Outstanding Fight Set-ups

[IKA]

This will be the first time I am putting on into the Sub-Forum.

Congrats to @Z451 for Winning the Special Writer's Challenge.

Kojojash VS. The Judderman  by @Z451
 

Falling, jettisoning through space and time, the once proud hunter is ready, he is ready to die. He has failed them, he has failed his ayïl (village), and the Kïtay people will suffer for it, but he sees no other way to act, but to surrender. The mountain goat has best him, bested the people's provider, the people's hope, Sur- Ecki has won, in spite of her inferiority, and now his people will die. It is over, the war is over, and the victor has been decided.

But then, just as the ground should have broken him, just as the jagged rocks should have taken his light, just as the light should have been extinguished from his eyes, he awoke once more. Eyes moving about, seeing the beauty of life all around him, nose taking in the vast aromas of the cliff side, ears hearing the sounds of chirping and the thumps of animals, he was alive, alive again. It was a miracle, that he was alive, and despite the chill running through his vein, he was relieved.

Lurching forward, he threw himself up from his back, his body aching in agony as he did, in order to see where he was. Surrounded by jagged rocks and sparse plant life, he remembered the cliff side that he'd been baited into by the mountain goat, but not the pit that was around him. The shredded rocks, the sharp edges of the mica formations, it was new and that was dangerous. Anything could happen here, anything could be waiting for him around every corner, and that alone was a threat.

Reaching down to grab his pack, his hands grasped the satchel of his bag, only after much difficulty, as the wounds he'd suffered from the fall, left him pouring his blood out like wine from a bottle. Red streams soaked his skin, as a stream of blood, starting from his shoulder, flowed all the way down to the very webbing of his left hand. Pain had found him, and as he grabbed the satchel in his hands, he could feel the cry of his insides pleading with him for absolution from the very burden of life. Yet, he pressed on, desperate to see Zulayka again once more, to be with her as he awaited his son's birth.

Arching over to his Ak Barang, the hunter barely touched the stock of the weapon, before cold fingers crossed over his own, freezing him in place. Frigid in temperature, and in appearance, the hunter found himself all at once stricken by the sudden appearance of winter, even as the seasons all around him indicated otherwise. Winter itself, the endless cold, the freezing chill, the infernal biting of ice, existed in these fingers, existed in the blood that encompassed them and the man who made them up, this being was winter. Shivering at the thought, and adamant about wanting nothing less than to leave, the hunter dropped the gun, and stepped back, believing that even cowardice would be better than facing someone such as this.

Stepping away, he at last looked at the face of the man who'd touched him, as his cold eyes lit up briefly with a smile, he was feeding off of his fear. Taking up the hunter's weapon, he raised it up for a moment, before spinning it around and directing it back first toward the hunter. Barrel pointed at his chest, the being in front of him showed no hesitation in offering the weapon in that position, as he continued to extend it toward the hunter's ever shaking hands. Smiling widely, he stepped forward as the hunter stepped back, the gun still waving about in the wind, calling to its master all the while. He feared not death, nor dying, as this act was simply a game to him, and one that he alone knew the rules too, and even as the hunter resisted, he too pursued, offering the man his weapon.

Neither would budge, neither would move, they just stared at each other. It was a moment of pause, each one stayed in his place, unwilling to move the process along, lest the other act before he was ready to. The two were locked, hand in hand in this dance, as they awaited a response from each other, that would never come.

Breaking the silence at last, the cryogenic man, finally spoke, as he shoved the gun in the hunter's hands, “Come now, take your weapon. You can't hunt without it, can you, Kojojash?” Baffled by his words, and more by his actions, Kojojash backed up further towards the cliff side, his face struggling to maintain composure at the being's revelations. “What's wrong, don't you want to see Zulayka again?”, he said in response to Kojojash's reactions. “You… What are you?”, Kojojash stuttered as he tried to form the words from his mouth. Smiling again, the being stepped back before lounging his back on the jagged edges of the other cliff wall, “I am simply a merchant, my dear man,” he announced gleefully.

