#TimeTravelAuthors May 31 Author choice
#TimeTravelingGhost Part 7 (Long)
The word “Goodbye” resounded like a pen’s ultimate declaration, and Ghost found herself in a dark room smelling of mildew. In front of her was a moth-eaten four-poster bed with a figure struggling to arise.
“Have you come to call upon me as well?” inquired the figure, an old gentleman whose nightgown hung on him like a shroud, his cap askew, and blankets heaped around him. “I assure you, good spirit, I am a reformed soul. Pray, tell me, who are you?”
“Time Traveling Ghost, and who might you be?” Ghost took the chance to look around. She found herself in a bedroom furnished only by the bed and a writing desk with a lone bowl, a spoon handle protruding from it. Underfoot was a threadbare carpet with an incongruous holly leaf and three red berries scattered on it.
“Ebenezer Scrooge!” came the astonished reply. “But I was given to understand — most solemnly — that there would be three spirits, and three alone. What business have you here?”
“I think it’s a joke by Author.” Ghost said, as perplexed as Scrooge at the turn of events. She cast her eyes about and spotted Heckle and Jeckle in the corner. “Damn, just my luck they would come along,” she muttered so low Scrooge couldn’t make out the words.
The elder blinked at him, befuddled. “I know not this Arthur of whom you speak, nor have I an appetite for riddles at this hour. The cock has not crowed, and come dawn I am beset by more tasks than I can bear. Go your way, sir, and take your visions with you.”
“I don’t suppose you’d spare me a farthing for a morning cup of coffee?” Ghost asked. “As you say, it’s rather early.”
“Not a farthing, nay, not a penny, ill-begotten beggar!” Scrooge cried, waving his arms as if to banish a vapour. “Begone, figment conjured by the tyrannies of undigested mustard!”
“Changed man,” Jeckle croaked, “Not.”
“Coffee? You’re a ghost,” Heckle screeched. “Hey buddy, can you spare me a dime?”
Scrooge pivoted to where the voices came from. “And what ill-begotten jesters are these? Vile emanations of prunes left too long to stew. Begone, thou late-born fragment of muddled sleep! Coffee indeed! Brazen haunt, seek you an almshouse, not my abode.” And with that, he dove under the covers.
#MicroFiction #NMPrompts #NMTTA
#AChristmasCarol #CharlesDickens #pastiche
#HeckleAndJeckle