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 A Midsummers' Carol - Part Six by
Clint Driftwood
Read
the story from the beginning
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This
Dickens parody was the winner in the prose section of our Summer Parodies
competition, and was originally contributed to the Fantasy Archers
topic on The Archers . |
The
Ghost moved his hand through the air; now they were standing in a moonlit
street. Shards of golden light spilled from windows onto the pavement.
The air was still hot from the sun聮s blaze of the past day. Moths
danced crazily before amber streetlamps to music escaping from a hall
festooned with strings of coloured bulbs.
"This
is Ambridge," Aldridge exclaimed, "I know it well, it is my
home, but it seems a might strange to me."
The Ghost pointed a shining finger and Aldridge looked as directed, a
poster on a window of the hall said - Young Farmers Midsummer聮s Ball,
June 21st. 9pm.
"Let us enter." Said the Ghost, and moved its hand through the
air once more.
They
now stood in a corner of the hall, loud rock and roll music assaulted
Aldridge聮s ears.
"Look!" commanded the Ghost, "You know that young gentleman
there?" again pointing its shining finger.
Aldridge again saw himself, younger by many years, moving purposefully
in and out of the assembled throng with a full glass in each hand. He
watched until his former self stopped at a table and placed the drinks
before a young woman.
"Jennifer Archer!" cried Aldridge, "My Jenny darling, how
sweet she looks, oh, my heart, I had forgotten her countenance."
"You knew more of her than her countenance," chided the Ghost,
"And you took advantage of her predicament."
"I did not take advantage, I befriended her when no other would,
she had a child out of wedlock." claimed Aldridge.
"The child that calls you 聭uncle聮 and whom you now disparage?"
was the Ghost聮s retort.
"The same," Aldridge sighed, "But I act like that towards
him to harden his character, he treats life too lightly and he has no
head for business."
"He calls you 聭uncle聮 because you are as one to him, and
it was his mother聮s last wish that he look out for you." The
Ghost replied.
"Oh, yes my sweet Jenny, I would have married eventually. My business
was young and needed all my attention. She would not wait and I could
not wed her without having first made a success of my firm. But she married
that farmer, I resolved to forget her and put my mind to my work, but
two years latter she died in childbirth. Oh, my dear, dear, Jenny Darling,
if only." Aldridge lamented.
The
Ghost moved its hand in the air and all went black.
It
seemed to Aldridge that he heard the sound of a solitary bell tolling
in the far off in the distance. He opened his eyes. The room was in darkness.
The grandfather clock in the hall downstairs was striking the hour. He
shivered as it struck one and no more. Aldridge wondered by which way
the second spirit would enter his bedroom. As he lay there, his eyes peering
into gloom, he tried to slow his breathing so as better to hear any sound
that may occur in the room.
"Matt
Crawford聮s ghost had foretold the coming of the first spirit as the
clock sounded one, and the second spirit at the same hour on the next
night," mused Aldridge, " And the first one had come as predicted
on the dot. So it must be well passed the hour now and not a phantom in
sight." He relaxed just a little and breathed easier.
Aldridge
then noticed a soft orange glow under his wardrobe door. Thinking it to
be a fire he rushed out of bed and paced to the wardrobe. Placing his
hand on the door handle he was astonished to hear his own name being called
out.
"Enter Brian Aldridge, come join Me." a loud jolly baritone
voice bade him.
Aldridge opened the door further and gasped to see not a row of empty
coat hangers as he expected, but a whole new room brightly lit.
"Come in, come in," repeated the voice, "Don聮t stand
on ceremony man, come join me!" It boomed out, and then it laughed
a laugh so bright and happy that Aldridge forgot his fear for a moment.
The
room was decked with all manner of summer flowers and fruits, and in its
centre sat on a tree stump was a giant of a man with flowing blonde locks.
He was dressed in a white toga with a band of ivy for a belt.
"May I ask who you are Sir?" Aldridge asked timidly.
"Why! I am the Ghost of midsummers present," returned the Ghost
"Have you things to show me spirit? For if you have, I would rather
you showed me sooner then later and have done with it, if you don聮t
mind." Aldridge begged.
"Then you shall have your wish," said the ghost getting to its
feet, "Come here and touch my robe"
Aldridge
did as instructed and upon touching the ghosts robe the room vanished.
They stood in a narrow street with small dingy houses on each side. The
houses badly were in need of repair and some seemed to Aldridge as they
were about to collapse into the street.
"Where are we Spirit?" Aldridge asked. "Why! Ambridge of
course." the Ghost answered.
"I don聮t know this street, where is it" enquired Aldridge.
The Ghost, not answering, pointed to one of the houses and said, "There,
let us go to that house."
"But who lives there, if any person can actually live in such a hovel?"
asked Aldridge breathlessly, running to keep up with the Ghost.
"Not a person," said the Ghost, "A family live here, come
follow me."
Read
Part Seven
More parodies - from Agatha Christie
to Damon Runyon
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