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Scrooge's Bermuda Christmas Spirit

With thanks to Charles Dickens for the three English ones!? "I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future!'' Scrooge repeated, as he scrambled out of bed. Oh Jacob Marley! Heaven, and the Christmas time be praised for this! I say it on my knees, old Jacob, on my knees!'' "How're you doing, Scrooge?'' The voice had an unusual accent which seemed to lengthen the vowels in a sing-song manner. Scrooge turned round in bewilderment. Before him was yet another ghost, faint like December mist, but growing clearer with every second.

Scrooge was so astonished that he could hardly find his voice.

"But...Jacob said I would be visited by three spirits - and if my mastery of book-keeping is but half what it was you are a fourth!'' "You got it!'' answered the spirit from within the dark folds of his ghostly hood.

Scrooge's mood of elation began to falter. Three spirits were bad enough -- but to send another just when he thought it was all over seemed to be overdoing things rather.

"But I have been visited by the spirits of the Past, Present and Future -- who can you be?'' The phantom waved his bony hand as though to dismiss Scrooge's earlier visitants as unworthy of notice.

"I am the spirit of Bermuda in the Far Future, more than a hundred years from today,'' he replied. "Now, if you want to ax me any more questions, you'd better hurry -- because we've a lot to see!'' "What is the far future to me? I will be long dead and all I wish to do now is to sponge away the dreadful visions which the last spirit showed me.'' "Sure, you'll be dead,'' said the spirit, but the Christmas feast will live on -- and I want you to see what it will turn into.'' With that the phantom took Scrooge's hand and together they drifted through his bedroom window.

Higher and higher they rose until Scrooge could see the whole of the city spread out below him like a model. Then a gust of wind caught them in its arms and whisked them Westward. In no time at all, the dim outline of the Cornish coast dwindled behind them, and for a long time after that, the only sight was the empty blackness of the Atlantic Ocean.

"Where are you taking me?'' said Scrooge in a small voice.

"To the Christmas of the Far Future in one of the wealthiest countries of the world,'' announced the spirit in solemn tones, "or to be precise, Christmas Eve in Bermuda in the year of our Lord 1998!'' Then, taking a firm grip on Scrooge's hand, the spirit swooped low and set him down in Hamilton - which he explained was the capital city of this privileged island. The first thing Scrooge noticed was that it was warm -- well, warm by comparison with an English December night! The next thing he noticed were the Christmas lights which glittered with a brilliance that seemed to Scrooge as though the very stars had fallen from the heavens. He shuddered to think of the cost of these illuminations. Why, a million gas mantles at a halfpenny per mantle would not burn nearly so bright -- not to mention the cost of the gas! But if the Christmas lights were a marvel, well, the shops were like so many Aladdin's caves, their windows groaning with goods of every description -- not that Scrooge could describe very much; most of the items for sale being mysterious to him. There was no mystery about their value, though.

"I can see that Old Marley and the three other spirits were right,'' said Scrooge, "Christmas is indeed a wonderful feast -- just one of these shops contains more riches than ever passed through my poor counting house!'' But just as Scrooge was beginning to enjoy himself, the spirit whisked him away -- not this time in spirit fashion, but in Bermuda fashion -- on a scooter. Scrooge wailed in terror - this was worse than flying over the Atlantic with nothing below him but sky -- but the spirit explained that it was necessary to help them blend into the background. The spirit scootered Scrooge to the hidden side of the city to the places where the rich and the tourists never go. Here he saw a beggar, hoping to beg enough for his next bottle of liquor; and over there on the corner, a man dazed with drugs, staring at him with unseeing eyes. Down a back alley he saw rotting condominiums neglected by their landlords, overcrowded, unsanitary and dehumanising -- yet not a thousands yards away from the smart offices of the banks, businesses and exempt companies.

One particular apartment caught his eye: a poor basement with paint peeling from the door. The spirit waved his hand and suddenly they were inside. There a man lay groaning in his bed and two children knelt sobbing by his side. Two women were talking in low voices.

"He must have the operation,'' whispered one.

"But how can we afford it!'' sobbed the other. "His pay has been stopped, and the health insurance will only pay a part of the cost -- what are we to do?'' Scrooge shook his head in sympathy. "Spirit,'' said Scrooge, "What will become of this man?'' "If he don't get that operation, he'll die,'' said the spirit, "but what's it to you -- it will decrease the surplus population.'' The sound of his own cruel words cut Scrooge to the quick. "Have you nothing more cheerful to show me?'' said Scrooge in desperation.

By way of an answer, the spirit scootered Scrooge to another scene.

It was Christmas morning in a Bermuda household. The spirit was at pains to explain to Scrooge that the householder was not a rich man by Bermuda standards -- many were much richer.

