The three of them crowded into the cab, and the horse began to trot through the dark, foggy city, its hooves clopping on the cobblestones.
“Ah!” said Charles, clapping his hands. “I know now what I shall write about! I will write a Christmas story about a man whose life is changed by three ghosts! The Ghost of Christmas Past! The Ghost of Christmas Present! And the Ghost of Christmas Future! What do you think of that?”
“It sounds brilliant,” said Jack.
“I agree!” said Charles. “I’ll write about a greedy, selfish man who helps no one. Like—like Mr. Pinch! But I’ll call him—what shall I call him?”
“How about Scrooge?” said Annie.
“Wonderful name!” Charles laughed. “Mr. Scrooge! I love it. The three ghosts will change Scrooge’s life! Do you like that idea?”
“Love it,” said Jack.
“Good!” said Charles. “I think I shall just be able to write the story in time for Christmas. Hah! Perhaps I’ll call it A Ghost Story of Christmas.”
“Hmm. Or maybe you could just call it A Christmas Carol,” said Jack.
“Oh! I love that!” said Charles. “Yes, perhaps I’ll call it A Christmas Carol. And then underneath those words, I’ll write: Being a Ghost Story of Christmas!”
“That sounds good,” said Annie.
“That should make people want to read it,” said Charles. “Everyone loves a ghost story, don’t they?”
“Well …,” started Jack.
“Of course they do!” said Charles. “It all makes sense to me now. I will keep using my books to fight greed and cruelty. My pen is my sword. Except my books will never celebrate wars and fighting. They’ll always show the joys and sorrows of real people. They’ll show how good always triumphs over evil.”
“Great,” said Jack.
Charles sat back in his carriage seat and chuckled, his eyes shining in the lamplight. “I’m as light as a feather, as happy as an angel. Am I not the luckiest man on earth?”
“I think you might be,” said Annie.
The horse came to a stop. “Hyde Park, Mr. Dickens, sir,” the driver called down.
“Well, Jack and Annie, I hope you have enjoyed your time with me. I trust I have been of some help to you,” said Charles. He sounded like the old Charles, pleased and proud of himself.
Jack didn’t mind. A happy Charles was much better than a sad one.
“Yes,” said Jack. “But we have to give this back to you.” He pulled out the leather wallet that Charles had given them. “Thanks, but we don’t need it.”
“Oh, no, please keep it,” said Charles. “Buy food with the money. Buy boots. Buy books!”
“Actually, we have lots of books,” said Jack. “And we have food at home and shoes and parents. We have everything we need.”
“Charles, please share it with others who aren’t so lucky,” said Annie.
“Why, I don’t know what to say,” said Charles. “You two are the most extraordinary children I’ve ever met. Clearly you have good, generous hearts. You already live the message I want to write in A Christmas Carol.”
Annie smiled. “Yeah, well, it’s always good to be reminded,” she said. “I can’t wait to read your story.”
“And where will you go now?” asked Charles. “Will you be safe?”
“Yes, our parents take good care of us,” said Jack. “You don’t have to worry.”
“I shall never forget you,” said Charles.
“We won’t forget you, either,” said Annie. “Good-bye, Charles.”
Jack and Annie hopped down from the cab and took off through the park. The fog was so thick it was impossible to see the tree house. Jack couldn’t even see Annie. He was relieved when she called out, “I found it!”
Jack ran toward the sound of Annie’s voice. She was already halfway up the ladder. As he started up after her, church bells began to bong, striking the hour.
Jack and Annie climbed inside the tree house and looked out the window. But there was nothing to see, nothing except the heavy fog.
“Charles is going to be fine,” said Annie.
“Yep,” said Jack with a smile. “He never even knew that it was us who helped him.”
“That’s the best way to help someone, I think,” said Annie.
“Why?” asked Jack.
“Then you know you’re not helping them just to get a lot of credit,” said Annie. “You’re helping because it’s the right thing to do.”
Jack nodded. What Annie had just said felt true. “Ready to go home now?” he said. He picked up the Pennsylvania book.
