A Christmas Carol - Scrooge & Marley PDF

PART 1 -- Marley's Ghost MARLEY was dead: to begin with. This must be understood, or this story will mean nothing to anybody. So, we start with the fact that Scrooge's business partner Marley had died and Scrooge now carried on the money-lending business alone. He never removed Old Marley's name fro...

PART 1 -- Marley's Ghost MARLEY was dead: to begin with. This must be understood, or this story will mean nothing to anybody. So, we start with the fact that Scrooge's business partner Marley had died and Scrooge now carried on the money-lending business alone. He never removed Old Marley's name from the door of the office, even though his old partner was -- definitely -- dead. The company was known, still, as Scrooge and Marley. Sometimes people called Scrooge "Scrooge", and sometimes they got his name wrong and called him "Marley", but he answered to both names. It was all the same to him. Oh! Scrooge was a selfish old git! He was as cold as a freezing winter night, and he didn't thaw one degree at Christmas. He hated Christmas and everything it stood for. No 'season of goodwill' -- for him it was just another excuse to grumble and moan, and stay at home counting his money. One dark Christmas Eve, old Scrooge sat busy in his counting-house, counting out his money. It was freezing, foggy weather outside. Scrooge had a very small fire in his office. But next door in his clerk's office the poor fire was even smaller and hardly even warm at all. His poor clerk, called Bob Cratchit, had worked for Scrooge for years, and yet had never once received a pay rise. "Merry Christmas, uncle!" said Scrooge's nephew Fred coming into the room. "Bah!" said Scrooge, "Humbug!" "Christmas a humbug, uncle?" he said. "You don't mean that do you?" "If it was up to me," said Scrooge indignantly, "every idiot who goes about with 'Merry Christmas' on his lips, should be boiled with his own pudding, and buried with a stake of holly through his heart!" The nephew answered, "Don't be angry, uncle. Come to our place for Christmas tomorrow." "Bah, humbug! Christmas! Don't talk to me about Christmas. It's all just a big jumped up shopping spree invented by the Americans. The whole thing is just a scam to get the money out of your pocket! Well, not mine -- I'm keeping mine. You do Christmas your way, and I'll do it my way, here on my own, just like every other day, thank you very much!" "Suit yourself Uncle, but we'll miss you this year, again" said Scrooge's nephew. "Merry Christmas, uncle!" "Good afternoon!" said Scrooge. His nephew even stopped to wish "Merry Christmas" to the clerk. The poor, cold clerk, Bob Cratchit, managed a thin smile and a weak "merry christmas" in return as Scrooge's nephew left. As he left, Fred let two other people in. They entered and bowed to Scrooge. "Mr. Scrooge, or Mr. Marley?" said one of the gentlemen. "Mr. Marley," Scrooge replied, "died seven years ago, this very night." "Oh, sorry for your loss" said one of the men. "What do you want?" snapped Scrooge. "Mr. Scrooge," said the gentleman, "It looks like it's going to be an especially freezing winter this year. A few of us are going to buy some meat and drink for the Poor, and some blankets to keep them warm this Christmas. What would you like to give?" "Nothing," said Scrooge. "If they've got no money they can borrow it, or failing that go to the debtors' prisons." "Many would rather die than do that." "If they would rather die," said Scrooge, "they had better do it, and decrease the surplus population. Good afternoon, gentlemen!" Scrooge went back to his work. Meanwhile it got even foggier, darker and colder outside. Some carol singers walked by Scrooge's office. One cold young boy stooped down at Scrooge's keyhole to sing a Christmas carol: "God bless you, merry gentleman! May nothing you dismay!" As soon as he heard it Scrooge jumped up so that the singer fled in terror, leaving the keyhole to the fog. Eventually, closing time arrived. Scrooge nodded to the clerk Mr Cratchit, who instantly snuffed his candle out, and put on his hat. "You'll want all day off tomorrow, I suppose?" said Scrooge. "Yes please Mr Scrooge. Christmas Day, you know. It is only once a year, after all" "A poor excuse for picking a man's pocket every twenty-fifth of December!" said Scrooge. "No day off for you. I expect you to be here extra early next morning." Cratchit just looked at him. Scrooge went home to his gloomy house. The yard outside was dark and the fog and frost hung about the place. As he approached his door, something strange happened. Now, the knocker on his door was very large and ordinary. But tonight it looked like... well, it looked like Marley's face. Marley's face. The eyes were wide open, and its grayish colour made it horrible in the half light. As Scrooge looked more closely, it became a knocker again. He did look carefully, but the knocker was still a knocker. "Load of old nonsense!" said Scrooge to himself. He closed his door and double-locked himself in. He walked through his rooms to see that everything was all right and then sat by the f ire. "Humbug!" he said. "Stupid Christmas. I'll be glad when it's all over and people start acting normally again." And then he heard it -- a clanking noise, from the cellar, as if some person were dragging a heavy chain. Scrooge tried to ignore it, and opened his paper. Then he heard the sound again. The noise of heavy chains being dragged, and a faint sound of moaning. Scrooge suddenly sat upright in his chair. The noise was real, and it was getting louder. Suddenly the cellar-door flew open with a booming sound, and then he heard the noise coming up the stairs, then straight towards his door. Quickly it came on through the heavy door and passed into the room right in front of his eyes.