A Christmas Carol For Today
by Maggie Birge
(with apologies to Charles Dickens)
The Past
It was late on a snowy Christmas Eve, but Andrew Scrooge was still working hard in the music room of his luxurious country manor. He had finally dismissed his staff for the evening so they could enjoy the holiday festivities with their families, and his own family had retired for the night, but Andrew was still toiling away over his piano, determined to complete the song he had worked on for so long.
“Christmas can wait,” he muttered. “I must get this finished.”
Andrew had been harboring a dream for a long time—about fifteen years actually. Although he had composed hit musical after hit musical, the unparalled acclaim heaped upon his most successful musical had disappointed him. The millions who had seen the show had misinterpreted his message. They believed that it centered around the title character—a tragic, disfigured man who lived a lonely life in a cellar and longed for a woman’s love. Scrooge had meant for the audience to focus on the heroine, an untrained young soprano the Disfigured Man had fallen in love with.
“Damn them,” he had groused at the time. “They just didn’t get it. It’s her story, not his. He’s just one of the men who influences her life. Why didn’t they understand that she’s the important character in the play?”
Scrooge’s stomach churned as it did every time he reflected on the way things had turned out. “I know what happened,” he muttered to himself. “I never should have hired that actor who played the Disfigured Man to begin with. He was simply too strong a personality. My poor darling wife (the one who preceded his present wife) was overwhelmed by him. And those audiences! Their reaction to his performance was despicable. You would have thought he was something out of the ordinary. Even the critics were calling him a real, live, Angel of Music. Disgusting! Bah, humbug!”
Ever since the Original Actor had left the show after playing the title role for three years, Scrooge had been determined that someday he would write a revised version that would strengthen the heroine’s role and diminish the title character’s impact. He was also determined to use an actor who would be less threatening to the actress who played the heroine. Of course, it would also be necessary to change the music in order to weaken the title character’s part. For fifteen years now Scrooge had scribbled away between other projects. Sometimes he devoted days and even weeks of feverish effort to it; at other times he put it aside for long periods to do other work, but it was never out of his mind.
“I WILL make them understand. They MUST see it my way.”
The ornate clock standing against the opposite wall began to toll midnight. Scrooge’s eyes were getting heavy and he yawned. “Just a little longer,” he told himself, “and then I will go to bed.”
The wind outside suddenly howled with renewed fury and the snow whirled about the house. Scrooge felt that he was surrounded by it and yet he was still sitting at his piano. It was odd. He wasn’t cold or damp but inside and outside were all mixed up together. Then he became aware of a figure standing before him. Scrooge sensed that it wasn’t real but a creature from somewhere beyond the winter storm. He seemed familiar, although Scrooge was certain he had never seen him before. The figure was a handsome man with curly auburn hair. He was dressed in evening clothes and an elegant cape which flowed about him gracefully. He emitted an aura of good humor. His eyes sparkled and his smile was dazzling. When he finally spoke, his voice was like music itself.
“Andrew Scrooge, I am the Ghost of Musicals Past. Your present labors trouble you. I have come to help you revisit your former triumphs. There you may find the inspiration you require to complete your work. “
Scrooge felt no fear. The voice had an almost hypnotizing effect on him and when the ghost motioned for Scrooge to come toward him, he did so without hesitation. The ghost turned and glided forward into the windblown snow. Scrooge followed and was swept up in the very wind itself. He was gliding effortlessly, but where he was going he did not even dare to imagine.
After a moment the snow vanished and the wind died. Scrooge found himself standing on a street corner looking across to a theater ablaze with lights. On the marquee he saw the name of the first musical he had ever written. His own name was emblazoned over the title. Crowds of people were emerging and were exclaiming how wonderful the show was. They remarked on his genius and what a glorious future lay ahead of him in the theatre. How sweet their praise was! After a few moments, the ghost once again motioned for Scrooge to follow him and they set off down the street.
There seemed to be one theatre after another lining both sides of the street and each was housing another of his successful shows. Throngs of people were leaving each theatre and the same exclamations of praise were heard at each one. Finally Scrooge and the ghost arrived at the last theatre and the ghost pointed to a poster beside the entrance. On it Scrooge saw the Disfigured Man who was the title character of his most successful show. As he watched, the doors opened and the audience filed out. Men and women alike were unashamedly wiping away tears. They spoke to one another almost reverently, their voices full of awe.
“I’ve never seen anything like it in all my years of going to the theatre,” said one elderly woman in a quavery voice. “It was breathtaking.”
“Genius, pure genius,” said a stout man. “He’s absolutely topped himself with this one. It will win every possible award.”
