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Oh how quickly we forget…

As autumn settled over London, the air grew crisp, and the streets buzzed with anticipation of Thanksgiving. The smell of roasted chestnuts wafted through the air, and shopkeepers displayed their harvest bounty, drawing customers eager to prepare their feasts. However, deep in the heart of his cold office, Ebenezer Scrooge remained oblivious to the festivities outside. Once again, he had returned to his selfish and solitary ways, having let go of the warmth of Christmas past. In almost a year, Scrooges Heart had grown Cold and he once again became a despised man of London. Even going so far to fire his Nephew after a minor disagreement.

Scrooge sat at his desk, shuffling through piles of papers as he muttered about expenses and profits. Bob Cratchit, his loyal clerk, worked diligently in the corner, shivering as he rubbed his hands together for warmth. “It’s nearly Thanksgiving, sir. Wouldn’t it be nice to allow a little more cheer into our lives?”

Bob ventured hesitantly, glancing toward the window where laughter lingered.

Scrooge glanced up, his brow furrowing. “Bah! Thanksgiving is merely an excuse for the lazy to feast and waste time. You’ll work as hard as ever, Cratchit, and take no more nonsense!”

Dejected, Bob returned to his tasks, but in his heart, he held a flicker of hope. That evening, after work, he rushed home to his family, determined to make the most of their modest Thanksgiving meal. Meanwhile, Scrooge grumbled his way home, unaware of the heavy shadows that were soon to appear on his doorstep.

That night, as Scrooge settled into bed, his mind filled with thoughts of misers and profits, he heard a strange rustling sound. The room grew cold, and he pulled the covers tightly around him.

Just then, the ghost of Jacob Marley, his former business partner, appeared, dragging chains and weighed down by the burdens of his long-ago choices. A shiver of pure fear entered Scrooge’s Bones. His eyes saw,a ghastly sight.

“Ebenezer Scrooge!” Marley’s voice echoed ominously. “I am doomed to wander the earth, bound by the greed I embraced in life. But fear not! There is a chance for you yet. Tonight, you will be visited by three spirits! They will show you the truth behind your heart’s coldness.”

The first spirit arrived shortly after, a gentle figure wrapped in a warm, golden glow—the Ghost of Thanksgiving Past. “Come with me, Scrooge,” the spirit beckoned. With a wave of her hand, they were transported back to the joyful memories of Scrooge’s youth.

They stood outside a bustling schoolhouse where young Ebenezer, with wide eyes, engulfed in books, embraced the spirit of the season through stories and fables of generosity. “This was the time of year you cherished most,” she said gently, as Scrooge watched his younger self, laughter echoing through the halls.

Time shifted, and they were suddenly inside a humble pub filled with cheering friends and family. Scrooge saw his joyous younger self raising a glass, surrounded by laughter and song. “You had love and camaraderie, Scrooge! Do you remember? The joy of sharing in a feast with others?”

“Yes, I remember,” he whispered, a wave of nostalgia washing over him. But the warmth of those memories quickly dimmed as he recalled how he let them slip away, pushing away loved ones in the pursuit of wealth.

The spirit then whisked him forward to the present Thanksgiving, revealing the Cratchit household preparing for their meager meal. Bob’s young children gathered around a small, overcooked bird, their eyes sparkling with delight. Tiny Tim, frail yet filled with hope, smiled wide, his laughter ringing sweetly. “With love, we are rich already, father!” he exclaimed.

Scrooge felt a pang in his heart as he acknowledged how the Cratchits, despite their struggles, embraced the spirit of gratitude. It struck him how they made the best of their situation, and he felt the coldness within him begin to crack.

As the evening wore on, the Ghost of Thanksgiving Present appeared—a not so jolly figure with a hearty, yet eerie laugh and a bountiful feast surrounding him was not happening. “Look, Scrooge! See how the festive spirit ties people together!”

With those words, the spirit led Scrooge through the streets of London. They stopped at various homes, where laughter and joy filled the air. They saw families sharing food, love, and warmth, and Scrooge felt something strange—a longing to be part of it all.

But then the spirit paused, his demeanor shifting as they approached a family where the atmosphere grew grim. Scrooge looked in horror to see the Cratchit household once more, the warmth now overshadowed by concern as Bob struggled to hide the worry etched on his brow. “Tim is still not well,” Bob confided, his voice heavy with concern. SCROOGE realized he had made a promise to help Tiny Tim and he had failed to follow up on his promises of help. And Bob was too proud to Ask and too fearful of losing his job to ask.

