It all began with a prayer; a simple prayer of love, joy, and devotion, and one of deep concern and pity. It was made on Christmas Eve by a young man named Fred as he knelt at his bedside. "Gracious Heavenly Father, please help Uncle Scrooge learn to understand the joy of Christmas. He's so bitter and solitary, and it must be ever so lonely all on his own, especially at Christmas. Give him a new reason to love this most joyous season." This prayer was uplifted in the most contriteness of heart and sincerity of spirit; and no sooner had it left his lips than it was received into the heavens among a great swarm of prayers of holiday spirit which rose up in a cloud of Christmas love and goodness.

This particular prayer, borne up in the draft among the rest, fell upon two very important pairs of ears. The first were the ears of a miserable spirit called Jacob Marley, who had been sentenced to wander the earth for a set number of years because of his uncharitable character while living. The other were the ears of one Benael, who happened to be the administrator of the numerous spirits of that jurisdiction. Upon hearing this prayer, Marley's ghost immediately set out for Benael's office, while Benael immediately sent for his secretary, Joseph. "Joseph! Sound your horn and bring me up those special Spirits of mine; the ones who are so fond of roaming the earth during the Christmas season. It's extremely important!"

With a nod, Secretary Joseph raised his horn and let out three short, clear blasts. With each of those three blasts, a Lesser Spirit was summoned into the presence of Benael. These particular three were the Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present, and Future. It was their primary job to instill in all observers of Christmas the love and understanding of Christmas, and to help teach those who did not observe Christmas a better understanding of what it truly meant.

Just as they had all appeared in the presence of Benael, Marley's ghost reached the door of his office and began pounding at it with all his might. Benael smiled, signaling for Joseph to open the door. "I thought you would be along presently, Jacob," he said as Marley pulled himself into the room, dragging his chain of earthly riches after him. "I shall hear your request first: What do you wish?"

Marley threw himself on his knees. "Merciful benefactor, have pity on me! My time on the earth is yet long, as I have not completed the age of wandering I have been set. In life, I had but one associate whom I considered a friend: Ebenezer Scrooge, my business partner and the only close kinship I ever retained in my years. Indeed, I may be the only person who ever drew so near to his own heart, so callous and uncouth he kept himself to all, and keeps himself still. This night I chanced to hear the words spoken by his nephew, beseeching the Heavenly Father to grant unto my friend (for he is the closest to a friend as I have) the knowledge and wisdom and joy imparted by the true spirit of Christmas. Grant me one request: that I also may be sent to him, to warn him of the error of his ways, lest he be doomed to become one such as myself; for already he is treading the path leading to this same fate! I beg of you this one request, to spare him from the condemnation I suffer!" He rattled his chain to carry his point.

Benael laid a comforting hand on Marley's arm. "This request I shall grant you, and also I send you with this message: that these three Spirits shall also visit your friend Scrooge and impart their messages to him." He waved to Secretary Joseph, who jotted these instructions down on a piece of paper, then rolled the paper into a ball and squeezed it up in his fist. When he opened his hand again, the paper had become like a live coal. Obediently, Marley untied the bandage about his head (it had been put on his body when he was buried to keep the jaw shut during his funeral) and let his mouth open as wide as it would go. Secretary Joseph brought him the coal and put it carefully into Marley's mouth, and Marley swallowed it, then rewound the bandage about his head. "I thank you, kind master," he said, putting his forehead to the floor. "While I am bound to no place of rest, I shall bring your word whither you will, as you will."

"I do," said Benael, smiling again and helping Marley to his feet. "Go now to your friend. After you I shall send these three Spirits, one after another. Warn him of their coming, for I shall send no more after!" With another bow, Marley picked up his chain and made his way back out into the earth.

The three Ghosts of Christmas watched this exchange with great interest, and the first two began nudging each other. "I wonder what this Scrooge will be like?" the Ghost of Christmas Present whispered, glowing brightly in its excitement.

"Probably like all the rest," remarked the Ghost of Christmas Future, checking the clock on the wall. "We've had enough of them that they blur together."

"I remember all of them," said the Ghost of Christmas Past proudly. "Each one makes a different impression."

"You would," the Future Ghost muttered, rolling its eyes.

"I hope this one will be successful," sighed the Present Ghost wistfully. "We've had such a downturn lately, especially since industry has picked up."