Annie nodded.
Jack pointed to a picture of the Frog Creek woods. “I wish we could go home,” he said.
The wind began to blow.
The tree house started to spin.
It spun faster and faster.
Then everything was still.
Absolutely still.
No time at all had passed in Frog Creek. The sky was lit by the orange afterglow of the sunset. Jack and Annie were wearing their jeans and jackets and sneakers again. The green velvet bag had changed back into Jack’s backpack.
“Jack! Annie!” two voices called from the woods below.
Jack and Annie looked out the window. Teddy and Kathleen stood in the shadows beneath them!
“Hi! Hi!” Annie and Jack called. They quickly climbed down the rope ladder and hopped to the ground.
“We’re glad to see you!” said Annie. “Why are you here?”
Before Teddy or Kathleen could answer, the leaves rustled, and out from the dark trees stepped Morgan le Fay and Merlin the magician.
“Morgan! Merlin!” said Annie.
Peep.
“Penny!” said Jack.
Waddling behind Merlin was the baby penguin Jack and Annie had given to Merlin after their trip to Antarctica.
Peep.
Kathleen picked up Penny and held the little penguin in her arms.
Peep. Peep.
Jack and Annie laughed. “How are you, Penny?” asked Jack.
“She is wonderful,” said Morgan. “She is dearly loved in Camelot. I would say Penny has become the very heart of our kingdom.”
“She hasn’t gotten any bigger,” said Jack.
Merlin smiled. “Time passes very slowly in Camelot,” he said.
“Indeed,” said Morgan. “Camelot has hardly aged at all since we last saw you.”
“But you have accomplished much in that time,” said Merlin. “You have completed your missions to help four artists give their gifts to the world.”
“And from all we hear,” said Morgan, “you were as successful with Charles Dickens as you were with Lady Augusta Gregory, Louis Armstrong, and Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.”
“I guess we were,” Jack said modestly.
“I loved Charles,” said Annie. “I loved all of them. I felt like we became good friends with them.”
“Yeah, and I’m really sad that I won’t see them again,” said Jack.
“We thought you might feel that way,” said Kathleen.
“Merlin and Morgan have something to show you,” said Teddy.
“But first, may we have the magic violin and bow back?” asked Kathleen.
“Oh, sure,” said Jack. He reached into his backpack and pulled out the violin and bow.
Teddy took the violin from him, and Kathleen took the bow. “On your last four missions, you played a magic violin, a magic Irish whistle, a magic trumpet, and a magic flute,” said Kathleen.
Jack and Annie nodded.
“Do you remember where the magic came from?” said Kathleen. She tossed the violin bow into the air. It was still for a moment. Then it began to twirl around and around. There was a flash of blue light. The violin and bow disappeared. Floating in the air was an object shaped like the spiraled horn of a unicorn.
“The Wand of Dianthus!” Jack and Annie said together.
“Yes,” said Kathleen. She plucked the wand from the air and handed it to Mer
lin.
Merlin closed his eyes. He waved the Wand of Dianthus in a circle and whispered words Jack couldn’t understand.
There was a whoosh of wind, and they were all standing at the corner of Jack and Annie’s street. Some people were walking by in the dusk. Jack looked worriedly at Merlin, Morgan, Teddy, Kathleen, and Penny. What would people say when they saw them?
“Do not worry,” Morgan said, as if she could read Jack’s mind. “They see and hear only you and Annie.”
“Listen carefully,” said Merlin.
Jack listened. Beautiful music was coming from a house on the corner.
“A string quartet is rehearsing for a Mozart concert at a church this Saturday,” said Merlin.
“Oh, wow,” said Annie.
Merlin waved the wand in a circle and whispered more magic words.
Whoosh! They were all standing outside a window of a large brick building. Inside, kids were playing trumpets, saxophones, and drums. “Hey, it’s the band room at the middle school,” Jack said.
“Yes, the band is rehearsing a Louis Armstrong song for the jazz festival next week,” said Morgan.