On and on the wonderful words continued. Scrooge found himself smiling and wishing he could stand here and listen to them forever. Then someone else emerged from the theatre and stood just outside the door. It was himself! A group of reporters surged forward and barraged him with questions. The crowd fell silent as he started to speak.
“I would say this is one musical we got absolutely right from the start. There can be no question of fiddling with this one.” The words sounded familiar although he had forgotten that he had ever said them. The memory jolted him like an electrical charge.
“Oh God. Did I really say that.” It was painful to hear himself. It was painful to look down the length of the street and see all of his former triumphs shining in front of him. The theatre marquees all flowed into one blaze of light, hurting his eyes. He covered them with his hands and felt weak and on the verge of tears.
“Enough!” he shouted. “Please, Spectre, take me back. “
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There was silence. Even before lowering his hands, Scrooge knew he was home. The clock was still striking. Less than a minute had passed.
As Scrooge sat pondering the phenomenon he had just experienced, he sensed that he was not alone. Slowly he turned and seated in a comfortable wing chair by the fire was a large man wearing flowing robes of deep red velvet. He had long white hair and a full beard to match. His eyes were kind but sad. When he spoke, the resonance of his voice permeated Scrooge’s entire being.
“Andrew Scrooge, I am the ghost of Musicals Present. You are searching, are you not, for a meaningful purpose in your life? You attempt one thing and then another, but a sense of direction eludes you. Come with me and I will show you the recent follies you have embraced that have taken you from your successful path.”
Scrooge hesitated. He didn’t want to be shown his mistakes. That would not be as pleasant an experience as reliving his triumphs. But his body seemed to have a will of his own and he rose and walked toward the man. Darkness overcame him and he felt the same sensation of weightlessness as before. Then the darkness parted and he saw that they were gliding over the rooftops of London. Softly they settled to earth outside his own town home. As if the walls melted away he was then inside listening to himself talking to his wife in their sitting room.
“Why didn’t they understand? It was her story, not his. When I make the movie version of this show I am going to fix that. I’ll make them see it my way.”
Yes, dear. I agree. You know best. After all, you are the composer and you can do whatever you want with it,” she answered. “I’m sure your revisions will make it better than ever.”
Another moment of swirling blackness and he was once again in his manor house, having dinner with his family. His wife was speaking.
“Oh, darling, you’ll never guess who called today. Our friend, the Spaniard. He said he and his wife, the Actress, will be in town next week and want to take us to dinner. He also mentioned he had spoken to you recently and said you were telling him about your plans to make a movie out of your show about the Disfigured Man. He said he has loved that show since he was a teenager and that he is just dying to play a role like that someday. You know, I never thought of it before, but wouldn’t he be wonderful in that part? He’s so sexy and oozes all that Latin charm. Much, much sexier than your Original Star. I never could understand what those millions of people saw in him to begin with. What was all that nonsense about his voice? Anyway, let’s have dinner with them. They are such an enchanting couple.”
“Hmmm, yes, of course, dear. Whatever you want,” he heard himself answer her.
More blackness and then another scene. He was in a nondescript room that appeared to be a rehearsal hall. Sitting here and there around the room were several dejected looking men and women. He was shouting at a slightly built man who stood before him with hunched shoulders.
“Why did I ever think you could write this script? What nonsense! What utter garbage! You missed the point entirely. This thing is just not working. Everyone leave. GO!” He was shaking with rage. What had ever possessed him to believe that a comedian, for God’s sake, could write the script to turn his most successful musical into a film? He’s just one more person who doesn’t seem to understand what I’m trying for. “Doesn’t anybody get it but me?” he asked himself aloud.
Another moment of blackness and Scrooge found himself on the same street as before. Some of the theatres were dark, their marquees blank. Obviously some of the shows had closed. Instead of throngs of theatregoers excitedly discussing his musicals, he saw the familiar faces of actors and actresses he knew well. He stood still and watched them file past him in a slow procession. All of them looked sad. He finally realized that every one of them had either been the star of one of his shows or someone he had promised a job to. In each case, he had quarreled with the person or broken his promise to them. The last person to pass him was the elegant visitor of his first dream. He looked the saddest of all. None of these people he had shared triumphs with, or the promise of triumphs to come, seem to realize he was there. He felt terribly isolated. He wanted to get away.
The ghost was beside him once again. “I don’t like this place,” Scrooge said, his voice nearly breaking. “Please take me back.”
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Back in his cozy music room once more, Scrooge leaned forward on the piano holding his head in his hands. “No more, no more,” he moaned. The clock was still chiming.