"Don't get your hopes up." The Future Ghost again eyed the clock. "I sense fewer to come, even as low as it's been."

Once Marley was gone, Benael turned to the three Ghosts. "All right, my little ones; do you each remember your part?"

The first two nodded eagerly, while the Future Ghost stifled a yawn.

Benael reached into a drawer and pulled out a candle that had burned down some ways. "This is the Past of Ebenezer Scrooge," he said, handing it to Christmas Past. "Bring it to him for his rumination." With a bow, the Past Ghost departed.

To the Present Ghost, Benael said, "Go about your task and take this Scrooge with you and show him what you do. Answer all that he asks you and explain your purpose to him." The Present Ghost nodded and was gone.

Noting that it was alone at last, the Future Ghost idly fidgeted with the edge of its robe as Benael opened another drawer and drew out a long, grey thread that flickered and wavered, as if unsure of its own existence. "This is the Possible Future of the Old Scrooge," he told it, putting the thread into its hand. "It will show him what will happen if he does not mend his ways before his mortal end."

The Ghost took the thread, stowing it carefully in its pocket, then hesitated. "I ask your pardon, sir, but… do I have to talk to him?"

This was the first time it had ever asked this question; for the most part, it simply refused speaking to mortals in general. Truth be told, this Ghost was not really connected with Christmas at all; as a matter of fact, the most fitting instrument at its disposal might be said to be the wisdom and fear of death and the uncertainty of the future. There are many Spirits of this nature, and Death itself is their kin and often rides close behind them; but this particular one tried to have little to do with mortals. One of its favorite past-time amusements was focused on seeing how far it could send gusts of snowy wind to get them to blow up the skirts and coats of senile aristocrats.

But Benael was greatly pleased at its asking, and patted its head as one would a small child. "You like not dealing with mortals?" he laughed lovingly. "It ill suits you?"

"I'll do whatever you ask me to, sir," said the Spirit submissively. "But, to be frank, sir, I find them… tiresome." It substituted this instead of "irritating" or "annoying."

Benael understood its meaning anyway. "Indeed?" he chuckled again. "Hold your peace, if so you wish it; but I feel this endeavor may do both you and he great good."

The Spirit bowed humbly, a sinking feeling in the pit of its stomach. "I accept all improvements for the glory of the Creator." With another chuckle, Benael kissed its forehead, then sent it on its way.

The Spirit descended from the heavenlies with a sigh, rather annoyed at its new task. Like the other two, it was still rather young and had a bit of growing to do before it could ascend into the Great Heavens; but growing does not always come easily, even for Spirits. For those who serve the Master of All Things, defiance of command does not enter consciousness, or even the realm of possibility; for no Spirit who truly serves the Master can (nor desires to) defy His word, regardless of whether they are still green enough to feel reluctance to do so for any discomfort or anxieties by it.

Finding the moment it had been appointed, the Spirit hovered outside the world of Earth and debated what form it ought to take when it appeared before this Scrooge. Its usual form often consisted of a shrouding mist, for that was so frequently mistaken for fog that it was often passed by unnoticed and left alone. But the task at hand was to be made visibly known; to let Scrooge see him clearly and distinctly. For that, it would need something of a more earthly substantiality. It didn't quite like the idea of having to look Scrooge full in the eye, so it settled for a simple shroud that covered it from head to foot; to mortal eyes, this would appear as nothing more than a figure in mantle and hood. This should give enough of an appearance familiar enough to grasp as stately; for making a good impression was a factor of importance on this occasion, else Benael would not have sent it. Having prepared itself, it stepped through the boundaries of Earth and Heaven and into the appointed moment of Time.

Immersing itself in the mortal world was a bit of a confusing affair, for all the senses of noise and color became drastically more intense, and its head swam a little before it got its bearings. It now stood in a place where the ground was covered with snow and cold, and before it stood a man garbed as one having just taken to sleep; or, rather, having meant to take to sleep, for there was no trace of sleep about him otherwise. His face was wrinkled with age, but his starting eyes shone with wonder and fear of the things he had seen; even in the declining flesh could still be seen the wisdom and majesty of the Creator. Out of reflex, the Spirit contracted the midnight darkness into itself and, with slow caution, proceeded towards Scrooge.

When it reached him, Scrooge dropped to his knees, trembling. Without waiting for a response, the Spirit took the thread it had been given and tossed it into the air, where it stretched taught and opened into a Window of Possibility, though invisible to Scrooge. The Spirit pointed in that direction, waiting for Scrooge to understand.