Again Merlin waved the wand in a circle and whispered magic words. Whoosh! They all stood at a window of a white wooden building. “It’s the Frog Creek library!” said Annie. Inside the library, a woman sat in an armchair, talking and waving her hands. Children sat at her feet, listening.
“A storyteller is telling Irish folktales,” said Kathleen. “Stories collected by Augusta Gregory.”
Merlin waved the wand in a circle and whispered magic words again. Whoosh! They were all standing at the back of a dark auditorium. Actors were rehearsing on the stage.
“Back by popular demand,” Teddy whispered, “the Frog Creek Little Theater presents Charles Dickens’s A Christmas Carol.”
“Yay! We can go see it again,” whispered Annie.
“Yes. And that is how you will visit with Charles Dickens again,” said Merlin.
“Charles Dickens, Lady Augusta Gregory, Louis Armstrong, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, and all other great artists live on through their work,” said Morgan.
“You put your four friends on the path to giving their gifts to the world,” said Kathleen.
“And the world still receives their gifts,” said Teddy.
“You accomplished your mission,” Merlin said to Jack and Annie. “Thank you for helping bring happiness to millions.”
“You’re welcome,” said Jack.
“No problem,” said Annie.
Jack turned back to watch the rehearsal of A Christmas Carol.
The Ghost of Christmas Future had just left the stage, and Scrooge was alone in his bedroom. The actor playing Scrooge started hopping about, laughing and crying in the same breath. “I am as light as a feather!” he shouted. “I am as happy as an angel!”
Jack and Annie laughed at Scrooge’s wild joy. Jack turned around to laugh with the others. But they were gone. Merlin, Morgan, Teddy, Kathleen, and Penny had all vanished.
“Where …?” Jack said.
“They must’ve gone home to Camelot,” said Annie. “But I’ll bet we’ll see them again soon.”
Jack nodded. “We should go home now, too,” he said.
As Scrooge was shouting “Merry Christmas!” to the world, Jack and Annie slipped out of the Frog Creek Little Theater. Then they ran through the cool autumn evening, heading for home.
In the autumn of 1843, the young writer Charles Dickens was greatly disturbed by the plight of England’s poor people. He was especially worried about children, as he was haunted by his own memories of being a desperately poor child. Seeking guidance and inspiration, he often took twilight walks through some of London’s worst neighborhoods.
One evening on a walk, Dickens came up with the idea of writing A Christmas Carol in Prose: Being a Ghost Story of Christmas, as he subtitled it. The story included a miserly man named Scrooge, a small child known as Tiny Tim, and three Christmas ghosts. Dickens wrote feverishly and finished his ghost story by early December. It was quickly published and sold out its first six thousand copies.
A Christmas Carol has since become one of the world’s best-loved stories. Written at a time when Christmas traditions were on the decline, it is often credited with reviving holiday customs and encouraging families to gather together during the Christmas season and to be more generous toward those less fortunate.
After writing A Christmas Carol, Charles Dickens went on to create many other great works, including David Copperfield, Bleak House, and Great Expectations. During the Victorian age, his books not only brought people great pleasure, but helped inspire Britain to make many reforms to improve conditions for the poor.
Here’s a special preview of
Magic Tree House #45
(A Merlin Mission)
A CRAZY DAY WITH COBRAS
Available January 2011!
Please note that the following excerpt may change for the actual printing of Magic Tree House #45: A Crazy Day with Cobras.
Excerpt copyright © 2011 by Mary Pope Osborne.
Published by Random House Children’s Books,
a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
“The weather’s getting warmer,” said Jack. He and Annie were walking home from school under a cloudless May sky. A warm breeze blew the newly green trees that lined their street.
“I love it,” said Annie. “It makes me feel like something good’s going to happen.”
“Something good already happened,” said Jack. “My teacher finally gave back my story today.”
“The one about our adventures in the tree house?” asked Annie.
“Yep. She said I have a fantastic imagination,” said Jack.
“Great!” said Annie.