“A merchant?”, Kojojash responded out of frustration. “Hmm…”, the being shook his head up in down in reply, the smile never leaving his face. Raising his gun, he pushed it forward into the man's chin, forcing the metal as far as it could go without penetrating the skin of the being's throat. “Who are you?”, he asked the being as he stared directly into his deep, cold, sunken eyes. The smile never leaving his face, the being merely pushed the gun aside, as he formed a grayish-white bottle out of thin air, and offered it to the man. “A drink?”, he asked as he offered the bottle to the man.
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Circling the man, as his eyes rested on Kojojash's sunken expression, the jackanape stared at him silently, watching his body twitch and quiver with each passing moment, this was a game to him. Moving behind him and then in front, and then behind, and then in front once more, the entity began to smile again as he danced around the exasperated hunter. “You should be dead, right?”, the entity asked disingenuously as he made his next pass about Kojojash's rear. “Your body should be broken, it should be crushed, and yet somehow you are still standing here, why?”, he pressed as he was almost at the hunter's side.

Turning his face towards the hunter's ear, he grinned subtly, as he watched for the man's next expression, the being was almost ready to pounce. A grimace formed on his face, as Kojojash considered the notion that he was being fed by “the thing” in front of him, “he was alive, but how?” Amused by the reaction, he leaned in, close enough to make his lips touch the hunter's ear, and whispered, “You should have taken the drink”, as the man's body suddenly began to collapse.

Falling over, Kojojash watched as the wounds he had accumulated from his previous descent, started to stain the ground on which he stood, in a reflective puddle of crimson red. Palpitating, beating beyond measure, his heart shook the foundations of his body, as it pushed more and more blood out, while his body remained statically passive, incapable of resistance. It was over, all but the eventual approach of death, as the brain slowed with each pressing second, the neurons shutting down, the synapses ceasing to allow for the flow of any more data, he was going to die.

Powerless, and incapable of sidestepping the allure of death, Kojojash lay there curled over on his side, as his breath became strained and his body found itself weightless in only a few moments, death was here, until it wasn't. Waltzing over to the man's face, the being poured his wares into the man's mouth, christening his insides with what most consider to be “liquid death”, as the grim smile he bore, never once left his face. Nothing was new to him about this, as he watched the man react to the cold flowing inside his body, like a fish ripped out of the water, all of it accorded with his plans.

Feeling the chill running through his veins, Kojojash struggled to resist its pulls on him, as the sudden jolt on his body forced him to get up, like a cold hand reaching into his mind and body all at once. It wasn't death, nor life, it was something else, something that forced him back on his feet, and kept him going.

“You and I have much to discuss, my friend.”, the being replied as he once again met his gaze.
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Trailing behind him, as the being pranced along ahead, Kojojash couldn't help but think of his ayïl, and how it suffered in his absence. Pictures and images flashing before his eyes, painted the scene vividly, the children were starving, the elders were shivering without cessation in the cold, and the horses, noble though they were, had been eaten in only one day. It was chaos, a calamity that he could not possibly acknowledge without nearly fainting, the people needed him, and they needed them now, lest they all die, and the she-goat, Sur-Ecki, provide them all with further humiliation.

Shaking his head at the thought, Kojojash remembered how the she-goat had stolen his life, his future, and even his purpose from him, but to kill his ayïl, was something that he could not bear to think about. Innocents were there, people who'd done nothing to warrant such a brutal end at the hands of nature's own inequities. He killed the she-goat's children, he murdered her kids, he killed Alabash, he slaughtered them all, their blood was on his hands, his, not the ayïl's, the Kïtay had nothing to do with it. “Why should they suffer, for what he did?”, he thought to himself, as he kept walking. “My debt, it was my debt, not theirs,” he told himself in response to his musings.

As he continued to ponder the fate of his home, the entity in front of him marched on into nothing, occasionally staring back at the hunter to provide a snarky smile. Kojojash was simply a toy, a doll for his amusements, and even as they crossed the threshold of many rigid cliff alcoves, he never once considered that the hunter was anything more. To him, he could easily dispose of the man, and be on his way, if it came to it, but then who would he find to provide entertainment after that? His sharp demeanor, his dedication to his ayïl, provided all the necessary ingredients for fun, as each one could be manipulated in such a way that the stubborn hunter could do nothing about, until it was too late. Yes, he was the perfect toy, always ready, always available for the entity's whims, he was the perfect remedy for the being's boredom.  Gullible as well, he was willing to believe anything the being told him, good or bad, so long as his village was spared.