A sudden rush of wind outside the window startled him and he jumped to his feet. Outside the window he saw another figure, and this one frightened him badly. It was not really a human figure at all, just a ragged cloak that seemed to cover a body that had no face. A bony hand protruded from one sleeve and motioned for Scrooge to approach him. Pure terror kept Scrooge rooted to the floor but something beyond his own will was propelling him toward the creature. As if by magic he found himself outside again, standing very near the horrible apparition. Now he could see there was a skeletal face in the cloak’s hood. The eyes were hollow but Scrooge felt as if the creature could see straight through to his soul.
“Andrew Scrooge, I am the Ghost of Musicals Future. Through me you will see the future events you have wrought by your own actions.”
Scrooge was filled with dread. The unknown future is far worse that the known past or even the present. The past is gone and cannot be changed. In the present there is hope that events can be controlled and brought to a happy conclusion. But the future…who knows how what we do today will come back to haunt us then?
He didn't know how it happened but he was on that now familiar street for a third time. How different it was from the first time. Even his second visit had been better than this. Now all the theatres were dark and their doors were padlocked. His name no longer appeared on any of the marquees. Faded posters moldered inside the glass cases outside the entrances. There were no people now. The street was absolutely silent as he walked along remembering each triumphant opening night. So many shows; so many wonderfully talented performers. What happy times those had been. What had happened? When had he lost his touch?
Scrooge felt the tears dripping off his chin and he stopped where he was and let his grief pour out. No one was around to hear anyway. Then the sound of laughter far down the street caught his attention. He looked up and saw lights in the distance. The promise of friendly crowds caused him to run down the street. At last he saw where the sound was coming from. It was a brilliantly lighted theatre, but not for stage productions. This was a cinema. The marquee announced that it was showing a movie version of his musical about the Disfigured Man. The star was his friend, the Spaniard.
One of the showings obviously had just finished and the audience was pouring out. But wait, he thought. Something’s wrong. The people are laughing. He could hear them ridiculing him. They were saying things like, “What was he thinking?” “All of his recent shows have failed and it’s no wonder.” “What a joke!”
Scrooge couldn’t believe what was happening. Why are they laughing? It’s not funny. It’s a tragedy. It’s terribly sad. The laughter continued its hollow ringing in his ears as the ghost appeared before him once again.
“Ghost,” Scrooge begged, “tell me what’s wrong. Why is everyone laughing?”
The ghost stared at him, into him, for a long moment. Then slowly the skeletal hands parted the cloak and Scrooge beheld a horrific sight. Inside the cloak were endless throngs of people weeping and clutching at him as if to implore Scrooge to help them.
“They weep for your betrayal, Andrew. They were loyal to you and gave you untold riches. They asked only that you give them the one thing they most fervently longed to have. They embraced your story of the Disfigured Man and wanted to cherish it forever just the way you created it in the beginning. You promised them that, and then you turned your back on them. You betrayed them, abandoned them. Of all your follies, Andrew Scrooge, this was the most dastardly. It was within your power to grant their wish but pride and arrogance made you turn away from them. You were forewarned that disaster would follow if you did this, but you would not listen and now you must suffer the ridicule you brought upon yourself.”
Scrooge fell to his knees in the snow. He was shivering with cold and fear. The wailing of the throng in the ghost’s cloak mingled in his head with the laughter of the crowd coming from the theatre. He pressed his hands tightly against his ears but the sound would not stop.
“Please, please, ghost, make it stop. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’ll do anything I can to change things. Tell me this doesn’t have to happen. Oh please, please, please give me another chance.
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Scrooge opened his eyes and found himself back in his music room once again. The ghost was gone. There were no laughing crowds, no pleading faces. He ran to the window and flung it open. The wind was calm and the snow had stopped. It lay on the ground in a soft, flawless sheet of white. There was a glimmer of light on the horizon. Dawn was breaking on Christmas Day. Christmas Day! It’s morning, he thought. I survived the night. The ghosts are gone and I’m home again.
Scrooge looked at the sky and studied the fading stars. A new day was being born. A new day meant new hopes, new opportunities. The future is out there and I can still make it anything I want it to be, Scrooge told himself. And suddenly he knew what he wanted that future to be. He wanted to hear happy voices again. He wanted to hear the praise of the crowds again. He longed to experience success again. And he knew exactly how to do it. Yes, he thought, I know what they want and I have the power to give it to them. I will listen to the people who once loved me and fulfill their fondest dreams. And I will begin this very day. This is the best day of the year for hope to be born again.
With tears of joy streaming down his face, Scrooge shouted, “Oh happy, happy Christmas, one and all!”
