The Twilight Zone by Nona Fernández (inspirational books .txt) 📗

any secret prison. It’s Christmas Eve and he’s on guard duty. Prisoners and guards alike are immersed in silence, no carols or “Jingle Bells.” This woman’s voice fills the space with good wishes for all Chileans. She talks about the importance of family, of loved ones, of this special and symbolic day. She talks about the baby Jesus, the manger, the cows, the pigs, the donkey, Mary, the Three Kings, the little star of Bethlehem, Christmas magic, and the all-powerful love of God.

On this Christmas, or maybe a different one, a guard was inspired to do a good deed. Probably he had been visited by some ghost of his own Christmases, and, in a humanitarian gesture, he went around opening the cell doors and bringing out the longest-serving prisoners to dine with the guards that night. I don’t know what kind of food was served for Christmas dinner in a detention center. Probably the same thing as always, but being free for a moment and sharing a plate of whatever it was must have made the dinner different, I imagine. Maybe there was a bottle of wine. Maybe some milky, aguardiente-spiked cola de mono and Christmas cake. Maybe someone lit a candle. Maybe everyone sat back and talked, sticking to subjects that erased differences. They probably recalled past Christmases, gifts given and received. Guards and prisoners developed close relationships, having spent so long together. They were bound by a strange kind of intimacy, which, I imagine, let them enjoy a special moment that night. But the gathering didn’t last long. The unit head showed up in the middle of the night and caught them in their forbidden Christmas celebration. The candle was abruptly blown out. The bottle of wine was corked and Christmas cake and cola de mono were cleared from the table. The party ended all at once and the prisoners went back to their cells, while the guard responsible lost his job and was expelled from the air force.

The third specter to appear to Ebenezer Scrooge is the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come. This spirit is draped in a black robe that covers its head, its face, and the rest of its body. Only its outstretched hand is visible, the index finger pointing forward. If it hadn’t been for this hand, the specter would have been hard to see in the dark of night. Though accustomed to the presence of ghosts, Scrooge was so afraid of this mysterious spirit that he could barely stand.

Ghost of the future, he said, I fear you more than any specter I have seen. But as I hope to live to be another man than what I was before, I’m prepared to see what you have to show me.

What follows is a walk around the city at night. Scrooge and the ghost hear a kind of vast murmur, the conversations of people in the street. All are talking about the recent death of someone who doesn’t seem to have been well liked. No one weeps for him or mourns his departure. Christmas, they think, will be better this year now that he’s vanished from the face of the earth. Before Scrooge can find out whose death they are talking about, the ghost brings him before the lonely body. The man is wrapped in a shroud, his face hidden. The room where he lies is dismal and sad. There are no flowers, no candles. No one is sitting with the dead man, no one is keeping him company, only the rats that begin to creep into the room. It’s a disturbing, painful picture. Scrooge tries to understand the meaning of what the ghost is showing him, but before he can, he’s whisked somewhere else.

Suddenly he finds himself in a humble abode. It is the home of Bob Cratchit, clerk at Scrooge’s counting house. A man he has never bothered to learn anything about, despite the many years they’ve worked together. Scrooge sees Bob in a child’s room. He is sitting on a chair weeping to himself as he looks around. A small crutch on the bed tells Scrooge that the clerk’s ailing son has been dead for some time. In this scene from Christmas yet to come, Bob has come to the room to weep alone, so that the rest of the family doesn’t have to be sad.

Then Bob sits down at the table with his children and his wife. He makes everyone promise they will never forget Tiny Tim, which is what the boy was called. No matter how many years go by, we won’t forget this parting, he says. We’ll always remember how patient and good he was, and we won’t quarrel among ourselves over foolish things, because valuing our time together is the Christmas gift that your brother left us.

In his invisible state, Scrooge watches. The scene is sad, but it’s as luminous as the candles on the Cratchits’ table. The boy isn’t here, but his presence is felt. Something seems to click in Ebenezer Scrooge’s mind, or maybe his icy heart, as he recalls that lonely body, its sadness untouched by the glow of this house.

Specter, something tells me that we will soon part ways, says Scrooge. But first I must know the name of that poor man we saw lying dead.

The Ghost of Christmas yet to come points its finger and conveys Ebenezer Scrooge to a different time with no clear connection to the scenes that came before, a future moment edited at his own random production table. This time, Scrooge ends up at a cemetery. To his surprise he finds himself at an iron gate, accompanied by the specter, who keeps pointing forward. The horrible person hated by all, the person whose name he is about to learn, is buried here. The spirit stands among the graves and points to one of them. Scrooge advances, trembling, but before he moves closer he asks the immutable spirit, who never replies, whether what he’s seen tonight is the