“You don't care about your own life, do you?”, the entity asked as he began to slither back and forth between the walls, moving forward all the while. “You follow me aimlessly, mimicking my every move, replaying my every footstep, without a care in the world, and you do it, without ever questioning me, without ever stopping me, without ever truly reacting in any way, why?”, he asked out of curiosity. “Don't you care where we're going, don't you care about getting back to your wife, to your family? Are you not worried about them, about their well-being?”, he pressed on in asking the hunter. “Why do you not resist me?”

Stopping for a moment to stare at the being, Kojojash straightened out his face, and replied simply, “You brought me back from death, and for that I owe you a debt.” Quzzically staring at the man's face, the being let out a brief chuckle, before dancing away on the path again, leaving Kojojash to follow him in a suppressed annoyance. The game was growing old, the players were tiring of each other, and as the hunter continued to follow the entity in front of him, he found himself only growing more and more irritable with each step. The being was keeping him away from his ayïl, and he knew that it was, but he was still bound to follow it, because it had helped him first.

Leading him all around, through steep terrain and past multiple hoodoos, the entity intended to break him with the walk alone, but yet the hunter maintained his pursuit, willingly subjecting himself to the being's machinations out of obligation. Boring him, the being decided to move things along at last, walking forward into an opening in the rocks, from which his ice began to spread en masse throughout the canyons. Kojojash, following him, out of duty and nothing more, did not hesitate to walk in as well, even though the inhumane temperature he felt, warned him to do otherwise.

Opening his eyes to the sight of white and blues, of clear and translucent ice, the hunter looked around in astonishment as he saw a world beyond his own comprehension. No heat, no rigidity existed here, it was a frozen wonderland, a place of absolute perfect craft, as if an artist had sculpted it by hand. Turning from side to side, allowing his eyes to take it all in, he saw the lack of chisel marks, the absence of scrapes and manipulation, but could not understand how it was possible. A perfect icy world, existing alongside his own, it could not be real.

Stumbling over his own feet, he fell onto a frozen chair, while his eyes remained fixated on the world around him. Nothing could compare to the sights he was seeing, to the sights he had witnessed in front of him. It was too much to take in, and as he sat in the chair, his mind raced with worry about the natural order, for what this would do to the lands of Manas, for the Kyrgyz as a whole. None of it should be, he should not even be, even as the being had been “gracious” in bringing him back in such a way, it was all unnatural.

Perplexed by his reaction, the being walked over to him, and simply placed his hand on the man's shoulder, as he stood there by his side. “Beautiful, isn't it?”, he whispered quietly into Kojojash's ear. “It's all mine, my friend. All of it coming from up here,” he told him as he tapped his index finger to his forehead. Looking out at it, at the spread of cave walls, at the melding of ice and rock, of natural and artificial, he smiled earnestly as he remarked, “One day all the world we'll be like this. Union between the frost and the dry will be achieved.”

“But today is a different day…”, he spat out to the man as he snapped back into his senses. “Today, is the day when you and I campaign for the people's hearts.” Rapidly blinking out of confusion, the hunter stared at the being, strung up on the notion of “people's hearts”, incapable of thinking of anything else but that as he looked at the being's pale countenance even among the cave walls. Looking to him, the entity spoke at last, “I am the Judderman. I go from place to place, peddling my icy brew to all around, until all are hooked. It is my calling, my purpose in life.” “To see the world frozen in the feeling of judders, in the sensation of cold chills, and thrilling shivers, it is what I live for.”

“But, there is a problem,” he stopped saying as he brought his point to its climax. “I need help, assistance in making my brew. For you see, I'm one being, but only one.”, looking intently at the hunter's eyes, he made his intentions all the more clear as he let his thoughts burn into the man's brain. “I need the Kyrgyz, I need Manas' people.,” he stated bluntly to Kojojash. “But, they won't listen to me.”

“Hence,” he began talking again, “You must talk to them, spread my wares among the people, propagate my brew among the populace here. Starting with the Kïtay, your people.” “If you do that, if you aid me in my endeavors…”, he hesitated for a moment as his tongue felt the bitterness of his next words, “I'll relieve you of your debt to me.”

