It was still dark and silent when Scrooge awoke. As soon as he came to full consciousness the bells of the nearby church started chiming again, as if on cue. He slowly counted as the bell again tolled twelve.

"Why, it's not possible," he thought. "I cannot have slept through a whole day and part of another night, and it cannot be midday, it's too dark!" He scrambled out of bed and groped his way to the window. No help there, it was still very foggy, dark and very cold, and the streets were deserted.

He crept back to bed, his mind puzzling again and again the strange encounters with Marley's Ghost and of the Ghost of Christmas Past. Every time he resolved, after mature consideration, that it had all been a dream. Yet every time some little corner of his mind jeered at him that it had been no dream, that it had all been real.

He was beginning to relax, seeing that there was no other apparition, when a ruddy blazing light began to stream under the door of his bedroom. It was so bright and blinding that somehow he found it more alarming than a dozen ghosts.

Scrooge got up and tiptoed to the door. The moment his hand touched the knob, a strange voice called him by his name and bade Scrooge to join him. Trembling, he obeyed and opened the door.

He looked around, puzzled. It was his own room, the very same room he had just walked out of, no doubt about that, but at the same time it was a totally different room. A surprising transformation had taken place.

The walls and ceiling were hung with greenery, lush with bright glistening berries, holly mistletoe and ivy, making it look like a grove. The chimney-place was blazing with such a cheerful roaring fire as Scrooge's thrifty habits had never allowed. Heaped on the floor, making a throne of sorts, were all sorts of delicacies, from turkeys to suckling-pigs, and plum-puddings, and mince-pies. And oranges, apples, chocolates and candied fruits. On top of this pile sat a fat jolly man bearing a glowing torch shaped like a Horn of Plenty. He wore glasses that twinkled merrily in the reflected light from the fire, and shorts that showed plump hairy legs.

"Come in, Sean Scrooge, come in and know me better. I am the Ghost of Christmas Present," the spirit exclaimed.

Scrooge entered timidly. This spirit had a kindly air but still he was wary of what would come from this visit.

"I have many brothers, and all are out and about tonight, spreading the love of this Christmas, but I have been sent to you so that you may know what the true spirit of Christmas is," the ghost said as he rose from his strange throne.

Scrooge bowed his head. "Spirit, I am ready... Guide me where you will. Last night I went with the other spirit on compulsion, and I learned a lesson I will not easily forget. Tonight I come with you of my own free will."

"Keep hold of my arm then!"

Scrooge did as he was told and the room vanished, the greenery and the food and the blazing hearth disappearing in a vortex of shapes and colors. When the vortex stilled they were standing in the city streets on Christmas morning.

Though the sky was gloomy and misty, the atmosphere was cheerful, with people bustling about, kids snowball fighting and shop windows overflowing with opulence. Church bells called and people flocked to Christmas mass, dressed in their best.

The spirit beamed on all this and often stopped to smile benignly at passers-by and sprinkle them with something from his torch. Every time he did this, the atmosphere of cheerfulness and goodwill seemed to increase.

"Is there some peculiar magic in your torch?" Scrooge inquired curiously.

"There is, my own magic," the spirit replied.

"And you sprinkle it so liberally on everyone? Isn't it valuable?"

"It is because it is very valuable that I sprinkle it so liberally... On everyone, but on poor unhappy people most, because they need it most," the spirit answered, leading Scrooge into an area of the city that looked drab and run down.

The spirit stopped on the threshold of a miserable looking house and blessed it with a very generous sprinkling from his torch. Scrooge peered from behind the spirit's shoulder at the name on the piece of cardboard tagged onto the door. It read 'Viggo Cratchit'.

Scrooge eagerly rushed to the window and looked inside his employee's one-room home. Cratchit was curled on the bed, shivering under a threadbare blanket and hugging something to his chest. Sean watched unblinkingly as Viggo had to shift up from his lying position, his body racked by a fit of coughing that apparently made it hard for him to breathe.

Scrooge's face turned grim as he saw how difficult it was for Viggo's breathing to overcome the spasm and go back to a normal rhythm. And the look turned to something like awe as he saw that what Viggo had been hugging was one of Scrooge's own dirty shirts.