Scrooge didn't move; clearly, he had expected some verbal response, for he said with quivering voice, "I am in the presence of the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come?"

Pinching its lips together, the Spirit stubbornly pointed at the Window, hoping to speed the process along. Waiting for the mortal to catch on to the business was usually the slowest part of its role; most were compliant enough, as fear was a decent motivator, and few questioned its refusal to speak. Most mortals it had administered to were also somewhat more composed; this Scrooge fellow seemed already significantly shaken. Perhaps it was because the general belief in its kind had dwindled somewhat in this corner of the earth.

"You are about to show me shadows of the things that have not happened, but will happen in the time before us," Scrooge pressed more earnestly. "Is that so, Spirit?"

Fighting its rising impatience, the Spirit gave a nod to signify its affirmation, then pointed onward with its visible hand. The poor man was trembling so much that at first he could not stand; indeed, he almost fell with the effort. The Spirit wavered uncomfortably, wondering if it ought to help, but before it had to decide Scrooge was on his feet. "Ghost of the Future!" he cried. "I fear you more than any Spectre I have seen. But as I know your purpose is to do me good, and as I hope to live to be another man from what I was, I am prepared to bear you company, and do it with a thankful heart." He glanced up, peering under the hood, as if searching for a recognizable face. "Will you not speak to me?"

The Spirit stubbornly clenched its jaw; it had been given permission not to speak, and would hold to it until it was ready to do so. This could be improved upon, but at its desired pace, as its Master would allow. Still it pointed mutely to the Window of Possibility. At last, Scrooge relented and followed its gesture, gasping, "Lead on! Lead on! The night is waning fast, and it is precious time to me, I know. Lead on, Spirit!"

As Scrooge drew near, the Spirit moved through the Window, not taking the man's hand directly, but allowing him to ride the mist of the train of its cloak. Thus they entered the Possible Future, where the Spirit directed his attention to various points marked of importance. Like all Possibilities, this Possible Future of the Old Scrooge contained much that would come to pass if left to itself; for these Possibilities to be averted, the mortal it concerned must choose themselves to change and, depending on the mortal's own nature, make a spoken confession to do so. This was part of the reason the Spirit kept its mouth shut for its part of the journey; the part of self discovery must be made by the human alone. Upon certain occasions, if this could not be achieved, Death was the final Spirit to arrive.

It must be said that, in many instances, this Spirit was often mistaken for Death, mainly due to its usual forms of preference. This rather annoyed the Spirit, for Death was very unlike itself, being considerably older, for one. The Spirit knew no fear of Death, for death must come to all flesh, and it itself, as a Spirit, was beyond its reach. Death, in the mortal world, held a mystery to all that frightened most and was alluring to some. For the Spirits, Death held two meanings, only one of which was really to be feared, and then only if there had been a serious offence against the Creator Himself; the death of the flesh was simply a crossing over from one world to the next. Scrooge, however, being mortal himself, knew none of this, and so could only try to guess at the meaning of all the Spirit drew his attention to.

As they flitted through various images, the Spirit began to study this Ebenezer. There was nothing remarkable of him, as far as mortals go; nothing significant in his appearance or way of standing. He did carry about himself a certain air that marked him as changed; as a man who has been through quite an ordeal or many ordeals in a short space of his time; but that also was nothing to be considered out of the ordinary. The Spirit was impartial on all of these points, its only concern being to direct his gaze to what he was meant to observe. It did, however, note how Scrooge seemed to be looking for something or someone, for his eye roved through all as if in search of a particular detail he could not find; probably for his own future self, not realizing that this was a Possible Future in which he had recently died.

Turning his head, Scrooge noted its gaze on him and shivered. Trying to quicken the pace of their journey, the Spirit brought him forward to a little shop where a few other mortals had stripped some of the dead Scrooge's earthly items and pawned them off for things of earthly value. The Spirit could little understand what humans saw in the scraps of stuff they called "money"; it was so temporary and irrelevant that it saw nothing that could possibly draw their interest so heavily, save that it might carry some sort of appeal to the eye. Clearly, though, these people thought there was something in it; even Scrooge gazed with horrified disgust at their glee, obviously carrying some attachment to material items himself. Still, however, he did not yet recognize that this was his own Possible Future, for he said, "Spirit! I see, I see. The case of this unhappy man might be my own. My life tends that way, now."