Scrooge marvelled at the enormous pile of presents that awaited each child. He was less impressed with the bright-eyed greed with which they tore off the wrappings. But worse was yet to come. When the boy had thrown aside the packaging of his last present, he whined miserably, "I didn't get a DVD Player!'' "That's because you got a Play Station,'' said his sister, grumpily, "and that's not fair, `cause it cost more than my Furby.'' At this point, their mother intervened. "Please, don't argue -- Santa Claus did his best!'' "I don't believe in Santa Claus,'' snapped the boy, "it's all Your fault! I wanted a DVD Player so I could watch all the latest movies on my computer! Scrooge was about to say something, but the spirit whisked him away before he could speak.

"I don't understand,'' said Scrooge over the two-stroke puttering, "why is there so much wealth in some places and such terrible poverty in others -- and what has all this to do with Christmas, and with me?'' "I'll show you one more scene,'' said the spirit, "and then perhaps you'll get it.'' Suddenly Scrooge found himself in a church where a service of Nine Lessons and Carols was taking place. The congregation sang a traditional carol with great gusto, and the choir embellished it with a descant of angelic beauty. The collection was being taken. The spirit explained that the bronze-coloured coins were dollars which had a face value of about half-a-sovereign in the coins that he knew. Scrooge needed no coaching about the paper money, for in nineteenth century England, paper money was only used for sums of high value.

He watched in awe as the collection plate filled up. There were many of the bronze coins, and quite a few notes.

"Spirit,'' said Scrooge, "have I misjudged these people of the far future? Just one of those notes is more than I pay poor old Bob Cratchit in a whole month!'' The spirit frowned. "No way, Scrooge! I told you the face value of those coins, but I didn't tell you what they were worth. That bronze coin ain't worth a farthing in your money and those notes ain't worth no more than a few shillings.'' "And are these the people who shop in Hamilton, and give heaps of presents to their ungrateful children?'' "The same,'' said the spirit, "but this country is no worse than any other -- just richer, and that makes the social problems seem worse -- but I could have showed you New York in the far future, Toronto, or even your own London.

"I still don't understand,'' said Scrooge shaking his head.

"Scrooge, you are enough to vex even a spirit! Now, let me give you a peep into the spiritual reality behind these things.'' The spirit waved his arm and the church scene became suddenly transparent, and through it Scrooge saw a strange and frightening sight. There, sitting on a golden throne, was a fat, gloating, greedy figure, dressed in a coat made of dollar bills, and decked with jewellery made of gold and silver coins. On his right hand side was another figure, overdressed with expensive clothes, bloated with overeating, and surrounded by heaps of expensive presents. On his left hand side sat an alluringly dressed female holding in her hand a long list of the Christmas parties which she planned to visit. At the feet of these figures, trampled in the dirt, were the remains of a straw cradle, from which a tiny baby crawled, sobbing.

"You're looking at the gods of Christmas in the Far Future,'' said the spirit. "There on the throne, sits Mammon, god of worldly wealth. On his right hand side sits Greed, and on his left hand side Lechery. That neglected child is the baby Jesus.'' "Mammon was the god I once worshipped,'' said Scrooge, "and I knew many who worshipped the others -- some even worshipped all three!'' "They sure have a lot of worshippers these days,'' said the spirit, "and this is their chief festival.'' "But what must I do?'' pleaded Scrooge. "It was simple, before. All I had to do was to celebrate Christmas, give some of my money to the old gentleman's charity, and raise Bob's wages.'' "The last two are worth doing -- but what about all the other social problems that charities try to help: alcohol and drug abuse, poverty, inadequate medical provision; and as for Bob Cratchit -- what about all the other underpaid workers?'' "But I cannot possibly support them all!'' "Not all by yourself -- but there is a way. I'll leave you to think about it.

See ya... have a good one... '' The spirit's voice seemed to fade, and with it his body, until it was once again as faint as a December mist -- and then nothing.

Scrooge realised that it was over at last. The blue sky and exotic palms had faded into the grimy brick of nineteenth century London -- but despite that, he felt happy: not the silly, school boyish happiness he had felt after the third spirit had left, but a calmer, more mature happiness. Best of all, the confusion of mind that the fourth spirit had thrown him into was now resolved, and he knew exactly what he must do. He would review Bob's pay and conditions of service, and he would give to charity -- but not just one charity, or once a year -- and there was something else he intended to do, which was even more important.

He was checked in his meditations by the churches ringing out the lustiest peals he had ever heard. Clash, clang, hammer; ding, dong, bell.

Walking to the window, he opened it, and put out his head. "What's today!'' cried Scrooge, calling downward to a boy in Sunday clothes.

"Eh?'' replied the boy, with disbelief "Why, CHRISTMAS DAY!'' "Christmas!'' responded Scrooge sharply, "Bah! Humbug!'' and settled down to write a letter to his MP.

SHORT STORY COMPETITION CPN