“And she loved your drawings for the story, too,” said Jack. “She said you’re really talented.”
“That’s nice!” said Annie. “Maybe she loved the sparkle pens I used.”
“Yeah, the only thing she didn’t love was the type I chose,” said Jack. “She said it was hard to read because it was too fancy.”
“I really like that curly type,” said Annie.
“Me too,” said Jack. “But it’s no big deal—she still gave me an A plus.”
“Wow, cool,” said Annie.
As they reached the edge of the Frog Creek woods, a gust of wind shook the tree branches. Jack’s baseball cap blew off. He grabbed his cap from the sidewalk. The wind blew harder.
“What’s happening?” said Annie.
Suddenly two figures rushed out of the woods. Their dark cloaks flapped behind them as they hurried toward Jack and Annie.
“Teddy!” said Annie.
“Kathleen!” said Jack.
The red-haired teenage boy and the beautiful girl with dark wavy hair ran to Jack and Annie and hugged them.
“You must come with us to the tree house!” said Kathleen. “Hurry!”
“Why? What’s up?” said Jack.
“We’ll explain when we get there!” said Teddy. He and Kathleen turned and started back into the woods. As Jack and Annie raced after them, sunlight slanted through the leafy treetops.
Soon they all came to the tallest oak tree. “Up, up!” cried Teddy.
One by one, Teddy, Kathleen, Jack, and Annie scrambled up the rope ladder and climbed into the magic tree house. When they were all inside, Teddy heaved a sigh. “My friends, we desperately need your help,” he said.
“What’s wrong?” asked Annie.
“We made a terrible mistake!” said Kathleen.
“No, it was me, just me,” said Teddy. “I made the mistake.”
“What did you do?” said Jack.
“I turned Penny into a stone statue,” said Teddy.
“Penny?” said Annie. “A statue?”
“Oh, no,” said Jack. He loved the little orphan penguin that he and Annie had found on one of their adventures. Penny had helped save Merlin’s life.
“It was a
n accident,” said Kathleen.
“It was stupidity!” said Teddy. “We were in Morgan’s library, and I was looking at spells in her books. Morgan forbids us to try any spells on our own, but I disobeyed when I found a simple one that turns things into stone. I thought I’d just give it a quick try—I turned an apple, a goblet of water, and a writing quill all to stone!”
“Teddy was pointing at a walking stick by the doorway, reciting the words of the spell,” said Kathleen. “And just as he finished, Penny wandered in, and the spell hit her!”
“And now she’s a stone statue,” Teddy said miserably.
“That’s terrible,” said Annie.
“Well, can’t you just ask Merlin or Morgan to use their magic to bring Penny back to life?” asked Jack.
“No, no, they must never learn anything about this! If they do, I …,” said Teddy. He shook his head and looked away.
“Merlin and Morgan are both in Avalon for the Festival of May,” said Kathleen. “If they discover what Teddy has done, we fear Merlin will banish him from the kingdom.”
“Really?” said Annie.
“Yes, Merlin will be enraged,” said Kathleen. “Penny is the very heart of our kingdom. We all love her very much.”
“Me too,” said Jack. He thought about the penguin’s fuzzy head, the funny way she peeped, the way she loved and trusted everyone.
“The good news is that we have found a rhyme that tells us how to reverse the stone spell,” said Kathleen. She took a note from her cloak.
“The bad news is that it is written in an ancient language,” said Teddy. “We have only translated eight lines so far.”
Kathleen read from the note:
Ye say that ye wish
your spell be reversed?
Four things ye must find.
Here is the first:
In the shape of a rose
is an emerald stone
that uncovers the heart
of one who’s alone.
“An emerald stone shaped like a rose?” said Jack. He took the note from Kathleen and looked at it. “That’s what you have to find first?”
“Yes, only we must spend our time trying to translate the rest of the spell before Merlin and Morgan return,” said Kathleen, “so we need you and Annie to look for the emerald rose.”
A Ghost Tale for Christmas Time Page 5