Caving at last to its gnawing impatience, the Spirit abruptly transported the man to the room where the dead Scrooge lay, covered beneath a thin sheet. Startled, Scrooge stumbled back from the bed, crying, "Merciful Heaven, what is this!" In answer, the Spirit pointed to the head, meaning for him to uncover it and view his own dead face, eagerly awaiting the moment the man would hurry up and grasp the point. But still he stood, shaking and pale, his eyes wide and alight with the inner aura of a frantically working mind. The Spirit did not quite understand what was so dreadful about the scene to him; was it not only an empty shell, after all, now a material thing and nothing more? It had once encased a mortal soul, but no longer did; the soul had departed, leaving nothing but the perishable dust from which it was made. This mortal fear of the Earthly Death was foreign to the Spirit, yet a very real thing for Scrooge; he could not bring himself to look upon the body at all, but hid his eyes in terror.

"Spirit!" he gasped out at last, "this is a fearful place. In leaving it, I shall not leave its lesson, trust me. Let us go!"

This continual insistence on missing the point was no less irritating than it had been before. The Spirit kept its hand out, pointing to the head of the figure. When would the man start paying attention and really look?

Scrooge drew back, putting his hands over his face. "I understand you," he said, almost in a sob, "and I would do it, if I could. But I have not the power, Spirit. I have not the power."

This statement was surprisingly profound, bringing the Spirit to stare long and hard at him. It had not occurred to it till then that Scrooge may not have been the only one who ought to pay better attention; "really looking," indeed! The sudden understanding of the weight of fear on this man's heart came almost as a shock at its own shortsightedness; for it too was not yet wholly liberated from the unpleasant sensation. Fear was no evil thing, to be sure; dread was something else entirely.

As it contemplated, Scrooge spoke again in urgent distress. "If there is any person in the town, who feels emotion caused by this man's death, show that person to me, Spirit, I beseech you!"

Stifling a sigh, the Spirit waved its arm and brought them to the next scene, where a family who had been in debt to Scrooge were now suddenly relieved at his death. As Scrooge watched them, his expression betrayed his rising anxiety for the dead man he still failed to grasp may yet be himself. The Spirit wondered how long this process was meant to take, and how long it would take Scrooge to decipher the message he was meant to find. This Possible Future did not necessarily predict the point of the man's death; in fact, that Scrooge might live was highly likely, unless the shock from the whole affair was strong enough to kill him, which seemed unlikely, in spite of his age. Regardless of their choice, most mortals outlived the whole ordeal by many years, save for the special few whom Death pursued. The Spirit wondered vaguely whether Scrooge was such a mortal; if he were, then Death would be near at hand. While it did not fear Death, the Spirit had no wish to be present if that happened.

Again Scrooge turned to the Spirit, near desperation. "Let me see some tenderness connected with a death, or that dark chamber, Spirit, which we left just now, will be for ever present to me."

The Spirit's jaw clenched at the quiver in the man's voice, focusing all its attention on bringing them to the new scene. This happened to be the home of Bob Cratchit, whom the Old Scrooge was renowned for mistreating with a meager salary. As a poor man with a sick child, the conditions which the little Cratchit family lived in could only dwindle until at last, inevitably, one must pay the price in full. This was also one of the last scenes in the thread before its end; all about them now, shadows began to flicker and waver. Scrooge noted this too, for he huddled closer to the Spirit's side (at which it unconsciously shied away). "Spectre, something informs me that our parting moment is at hand. I know it, but I know not how." Looking up under the Spirit's hood, trying to find a face to gaze into, he asked, "Tell me what man that was whom we saw lying dead?"

Finally, the man was on the right trail at last! The Spirit quickly conveyed him to the court by the old churchyard, where lay the dead. The Spirit pointed to the gate of the graveyard, but Scrooge tarried, walking back towards a nearby building. "This court, through which we hurry now, is where my place of occupation is," he explained hurriedly, "and has been for a length of time. I see the house. Let me behold what I shall be, in days to come."

If he wanted to do that, he had better follow; the Spirit kept its finger pointing to the graveyard. Scrooge was clearly puzzled. "The house is yonder," he said, pointing to it. "Why do you point away?" He went on to the window and looked in, but, of course, saw not himself. As the Spirit had not moved, he rejoined it and followed it into the graveyard.