His attention was so totally concentrated on Viggo that he barely noticed the spirit speaking to him.

"Come, we must move on. Time is running and there is many a house my torch needs to light today," the ghost urged.

"Spirit, I beg you, allow me some more moments here. Certainly there are families along this same road you need to visit while I can wait here and think of how I have wronged this man," Scrooge pleaded.

The spirit stared shrewdly at Scrooge, then acquiesced and moved on, leaving him alone in front of Viggo's window.

***

After a while Viggo was able to breathe again, though each gulp of air gave him pain. These frequent bouts of coughing were starting to scare him. Each time they lasted longer and felt worse, as if his lungs were trying to escape from his chest. Each time it became more difficult for him to catch his breath and for his heart to stop pounding.

Worried, he burrowed his face into Scrooge's shirt, panting softly into it, feeling the comforting softness of the worn fabric and the smell of the man he loved. As one hand held the shirt to his face, the other crept slowly down to the waistband of his pants and slid in, palming his cock.

He usually tried as much as possible to avoid indulging himself this way. It only made him feel more keenly his longing for Scrooge, but today he felt so cold and alone and scared he needed to lose himself in a dream of love and pleasure, if only for a few moments.

He worked his cock, his eyes closed and his mind focused on remembering how it felt to have Scrooge inside him, the muffled groan that escaped him in that moment when warmth spilled inside Viggo, the only moment Viggo would feel really warm in his life. And as release came, he called out to Sean, using the name he would never dare use in the presence of his employer.

***

Scrooge watched, stunned, as Viggo pleasured himself while hugging his old shirt and he was even more stunned when he saw Viggo's lips shape his very own name as he came.

When the spirit returned to his side he was deep in thought, musing over a lot of things, some too private for sharing with anyone, others too scary for him to bear alone.

"Spirit," said Scrooge, his voice wavering and filled with anguish, "tell me that Viggo's cough is not serious, that he is not really ill and that he will get better. Please..."

The spirit just shook his head and sighed. "I am the spirit of Christmas Present, I can't tell. These shadows may remain unaltered by the Future, walking to the end of the path they are treading now, or they may take a different path... It is not for me to know."

Scrooge felt his heart wrench at the thought of where Viggo's path might be taking him. He felt a stab thinking of every single time he had accused him of being lazy, of making him spend too much money with overheating the office, of every time he had taken him without a word of love or emotion, not even caring if the pleasure he was taking was shared or not.

As he was struggling with his sense of guilt, the spirit nudged him, calling his attention to a young couple that had emerged from the house next door to knock on Viggo's.

They both watched as they entreated him to join them for Christmas lunch, refusing to take no for an answer when Viggo tried to shy away, saying that surely they could hardly be expected to feed another mouth, what with the coming baby and the woman being out of work due to her pregnancy. But they refused to go away without Viggo and he finally gave in and followed them next door.

The spirit followed them too and solemnly poured a large amount of whatever magic was stored in his torch on their gathering, before leading away a reluctant Scrooge, who was hoarding away in his heart a vision of Viggo's face melting in pleasure and love with his name on his lips, and finding he treasured that more than all his money and gold.

The spirit took Scrooge to visit many a house that night, and wherever they went the spirit left his blessing, making people forget for one day their burden of misery and poverty, and teaching Scrooge what Christmas was.

It was a long night, if it were only a night; but Scrooge had his doubts of this. Somehow the whole Christmas Holidays appeared to be condensed into the space of time they passed together, and while Scrooge remained unaltered in his outward form, the Ghost had grown older.

Scrooge observed this change, but never spoke of it until they left a children's Twelfth Night party, when, looking at the Spirit as they stood together in an open place, he noticed that its hair had turned grey.

"Are spirits' lives so short?'' he asked.

"My life upon this globe is very brief,'' replied the ghost. "It ends tonight at midnight, to start again next Christmas. Hear the bells, my time is drawing near.''

As the bells were chiming, Scrooge looked about him for the ghost, but saw it not. As the last stroke ceased to vibrate, he remembered the prediction of David Marley, and lifting up his eyes, he beheld a solemn Phantom, draped and hooded, coming, like a mist along the ground, towards him.