By Sarah Gray
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Additional resources for A Vampire Christmas Carol
Ebenezer,” she repeated, more softly this time, her voice as haunting as the black and gray glooms that followed him each day and night. When he turned, for the briefest moment, he did not see a woman of the age she was (younger than he but not by many years), but as she had been in past. He remembered Belle at about twenty, when her hair was not tucked matronly upon her head but fell free in natural ringlets. A lovely girl, with a frank face, and wonderful eyes, eyes so large, so soft, so bright, set to such perfection in her kind good head.
The door of Scrooge’s interior office was open that he might keep his eye upon his clerks, who in a dismal little cell beyond, a sort of tank, were copying ledgers. Bob Cratchit was one. He had been with Scrooge and Marley from the early days; for how many years, Scrooge could not recollect. It seemed as if he had always been there upon his stool. And then there was Lucius Disgut, who arrived unexpectedly the very week Marley died. Willing to work long hours for miniscule wages, willing to be degraded and taken advantage of by his employer, he was practically a gift from the heavens.
Mind! I don’t mean to say that I know, of my own knowledge, what there is particularly dead about a door-nail. I might have been inclined, myself, to regard a coffin-nail as the deadest piece of ironmongery in the trade. But the wisdom of our ancestors is in the simile, and my unhallowed hands shall not disturb it, or the country’s done for. You will therefore permit me to repeat, emphatically, that Marley was as dead as a door-nail. As was Wahltraud, I must inject, for I cannot withhold the information a moment longer.
A Vampire Christmas Carol by Sarah Gray