Coming to, if only for a moment, Kojojash briefly smiled at the notion that the Judderman had put in his head, the idea of returning home a free man. He would go back to Zulayka, back to his ayïl, to his father, and his son, finally he would have defeated the she-goat, it would be as it was once more. Peace, happiness, joy, and bliss would enter his life, he could live with his family, with his ayïl, as their great provider, and all it took was agreeing to the entity's trivial request. But, then he saw something, something he'd wished he hadn't seen.

Frozen in ice and struggling to live, he saw a family of mice locked in a perpetual prison under the sheets of frozen water. Terror painted on each of their faces, fear perpetuating every inch of their bodies, they resembled nothing he'd ever seen before, and nothing he'd ever wished to see in his lifetime. Death awaited them, but the ice had kept them alive, and they remained prisoners of circumstance here, all because they had been where the Judderman had been.

Thinking of his people again, and growing concerned for their future, the hunter returned his gaze to the Judderman, as he asked the questioned that he formulated since the being's proposal. “What about the Kïtay, what will happen to them?” A question which prompted the entity to reply, “What do you care about them? Haven't you done enough for them?” “My life is not my own. If not for my ayïl, I would not be who I am,” Kojojash answered him. “They must always come first.”, he declared in response. Frustrated by that answer, the Judderman stared at him in anger, as his mind pondered how he could creatively destroy the insect standing before him. “Even when your family is at stake?”

Pausing in thought to consider what the being had told him, Kojojash looked at him intently, his hand reaching for his weapon. The she-goat had threatened his family before, but she never intended on touching them, something inside of her had told the hunter that. The being in front of him, however, was something else, something that even he could not contend with, and in spite of his mannerism, someone that the hunter had not wished to cross the wrong way. Despite his fear, however, something inside of him would not allow him to think of them before the ayïl, and the hunter simply rested his hand once more and sighed. “The ayïl, comes even before them.”, he responded as his mind knew of the risks involved with doing so.

“A pity…”, the Judderman replied as the man resign himself to his fate. A look of sorrow stretching across Kojojash's face, the entity at last realized what the hunter was willing to do, willing to sacrifice, if it meant his people would survive. Then, in a moment of inspiration, he came back again, “What good will you do your people, if you're dead, however?”, as the entity's mind was reminded of what cards he still had. “If you cease to be living, oh great hunter, how can you be of any use to them?”, he pressed as he smiled at him deviously.

“No”, the hunter replied as his mind raced with thoughts of his ayïl's destruction, “You, can't do that, I must help them. I must stop Sur-Ecki from destroying them all.” Offering his hand in response, the Judderman kept smiling at him, as he watched the man fold to his will, the game had reached the good part, down to the final seconds, and he had won, or so he thought. “Do we have a deal?”, he asked as Kojojash continued to stare at his hand.

Everything was at stake, everyone was at stake, but the being was also able to bring him back, allowing him to stop Sur-Ecki's curse, this was the most important fork in his life.

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Author's Note:

Alright, so if you vote for Kojojash you are voting that he decides to reject the Judderman's offer and remain dead, sacrificing himself as a martyr. If, you vote for the Judderman however, you are voting that Kojojash decides to accept the Judderman's offer, he lives and is able to return to his ayïl, but his people will serve the Judderman, and the Judderman will spread his wares all throughout the untouched Kyrgyz lands unopposed.

[DSkillz]

Congratulations once again, JohnnyChany! This is now your seventh entry in this thread and, I believe, your third Writer's Challenge win.  

 

Linka looked down on a photo with her and her fellow Planeteers with sadness in her eyes.

“Oh my sweet Wheeler,” she whispered.

“Is that a picture of you all?”

The sound of the question shook the Russian blonde from her momentary trance. She looked over to the red bandana wearing brunette sitting across from her. Jessie Rasberry was smiling back at her.

“Yes it is.” Linka handed over the picture.

Jessie gazed at it. “How cute, you all have matching shirts. Do you still wear yours?”

“No. Not for some time,” Linka replied.

“Tell me how this Captain Planet summon works again,” Jessie implored.

“It’s not really a summon,” Linka explained. “We would all just shout out our ring’s element and ‘by our powers combined’ he would appear.”

“How interesting,” Jessie marveled. She placed down the picture and then motioned over to a chest of green glowing orbs. “Your rings aren’t too dissimilar to materia. You can slot these babies into your weapon or armor and then you can instantly access the materia’s properties whether it be fire, ice, lightning, whatever.”

Linka was puzzled. “You can access them all at the same time?”

