A Zombie Christmas Carol by Michael G. Thomas; Charles Dickens Read Free Book Online

hair, which hung about its neck and down its back, was white as if with age; and yet the face had not a wrinkle in it, and the tenderest bloom was on the skin. Its body reminded him of the classical sculptures of the great heroes of Ancient Greece. The rippling muscles of Achilles and the brute strength of Herakles.
    The arms were very long and muscular; the hands the same, as if its hold were of uncommon strength. Scrooge could easily image it swinging a mighty club or pulling down wild beast with nothing but brute strength. Its legs and feet, most delicately formed, were, like those upper members, bare. It wore a tunic of the purest white; and round its waist was bound a lustrous belt, the sheen of which was beautiful. It held a branch of fresh green holly in its hand; and, in singular contradiction of that wintry emblem, had its dress trimmed with summer flowers. But the strangest thing about it was, that from the crown of its head there sprung a bright clear jet of light, by which all this was visible; and which was doubtless the occasion of its using, in its duller moments, a great extinguisher for a cap, which it now held under its arm.
    Even this, though, when Scrooge looked at it with increasing steadiness, was not its strangest quality. For as its belt sparkled and glittered now in one part and now in another, and what was light one instant, at another time was dark, so the figure itself fluctuated in its distinctness: being now a thing with one arm, now with one leg, now with twenty legs, now a pair of legs without a head, now a head without a body: of which dissolving parts, no outline would be visible in the dense gloom wherein they melted away. And in the very wonder of this, it would be itself again; distinct and clear as ever.
    “Are you the Spirit, sir, whose coming was foretold to me?” asked Scrooge.
    “I am!”
    The voice was soft and gentle. Singularly low, as if instead of being so close beside him, it were at a distance.
    “Who, and what are you?” Scrooge demanded.
    “I am the Ghost of Christmas Past.”
    “Long Past?” inquired Scrooge: observant of its dwarfish stature.
    “No. Your past.”
    Perhaps, Scrooge could not have told anybody why, if anybody could have asked him; but he had a special desire to see the Spirit in his cap; and begged him to be covered.
    “What!” exclaimed the Ghost, “would you so soon put out, with worldly hands, the light I give? Is it not enough that you are one of those whose passions made this cap, and force me through whole trains of years to wear it low upon my brow!”
    Scrooge reverently disclaimed all intention to offend or any knowledge of having wilfully “bonneted” the Spirit at any period of his life. He then made bold to inquire what business brought him there.
    “Your welfare!” said the Ghost, “and with it the welfare of this good city,” it said as it spread out its arms.
    “There are things more important than your own purse, Scrooge. You have seen the Spirits dragging themselves away from here.  Why do you think they are leaving?  They do not travel for reasons that are minor in nature. Something evil and terrible is coming and it is something you have seen before! It is not far away now and some are already feeling its icy fingers,” it said mysteriously.
    Scrooge expressed himself much obliged, but could not help thinking that a night of unbroken rest would have been more conducive to that end. The Spirit must have heard him thinking, for it said immediately:
    “Your reclamation, then. Take heed!”
    It put out its strong hand as it spoke, and clasped him gently by the arm.
    “Rise!and walk with me!”
    It would have been in vain for Scrooge to plead that the weather and the hour were not adapted to pedestrian purposes; that bed was warm, and the thermometer a long way below freezing; that he was clad but lightly in his slippers, dressing-gown, and nightcap; and that he had a cold upon him at that time. The grasp, though gentle as