“No!” Scrooge gasped, a rush of panic overwhelming him. “There must be something I can do!”

The Ghost of Thanksgiving Present looked at him with kind yet sorrowful eyes. “You have the power to change this, Scrooge, but you must first confront the choices you have made.”

As the Ghost of Thanksgiving Present waved his hand once more, the world around Scrooge began to shift and blur. The warmth of the festive spirit faded away, replaced by a chilling gloom that surrounded them. They stood amidst the shadows of the bustling streets, where holiday merriment seemed a distant echo.

“Look closer, Scrooge,” the ghost urged gently, his voice resonating with solemnity.

As Scrooge peered into the dimly lit alleyways, his heart sank. Before him lay scenes of poverty that pierced through his indifference like shards of ice. Ragged families huddled together for warmth, their thin, malnourished bodies wrapped in tattered clothing. Scrooge watched a mother, her face lined with worry and despair, as she tried to soothe her feverish child. The little one coughed weakly, wrapped in a makeshift blanket, while the mother desperately searched for a morsel of food—a crust of bread, a scrap of hope.

Further down the alley, he beheld a group of emaciated children, their bellies distended from hunger, their eyes wide and pleading. They scavenged through refuse, rummaging for anything that might quell the gnawing void in their stomachs. One little girl, her face streaked with dirt, held a torn toy—a relic from happier times. She clutched it tightly, bringing a sliver of joy to a heart that felt only emptiness.

“These are the people you ignore, Scrooge,” the ghost whispered, his voice heavy with compassion. “They suffer in silence, invisible to those who turn their gaze away.”

Scrooge’s breath hitched as he took in the sight. The laughter and cheer of the season felt like a cruel contrast to the suffering in front of him. He felt a tightening in his chest, a swelling guilt that seeped into his very bones.

As they moved through the city, the scenes only grew more grim. An old man, frail and bent, sat shivering on a street corner, holding a small sign that read “Hungry and Alone.” His eyes were hollow, reflecting a lifetime of hardship. Nearby, a young boy hovered over a makeshift fire, trying desperately to keep warm on the cold cobblestones, the smoke curling into the air like the remnants of dreams long extinguished.

Scrooge’s heart ached with every moment, each glimpse into the lives of those he had previously written off. He clutched at his chest, a newfound awareness dawning upon him. The laughter he had once cherished now felt like a mockery in the face of such despair.

“Is it too late to change?” Scrooge whispered, a tremor in his voice.

The ghost turned to him, sympathy etched on his features. “It is never too late, Scrooge. Your heart can still be warmed, and your actions can bring light into the darkest corners. But you must first confront the choices you have made—and choose a different path.”

As the scenes faded, Scrooge remained rooted in place, overwhelmed by the depth of his neglect. He could no longer deny the suffering around him, and a determination began to kindle within. The faces of those he had witnessed would no longer be mere shadows in his memory; they would urge him to act, to change, to care.

PART II

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The Ghost of Thanksgiving Present extended a hand, and a gentle smile crossed his lips. With a soft whisper, he said, “Remember, Scrooge, the future is not yet written.” In that moment, the vibrant colors of the room began to swirl, fading into a mist of shimmering light. As the ghost’s figure transformed into glowing particles, Scrooge could feel a warmth enveloping him, a promise of hope lingering in the air. With a final nod, the ghost vanished completely, leaving Scrooge alone in the dim light of the room.

Feeling the weight of exhausted eyelids, Scrooge surrendered to sleep, a soft smile remaining on his face.

When the first rays of sunlight peeked through the window, they danced across his aged visage, pulling him from the depths of slumber. Scrooge awoke with a start, his heart racing. He blinked at the golden light streaming in, and then, to his own surprise, a joyful peal of laughter escaped his lips, echoing throughout the room. He felt a lightness within him he hadn’t known in years—a giddy exhilaration that propelled him out of bed.

He quickly dressed, hardly caring that he fumbled with his buttons and his footwear, his excitement overriding every obstacle. With each eager step, he made his way down the creaky staircase, laughter bubbling up inside him—the promise of a new dawn energizing his every move.