“As many as your equipment can hold,” Jessie responded. “Every type of weapon and armor has a certain amount of slots that you can fill with materia. The boss man, Barret, has a lot of slots for materia on his gun and in his armor. But all of that stuff is too bulky for me. My gun and my armor only have one slot each to link materia.” Jessie rummaged through the orbs of materia. “I usually go with Fire or Poison for my gun, and Barrier for my bangle. They are the most effective against Shinra guards.”

“Fire from a green orb, Wheeler would have never believed it…..”

Linka grew silent. Jessie moved closer to Linka and picked up the picture.

“I have been hesitant to ask, and you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but why did you leave the Planeteers? You all certainly seem very happy in this photo,” Jessie observed.

“We had a  strong difference of opinion,” Linka answered. “Everything changed after Wheeler died. I thought it was a clear wakeup sign that we needed to be more proactive in taking down those that continue to harm the planet. The others did not agree.”

“Sorry to hear that. I’ve been there. It is strange how some of us can see the truth so clearly and others can’t,” stated Jessie.

Jessie then tried to inject some positivity into the conversation. “Their loss is going to be our gain. It will really be nice to have another girl on the team other than just me and Tifa. And Barret will be relieved to find out that I have already trained a replacement should something happen to me.”

Linka chuckled with some unease.

“I would love to introduce you now, but Barrett is always on edge before a big mission and tonight is the biggest one yet. Tifa is bringing in some outside help, an old friend of hers who is apparently some bigtime mercenary now. I’m curious to see how he’ll do. We need all the help we can get right now, but I think it's wise not to dump all of these new faces on Barret at once.” Jessie clicked her tongue and winked at Linka. “Not to worry though, you care for and want to protect the planet. Barret will love you, I’ll make sure of it.”

Jessie’s eyes grew wide as she looked over at a nearby clock. “Oh no, I’m going to be late for the pre-mission  meeting at Seventh Heaven. I have to go.”

“What do you want me to do while you're gone?” asked Linka.

“Keep working on those new fake IDs just like I showed you. If you can finish them up while I’m gone that would be a major help.”

Linka nodded. “You got it.”

Jessie walked over to the door and opened it to leave. “See you here later or from behind bars in a Shinra prison.” Jessie closed the door behind her before reopening it to smile and stick her tongue out at Linka. “Psych!”

After Jessie left, Linka sighed to herself. She admired Jessie’s friendly and upbeat attitude despite the situation she was in. Before he died, Wheeler had talked about the group AVALANCHE and his desire to possibly join and take a much more active role in saving the planet. Linka didn’t think much of it at the time, until that fateful day.

About six months ago, the Planeteers were in hot pursuit of the villain, Duke Nukem, when Wheeler was knocked in a vat of nuclear waste and died. His death hit all of the other Planeteers very hard, but particularly Linka. They had grown so close after all these years. Kwame was also badly shaken as he blamed himself as the leader for failing to keep Wheeler safe. After the initial shock of his death had faded away, one thought kept returning to Linka. They should have done more. If they had been more aggressive in taking down Nukem earlier, Wheeler would still be alive. Linka convinced herself that Wheeler had been right, they needed to take the fight to those that were hurting the planet, AVALANCHE was the way to go.

Gi dismissed AVALANCHE as overzealous eco-terrorists and counter productive to what the Planeteers were trying to accomplish. Ma-Ti warned Linka that her heart was becoming consumed by vengeance and anger over Wheeler’s death and feared it was clouding her judgment. They argued intensely and Linka made the decision to leave the Planeteers behind. Linka knew she should have turned in her Wind ring, that it was the right thing to do, but she didn’t. Linka was honestly surprised Gaia has still not appeared to claim it after all this time.

Linka traveled to Midgar to seek out AVALANCHE. That is when she met Jessie, and they bonded over their love of technology and hacking. Jessie set Linka up with an apartment in the Sector 7 slums. She explained to Linka the history and the ambitions of AVALANCHE. She also talked about their main target, the Shinra Electric Power Company, and how the corporation was killing the planet by sucking out all the mako energy it could.

As she finished the new ID for AVALANCHE member, Biggs, Linka was startled by a loud news report that suddenly flashed across the tv. 

