The Ghost of Christmas Future's Arc

Chapter 5 of 9

The Ghost drifted through the fog with his leather book pressed against his ribs. Three new names filled the pages from last night's work. A baker whose cough wouldn't stop. A child with fever. An old woman too weak to leave her bed. He floated toward the infirmary to watch the sick. Near the entrance, workers trimmed a tall hedge into the shape of an angel. Its wings curved upward, branches carefully cut to show each feather. The Ghost paused. This garden marked a place where death came often. He would remember it. Inside, he moved through the halls and listened. Nurses spoke of patients who wouldn't recover. A man with a bad heart. A woman whose wounds had turned black. He opened his book and wrote their names beside the others. Seven names in two nights. His collection was growing. The town hall stood in the square, its steep roof heavy with snow. The Ghost carried his book inside and climbed to the records room. Dust covered the shelves. He cleared a space and set his leather book down. Then he counted—twenty-three names total since he began. Each one written clearly. Each one verified. The work was paying off. He had learned where to look and who to listen to. The living revealed their dying if you knew how to watch. His fingers traced the pages. By winter's end, his collection would be complete. The Ghost closed the book and tucked it back against his ribs. Tomorrow he would find more.