The Ghost of Christmas Future's Arc

Chapter 2 of 9

The Ghost of Christmas Future opened his leather book and stared at the blank pages. He needed to learn how people lived before he could know how they would die. His hollow eye sockets scanned the empty mausoleum around him. The shelves waited for names, but first he had to find them. He floated toward the door, his robes trailing behind him. The fog outside called to him. Tonight he would begin watching. Tonight he would start his collection. The infirmary sat at the edge of town, its roof heavy with fresh snow. The Ghost drifted through its wooden walls without a sound. Inside, three beds held the sick and dying. An old woman coughed into her thin blanket. A man with gray skin breathed in shallow gasps. The Ghost watched them, his skeletal fingers opening the leather book. He learned their faces. He listened to their quiet words. One name entered his mind, then another. His bone hand scratched the letters onto the first blank page. The ink dried black and permanent. Outside the mausoleum, a fountain stood in the winter air. Black gems lined its stone edges, and carved figures stared out from its base. The Ghost filled a wooden bucket with its cold water. He carried it back through the doors to his archive. The shelves still stood empty, but now his book held two names. He set the bucket down near the wall where he would clean the stone when more names filled the pages. His collection had begun. By Christmas, the shelves would tell their stories. For now, he had learned what he needed. Death came slowly, but he would be ready.