The Spirit went directly to the grave it wanted and pointed directly to it, ready for the moment of clarity it had been waiting for. Scrooge approached, his whole figure shaking; it seemed that, at last, he had grasped the Spirit's meaning, for he went very slowly and with many trembling pauses. Halfway there he stopped and faced the Spirit once again; his face had gone white and his eyes were round and glistening. "Before I draw nearer to that stone to which you point, answer me one question. Are these the shadows of things that Will be, or are they shadows of things that May be, only?"

The Spirit stiffened, its stomach churning with something it did not quite know the name of, and yet that it knew very well; if it had had a physical form, it would have called it "nausea." It did not like to look at Scrooge while he was like this; shivering and pale and broken. It swallowed hard, trying to remain completely immobile as it fought to avoid ending this journey with what, in the physical realm, would qualify as throwing up.

"Men's courses will foreshadow certain ends, to which, if persevered in, they must lead," Scrooge persisted, tears now flowing freely down his face. "But if the courses be departed from, the ends will change. Say it is thus with what you show me!"

The Spirit locked its body to keep its visible hand steady. It knew the desperate pleading and begging for mercy well; most mortals did it when confronted with Death, or what they thought was Death; but this man was unnerving in a way no mortal had been before. This must assuredly have been what Benael had meant by this doing both of them good; now it was fighting its own battle.

Blinded by tears, Scrooge fumbled towards the headstone and read the name upon it: EBENEZER SCROOGE. "Am I that man who lay upon the bed?" He collapsed to his knees and began sobbing in earnest. "No, Spirit! Oh, no, no!"

The Spirit fought down a wave of something like panic; it pitied the poor man, of course, but the sudden urgency to be gone rose up strong enough nearly to suffocate it. Scrooge turned, desperately clutching at the Spirit's cloak. "Spirit, hear me! I am not the man I was. I will not be the man I must have been but for this intercourse. Why show me this, if I am past all hope?"

And there it was; Scrooge had at last arrived at the Turning Point! The Spirit waited to be released from its duty, but there appeared no change. They had completed the journey, had they not? Where was Benael? Would he not give it permission to return to the Heavens? Was there still something yet to be done?

Unable to contain the stress any longer, the Spirit's outstretched hand began quivering. Scrooge noted its repose breaking and clung to it more fiercely. "Good Spirit," he cried. "Your nature intercedes for me, and pities me. Assure me that I may yet change these shadows you have shown me, by an altered life!"

The Spirit tried to clench its hand to stop it from shaking so violently, but it had almost left its control; where was Benael!?

Then, just as the Spirit had been dreading, Scrooge grabbed its hand, pulling it towards him. "I will honour Christmas in my heart," he sobbed in anguish, "and try to keep it all the year. I will live in the Past, Present, and the Future. The Spirits of all Three shall strive within me. I will not shut out the lessons that they teach. Oh, tell me I may sponge away the writing on this stone!"

Instinctively the Spirit jerked its hand away, trying to free itself, but Scrooge clutched at it even harder; his grip was burning hot with raw emotion, passion searing through it. They fought like this, pulling back and forth, for only a little time; but all through its duration, the Spirit felt all the frenzy of the man's entreaty surging through it like a wave of fire. It held out for as long as it could bear, silently beseeching release all the while. Finally, the Heavens opened, and it fled on the wings of the wind back to Benael's office, panting and shaky.

Benael laughed when it had returned, helping it up off the floor. "Well done, good and faithful servant! You are now the Older for it."

Still panting, the Spirit dusted itself off. "And what… was that meant to prove?"

"You are still Growing," Benael told it. "Growing takes time, but also experience. You must not disdain the world of flesh or its properties, for the Maker Himself became such for all. These journeys will help give you a better look at small things, just as they help these mortals see better the grand things."

The Spirit frowned, thinking this over. Its hand was still tingling from Scrooge's touch, but it almost felt more real. "Perhaps it was for the best," it acknowledged, looking at it on all sides. Feeling a mild curiosity, it asked, "And what will now happen to the man Scrooge?"

"Whatever he so chooses," Benael answered, smiling. "And now, little one, there is much more to be done! Go now whither you will, and with a stronger heart!"

Gratefully, the Spirit bowed and returned to roam the Heavens, feeling that now it could accomplish any task it set its hand to. Above, it could sense a smile from the Creator looking upon His work; how fond He was of all His little Spirits!