“Breaking News! There was an explosion tonight at Mako Reactor 1! Details are still slowly trickling in but the belief is that it was not an accident and is the handiwork of the terrorist group, AVALANCHE! We take you live now to the scene!”

Linka gasped. “Bozhe moy!”

She watched with horror as the cameras displayed the destruction and fires engulfing Sector 1 as rescue crews tried desperately to reach terrified citizens.

“This is too awful. This is not right,” Linka cried.

Gi was right, these people were too extreme. Linka stopped what she was doing and sat in silence until Jessie returned to her apartment later that night.

“I saw the news. What happened?” Linka asked.

“Everything didn’t go exactly to plan,” Jessie admitted. “But we will do better next time.”

Linka shook her head. “No, you can’t! You can never do that again!” 

“I’m planning on using a weaker blasting agent for the next reactor. It should go much smoother,” insisted Jessie.

“You are willing to risk that much collateral damage again?”

“We will avoid it as much as we can, but we can’t stop now. Bombing the reactors is the only way we will ever make a difference!”

Linka shook her head again. “I… I can’t be a part of this.”

Jessie lowered her head. “I’m sorry to hear that, but I understand.” She slowly walked over to the unfinished IDs. “I’ll take these with me, I need to get them finished by tomorrow.”

Jessie picked them up and walked to the door to leave. Linka quickly used her wind ring to close the door in front of Jessie.

“What are you doing?” Jessie wondered. 

“I’m sorry Jessie, I can’t let you continue with this. Not when I know it will lead to more innocent people suffering,” Linka declared.

“You don’t want to do this.”

“No, I don’t,” Linka agreed. “But we must act when we know it’s right. That is what you told me, yes?”

“I don’t want to hurt you, Linka, but I can’t stop now. My friends are counting on me,” said Jessie.

“We both must fight for our beliefs,” stated Linka.

“Yes we do.”

[DSkillz]

Wanted to get this in at least before Christmas ended in the U.S.  

Congratulations, @Boratz, for managing to get yet another match into this thread, and with a fitting theme and just in time for Christmas, too. It's well worth it. 

BTW, some of our other members can place matches in this thread as well, but only if you think it's an exceptionally well-done story. 

Jacob Marley vs. Mr. Potter by Boratz

Stave VI SCROOGE'S DEATH 

 

SCROOGE was dead to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. The difference in his death and that of his former partner, Jacob Marley, was that Ebenezer Scrooge was surrounded by many that he had inspired in his later life. Scrooge found redemption on Christmas Eve night and set out to spread joy rather than continue his life of greed. Scrooge was surrounded by family and friends in his death. The chief mourner was his nephew, Fred but a great many others had come to mourn. Oh yes, a great many others came to be by his side to celebrate the life of Ebenezer Scrooge.  

 

Ebenezer Scrooge was as dead as a door nail. There was no doubt about that. He was as dead as Jacob Marley. The mention of his funeral brought a great many emotions through all that had known him. Scrooge had found peace and redemption in his later life. While Marley was bound by chains to wander the world in his death, Scrooge was at peace. As mentioned, he was surrounded by family and friends in his death. He was not lonely in the end. His nephew, Fred signed the burial of the register along with the clergyman, the clerk, and the undertaker.  

 

The funeral of Ebenezer Scrooge saw Bob Cratchit along with his family. Even Tiny Tim came to pay his final respects. Scrooge had left a great deal of his estate to his nephew, but he had spread out the remainder of his wealth among a great many. From Bob Cratchit and his family to the those less fortunate, the old Scrooge had left a great bit for everyone after he passed away. While a great many gathered to mourn Scrooge's passing, they were overcome with joy that he had found peace later in his life. A joy that many that had known him prior to his redemption found rather inspirational. Even the ghost of Jacob Marley came to see Ebenezer Scrooge be laid to rest. 

 

 

The mention of Scrooge’s funeral brings me back to point that I started from. There is no doubt that Ebenezer Scrooge was dead. While a great deal of his life was like that of another man that had died, Scrooge and Marley had different paths in the end. This must be distinctively understood that Scrooge was in fact dead or nothing wonderful would come from the story that is to come. The story that was the life and death of Ebenezer Scrooge had followed the ghost of Jacob Marley. 

