“It is required of every man,” the ghost returned, “that the spirit within him should walk abroad among his fellow-men, and travel far and wide; and, if that spirit goes not forth in life, it is condemned to do so after death.”
– Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol
Marley’s ghost haunts still. It was His will to offer me absolution and contrition, but Marley’s mission seems to go beyond that. He has become somewhat of a practical joker. Never mind the poorhouse, Marley had better go to the nuthouse and reduce the surplus population of whatever plane he is assigned to remain upon.
I praise high heavens for the transformation I was afforded. Nephew Fred has embraced the opportunity to take this old fool back into the familial fold.
Cratchett is a devoted partner and friend; more friend than Marley ever was, I’d say without a doubt. But if it was without young Tim, I’d never had gotten him to branch out and become the clark I expected.
Tim. He walks amongst us as if his deformity was not at all normality. I assure him it was we who were crippled in our minds to find him less alive in his malady.
I work less; I walk more. More involved as a human being than being a businessman. And all the better for it, I might add.
The true spirits visit as well, but in celebration of the man I have become. Even the Future Spirit smiles more; at least he does not waggle his boney finger in my direction as much. For that I am most grateful. A fool and his money are happily separated when it is used to fete humanity. To Hades with vanity, Scrooge will be as good a man as this world has seen lo these many Christmases. God bless us, I have tried.