The Last of the Spirits by Chris Priestley Read Free Book Online Page A

not happened, but will happen in the time before us,’ said Scrooge. ‘Is that so?’
    Lizzie whimpered again as the tall, cowled figure seemed to bow slightly in agreement, its flowing black robes rippling as it moved. But the phantom did not speak. It just seemed to study Scrooge with its faceless face.
    This unnerved Scrooge even more. He cried out, saying he feared this spirit above all the others, and Sam could believe it was true. How could anything be worse than this? It made Marley’s ghost seem almost comical in comparison. There was a pitilessness in that melancholy figure, the like of which Sam had never encountered. It was like looking into the end of the world.
    ‘Will you not speak to me?’ pleaded Scrooge.
    But it was clear that the spirit would not or could not talk. The hand and its long bony finger pointed away.
    ‘Lead on!’ said Scrooge. ‘Lead on! The night is waning fast, and it is precious to me, I know. Lead on, Spirit!’
    The spirit began to move once more, sliding effortlessly across the frozen ground, blacker than the night, a moving shadow. It slid between Scrooge and Sam, and as it passed Sam felt the robes brush against his hand and he felt pulled along with it.
    The next moment all was darkness.

Sam looked for Lizzie but could not find her. The darkness of that terrible beshadowed hooded emptiness seemed to have enveloped them. He turned and turned and turned but saw nothing, fumbling his way as though a great cloak had been thrown over him.
    Then, all at once, the black curtains parted and Sam saw that he was standing in a busy street under a cloudy sky. Beside him stood the hooded spirit.
    ‘Where’s Liz?’ said Sam. ‘Where’s Lizzie? What have you done with her?’
    The spirit was no more forthcoming with Sam than it had been with old Scrooge. By way of reply, it simply raised its robed arm and pointed its finger at the other end of the street.
    ‘What is this place?’ said Sam. ‘Where are we? Where’s Lizzie?’
    The street was heaving with people, men and women, young and old. They shouted and jostled. Sam knew the grim building towering above them – it was Newgate Prison.
    The street was wet from a recent downpour. The slippery stones shone like the scales of a reptile, reflecting the glowering sky, as Sam and the spirit followed through the crowd.
    Beside the prison was a wooden platform not unlike a stage, though it was a cheerless venue for a play. Near that, set into the wall, was a door, heavy and studded. As Sam tried to make sense of it, the door burst open and a group of people began to walk through. He wondered what the crowd were going to make of seeing a boy and a hooded phantom passing among them, but the crowd paid no heed at all.
    Just as he and Lizzie had gone unseen by all but Lizzie’s younger self, so here Sam and the spirit were invisible to this baying rabble.
    Then Sam saw Lizzie. She was at the front being shoved back and forth as the crowd ebbed and flowed. She almost fell to the ground at one point and he reached out to help her, but his hand passed straight through hers.
    ‘Liz!’ shouted Sam. ‘Liz!’
    Neither Lizzie nor any of the group reacted to his call. Why was Lizzie here among this rabble? Why was she here without him? She never went anywhere without him and would never have come here, to a place like this, even with Sam. Neither had any stomach for this kind of entertainment.
    What was it Scrooge had called them? Shadows. Shadows of the things that have not happened, but will happen in the time before us . . .
    So Sam was looking at the future. This was a glimpse into tomorrow – or at least one of the tomorrows to come. The thought of it sent a shiver through Sam’s innards.
    The crowd cried out and surged forward as a boy was brought out, his wrists bound and his arms gripped by guards. The guards pushed the people back and scuffles broke out. A gap opened up and Sam’s view opened up. The boy being led out looked