 

Fred was left in charge of Scrooge's manor, the young man only wished to continue to bring honor to his uncle's legacy. The former home of Ebenezer Scrooge became a warm haven for widows and the fatherless. Even in his death, Scrooge continued to impact the lives of many. His contributions and impact in his later life brought hope to the city around him. There were more than family and friends that came to mourn him in his passing, the city came to pay its respect the man that found redemption on Christmas.  

 

With Scrooge Manor becoming a haven for the widows and the fatherless, Fred also set out to make it lively and festive around the holidays. Surrounding trees were decorated with ornaments that caught the eye of all who sauntered by. Carolers lined up to sing the glorious songs of the Christmas season while the former home of Ebenezer Scrooge became a beacon of hope and holiday joy. 

 

Bob Cratchit continued the business that Scrooge left behind. Rather than become overwhelmed with greed, Cratchit sought to use the business for the good of mankind. After Scrooge's redemption, Bob was delighted to see his young son grow into a young healthy man. The generous Ebenezer Scrooge even became a mentor of sorts to the young Tiny Tim. Despite Scrooge's final wishes for those that he left behind to donate their money to those in need rather than spend it on his funeral, Tiny Tim saw it fit to leave a single rose on his mentor's coffin. 

 

Hymns were sung as Ebenezer Scrooge was laid to rest. There were many tears that were shed for the old Scrooge. The stone that was placed over his grave became a reminder of his life's journey. His gravestone was a reminder to all that came to visit that redemption is possible for ages. After the mourning crowds had departed, the young Tiny Tim stayed behind to look over the gravestone of Ebenezer Scrooge. The young man shivered as he wrestled to find the right words to say. His voice trembled and shook as he muttered a fitting line that he had shouted all those years ago on Christmas Day. "God bless us everyone..." 

 

Stave VII THE HAUNTING OF JACOB MARLEY 

 

MARLEY'S ghost watched as the friends and family of Ebenezer Scrooge paid their respects to his old business partner. Still bound in the chains and locks that he had forged in his greedy life; the ghost of Jacob Marley felt a single lock come undone after Scrooge's passing. In Scrooge's redemption, Marley found that there was a chance for him to find peace even after death. Underneath his locks and chains, the ghost of Jacob Marley listened to the muttering words of Tiny Tim.   

 

With those muttering words of Tiny Tim, who was not so tiny anymore, Marley continued his journey around the world. Traveling far, wide, high, and low; the ghost of Jacob Marley sought to right the wrongs that were done to those in need. From as far as the east is from the west, and the north is from the south, Jacob traveled all over the corners of the Earth. In these endless travels, Jacob saw the worst that mankind had to offer but also saw glimmers of hope in different people. As he had offered a chance to his friend all those years ago, Marley offered the same for others in his travels. Little by little, more of those cursed locks had come undone.  

 

Time became a stranger to the old ghost of Jacob Marley. Days had become weeks, and weeks turned to years. After a while, Marley had all but forgotten the days and weeks. Despite the passing days, Marley always remembered the coming of Christmas. In his endless travels across the globe, he would often find himself at the foot of Scrooge's grave. The constant reminder of that gravestone gave hope to the tortured spirit.  

 

In his journey for peace and redemption, the wandering ghost of Jacob Marley had encountered many corrupt men and women. Cries of terror from kings and queens followed Marley all throughout the world. The evils of greed from all corners of the world became haunted by the wandering ghost of Jacob Marley. Little by little, the chains that Marley had created in life continued to loosen their powerful grip. The Ghosts of Christmas followed the wandering Jacob Marley in his long journey. The tools of the corrupt varied in each place that Marley traveled to, but the greed was all the same.  

 

At the turn of the century, the tools of the greedy changed drastically. The world saw wars that spread across the globe and the horrors only grew worse with the passage of time. Jacob Marley was nearly free from the locks and chains that bound to this purgatory. The old ghost of Jacob Marley visited the grave of Ebenezer Scrooge for what he had hoped would be the final time. He hoped that he could break the final lock to the cursed chains and finally find his own redemption. While the years since his own death has become a blur, Marley still remembered the words of Tiny Tim, "God bless us everyone..." even though, Bob Cratchit and Tiny Tim had long passed away, Jacob Marley remembered them in the Christmas Carol of Ebenezer Scrooge. 