Bursting through the door and into the bustling street, Scrooge reveled in the crisp morning air. He spread his arms wide, his heart singing with unrestrained joy as he embraced the world around him. The streets seemed brighter, the sounds of laughter and life swirling around him like a joyful symphony. For the first time in ages, he truly felt alive, ready to share kindness and warmth, embracing the spirit of giving that he had long neglected. Today was not just another day; it was the first day of a new chapter in his life, and he was determined to make it count.

Scrooge hurried down the bustling streets of London, determination propelling him forward. As he passed the baker’s shop, he stopped and bought dozens of loaves of fresh bread, their aroma a testament to warmth and nourishment. He continued onwards, his mind racing with ideas of how he could spread kindness throughout the city.

Arriving at the butcher shop, Scrooge approached the bewildered butcher with a wide smile that might have startled him in the past. “I would like to purchase all of your turkeys!” Scrooge declared, pointing excitedly at the plump birds lining the counter.

The butcher’s eyes bulged in surprise. “All of them, Mr. Scrooge? For what purpose?”

“For the poor, my good man! For the families who have none,” Scrooge responded, feeling lighter with each word. With a jovial insistence, he looked around the shop, preparing for his next task.

After paying for the turkeys, he instructed the butcher to pack them up and prepare deliveries for the various soup kitchens around the city. He turned and exclaimed, “And one especially large turkey for the Cratchit family! Make sure they receive it!”

The butcher nodded, trying to comprehend the transformation in the once-mean old man. Scrooge felt a thrill of joy as he continued on his way, sensing the warmth of the community that he was now a part of.

Moving through the streets, he noticed the families preparing for Thanksgiving celebration—their laughter echoed, bringing a new music to his ears. It fueled his enthusiasm. Scrooge reached the local food kitchens, where lines of people waited patiently, their faces hopeful yet weary. With his heart buoyed by compassion, he stepped forward and handed out money to those in charge, insisting, “Make sure that everyone who comes through these doors today receives a hearty meal, treats, and what they need to keep their spirits up!”

His generosity spread like wildfire; smiles ignited where once there had been despair. The gratitude of those he helped wrapped around him like the warmest of blankets.

“Thank you, Mr. Scrooge! You’re making a difference!” they exclaimed, and each thanks felt like a jolt of energy, solidifying his new path.

As the day wore on, Scrooge knocked on the door of the Cratchit home, his heart racing with a mix of excitement and nervousness. When Bob opened the door, his surprise was palpable.

“Mr. Scrooge! What—what brings you here?” Bob stuttered, shocked to see his employer at the threshold, especially on Thanksgiving Day.

With a broad smile, Scrooge held up the massive turkey. “Bob, I’ve come to spread some happiness this Thanksgiving! You and your family deserve a feast!”

The joy in Bob’s eyes was profound. “Mr. Scrooge, this is far, far too generous. We are grateful, but…”

“There’s no need for thanks, Bob. I want to do this. Today is a day for gratitude and generosity, and I have much to give!”

Tiny Tim peeked out from behind his father, and his face lit up with excitement at the sight of the turkey. “Mr. Scrooge! Does this mean we can have a feast?” he exclaimed, his little voice bursting with enthusiasm.

“It means you’ll have more than just a feast, my dear boy. It means many happy Thanksgivings to come.” Scrooge felt emotions flood his heart at the radiance of their joy, his soul as light as a feather.

As he spent the afternoon with the Cratchit family, sharing stories, laughter, and even a few tears of joy, Scrooge realized that he had finally embraced the true spirit of Thanksgiving. They sat together at their humble table, enjoying the lavish spread that Scrooge had provided. Tiny Tim’s cheerful laugh rang out, a melody of hope.

From that day forward, Scrooge became known as one of the most generous men in London. He visited the poor and gave freely to those in need, never forgetting the lessons that had ignited his heart. Thanksgiving became not just an annual holiday for Scrooge; it transformed into a season of giving and sharing that stretched across the entire year.

And in the years to come, when the leaves turned amber and gold, the warmth of Thanksgiving carried through the streets of London, ignited by one man’s redemption turned towards generosity, reminding all that it’s never too late to change, to love, and to give.

“God bless us, everyone!” Tiny Tim would often say, and it was a sentiment that echoed in the hearts of everyone Scrooge touched.

And Scrooge went and hired his Nephew back with full back pay.

The End