that his leg was red with his blood. Another gash, a bit deeper than the one on his side, ran from his left knee to his ankle. The crimson liquid dripped from the limb, gathering in a small puddle around his foot.
"Not again." Ebedian moaned. These ghosts would be the death of him if he wasn't careful.
"Sorry about that." the ghost giant sighed. "But no time for that. Come, we must visit a friend of yours."
The ghost and the grouch made their way to the home of Ebedian Scrooglehorn's one and only employee - Barbin Hatchet. The Hatchet house was small, with only one storey and two bedrooms. Barbin and Maya shared one room and their three children shared the other. Once again, Ebedian and the ghost landed in front of a window. This one looked into the bedroom of the Hatchet's youngest child, the very sick Tommy. Poor Tommy was only seven years old, with a horrible disease that was killing him slowly. No one knew what the disease was, not even the doctors. But then again, Tommy had only been to the doctor once. The family didn't have enough money for multiple doctor trips. Ebedian wouldn't even offer them sympathy.
"So that's Tommy." Ebedian murmured. He had never actually seen the boy, only heard about him from Barbin when he was trying to get money from the boss.
A woman walked into the room. Maya. Ebedian had only seen her once, but she had the face you could never forget. Though she was a pretty lady, she had a scar across her forehead and hair that made her look like she was fighting cancer. The older children, Marcia and Blaine, were sick-looking as well. Marcia had the average body type, but she was unnaturally pale. Her lips were always blood red and swollen, and she looked as if she had been drained of almost all of her blood. Blaine was the tallest of the family, and the skinniest. He was unhealthily thin, quite literally resembling a twig. You could see nearly every single bone in his body. As the eldest, he felt it was his duty to take care of his younger siblings and his parents, even if that meant letting himself starve and fall apart. So he often skipped meals since there was hardly enough food to go around. Barbin was really the only healthy-looking member of the Hatchet family. His hair was short and always messy, and his clothes were torn, but he wasn't skinny or scarred. And Tommy was undoubtably the worst. He looked like a mix of his siblings, drained and skinny. Sometimes he could hardly breathe. He always stayed in bed, wrapped in blankets, because he could hardly move and he had to be kept warm.
"Barbin never told me it was like this at home." Ebedian said, watching the sad scene.
"Would you have listened if he had? Would you have helped?" the ghost giant asked. Ebedian shook his head, knowing that he wouldn't have.
"Well, that's all I have to show you."
With that, the ghost giant wrapped his arm around Ebedian again and swiftly flew back to his bedroom. Ebedian carefully got into bed, trying not to open the wound on his leg or his side. But this time, he couldn't fall asleep.
Some time later, a third figure appeared in Ebedian's room. No face could be seen. The figure was tall and wore a black hooded cloak, like that of the Grim Reaper. But he held no scythe. His slim hands were covered by black gloves, and he didn't speak.
Ebedian stared at the figure in silence, waiting for some kind of acknowledgement like he had gotten from the last two ghosts. After a few moments of nothing, he decided to talk instead.
"Are you the third ghost?" he asked. The figure seemed to nod.
"What are you, then? The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come?"
Another nod.
With a sigh, Ebedian stood up. The figure floated towards the window and waiting for Ebedian to follow. The figure held out an arm, gesturing for Ebedian to grab ahold of it. Ebedian did so, tightly, hoping not to fall again.
His wish was not granted. The figure straightened his arm next to his body, causing Ebedian to slip right off. But he didn't land in a pile of junk this time. He landed on the street. This caused a twisted ankle, but it was better than a bloody one.
The figure approached Ebedian and held out his hand. Ebedian, not wanting to walk with a twisted ankle, took the figure's hand and held tightly, hoping that it wouldn't happen again. Maybe him falling was just part of the routine.
Not quite sure what to expect from the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come, he was only half surprised to arrive at a graveyard. The figure led him through the maze of tombstones, stopping at a select few. The entire Hatchet family was there, in a small section that had a banner saying "The Hatchet Family". Ebedian's eyes widened a bit when he saw Barbin's grave. He had expected the others, but not Barbin. He averted his eyes when he saw Calista's stone. And he couldn't help but fall to his knees when he saw the last stone.
"Here lies Ebedian Scrooglehorn
Good riddance"
Ebedian turned back to the cloaked figure.
"I should have known. They all died because of me, and no one cares that I died as well?" he concluded. The figure nodded.
Deciding that he should probably change his ways, Ebedian asked the figure to take him home. The figure complied. . . mostly.
They got halfway home when the figure released his grip on Mr. Scrooglehorn again. Ebedian fell into a pile of junk this time, scraping his back and his left arm. Most of his night shirt was soaked in his blood. He bit back a scream. He stood up and tried to walk, only to limp a few inches and pause in fear. The bright headlights of a semi-truck blinded him. Not seeing the scrawny, blood-stained man, the semi continued driving, thinking that the bump they ran over was a few scattered pieces from the junk pile beside it. Ebedian laid in the street for what seemed like an eternity, twitching here and there. When a vulture came along to feast on his body, the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come faded away. His job was done.