 

During his many travels, the wandering spirit had heard of a town that was under the control of an evil man. Even though this despicable man controlled it with an iron grip, the residents stood together with the hope of a better tomorrow. There was a rich history amongst the people in the town. The town was full of many people with wonderful lives. Jacob Marley traveled across the seven seas to and to the upper parts of the United States. Up ahead he could see the sign for the town that read, "Welcome to Bedford Falls." 

 

While roaming the snowy streets on Christmas Eve, Marley heard the sweet melody of Auld Lang Syne from within one of the homes. A large crowd gathered to help a man in need. From within the singing crowd, the wandering ghost could hear the soothing jingle of a ringing bell followed by a young girl exclaiming to her father, "Look daddy, teacher says, every time a bell rings an angel gets his wings!" The ghost of Jacob Marley soon realized that an angel helped the man in this home realize that he had a wonderful life as he was surrounded by wonderful friends. He also realized that his journey did not end here at the home of George Bailey. No, this Christmas Eve night was far from over for the town of Bedford Falls. Jacob Marley set his sights on the miserable Mr. Potter. 

 

Stave VIII IT'S A MISERABLE LIFE 

 

POTTER was furious over the news that he had received on that late Christmas Eve night. The town of Bedford Falls came together to help George Bailey. For Mr. Potter, George Bailey had been a thorn in his side for far too long. His hope was that warped, frustrated young man would find himself in jail before the year's end. These hopes and plans ultimately failed with the residents of this town banning together for that idealistic young man. The old man Potter was angry indeed. His plans crumbled before his very eyes on that dark and snowy night.  

 

He spat and grumbled under his breath once he heard the sweet tune of Silent Night playing on his radio. The richest and meanest man in the country threw a paper weight from his wheelchair to destroy the radio. He had no desire to hear the joyful Christmas songs that played on the radio. In fact, Mr. Potter would see to it that this would not be a Merry Christmas for the town of Bedford Falls. His mind started to run once again to form a new plan on shutting down Bailey Brothers Building and Loan once and for all. The old man Potter wheeled himself over to his desk. His desire to obtain more wealth was no longer the only thing that was driving him. His heart now desired complete control over this town, and to see the fall of George Bailey. 

 

The old man planned out a scheme that would for sure give him what he wanted. After feeling the cold chill of the winter air pushing against his neck, Mr. Potter screamed for his assistant to warm up his office. Despite hollering for his assistant, Mr. Potter's eyes did not move away from the papers that were piled on his desk. The cold winter air slowly crept over to the old man's arms and legs. Mr. Potter hollered again for his assistant to turn on the heater in his office. Once again, his eyes did not leave the papers that he had on his desk. Soon after, the cold chill had completely taken over all parts of Mr. Potter's body. He looked up and screamed at the top of his lunges for his assistant. Spit and drool ran down his lips as he looked around his office.  There was no sign of his assistant anywhere in sight. Mr. Potter was all alone in that cold office, or so he thought.  

 

The warped, frustrated old man found himself looking around in all directions. There were no sounds or carols that could be heard from the outside. In fact, there were no lights shining outside at all. The lights in his office had started to grow dim and the only sound that Mr. Potter could hear came from a faint knocking at the door. Mr. Potter's voice became a faint whimper as he called out to his assistant once more. The only sound that could be heard was from that knocking which became louder and louder. The old man's eyes widened as the door tore open and he saw the ghostly image of terror itself wander into his office. A grisly image of a tired soul that was bound in chains and locks came before him. This tormented spirit dragged along money boxes and padlocks that were forged in a life that had been wasted on greed. The old banker leaned back in his wheelchair with his eyes widened with fright.  

 

"What are you?!" Mr. Potter cried out.  

 

"In life, I was a lot like you. In life, my spirit never rose beyond the limits of money-changing holes! In death, I was doomed to wander without rest or peace, incessant torture, and remorse. I have seen your greed and evil for far too long. I am here to right the wrongs of your evil deeds! I am here to stop your pursuit of senseless power!" Jacob Marley screamed. 

 

"I... I… I will never stop!” Mr. Potter stuttered. The old man raised up his head and stuck out his chest in defiance. “I will have control of this town!" Mr. Potter yelled with confidence. 

 

******************* 

 

Can the ghost of Jacob Marley either stop Mr. Potter from destroying Bedford Falls or even find a way to redeem him? 

 

Or will Mr. Potter continue his life of greed in his pursuit to take over Bedford Falls?