“Are you the Spirit, sir, whose coming was foretold to me?” asked Trump when he awoke at one a.m. to find a visage of Abraham Lincoln beside his bed.
“I am!” The voice was soft and gentle. Singularly high and screeching, as if instead of being so close beside him, it were at a distance.
“Who, and what are you?” Trump demanded.
“I am the Ghost of Christmas Past.”
“Long Past?” inquired Trump: observant of its tall stature.
“No. Your past.”
Trump then made bold to inquire what business brought him there.
“Your welfare!” said the Ghost.
Trump expressed himself much obliged, but could not help thinking that a night of unbroken rest would have been more conducive to that end. The Spirit must have heard him thinking, for it said immediately:
“Your reclamation, then. Take heed!”
It put out its strong hand as it spoke, and clasped him gently by the arm.
“Rise! and walk with me!”
It would have been in vain for Trump to plead that the weather and the hour were not adapted to pedestrian purposes; that bed was warm, and the thermometer a long way below freezing; that he was clad but lightly in his slippers, pajamas and robe; and that he had a cold upon him at that time. The grasp, though gentle as a woman’s hand, was not to be resisted. He rose: but finding that the Spirit made towards the window, clasped his coat in supplication.
“I am a mortal,” Trump remonstrated, “and liable to fall.”
“Bear but a touch of my hand there,” said the Spirit, laying it upon his heart, “and you shall be upheld in more than this!”
As the words were spoken, they passed through the wall, and stood upon a television studio. “Good Heaven!” said Trump, clasping his hands together, as he looked about him. “I was a TV star in this place!”
The Spirit gazed upon him mildly. Its gentle touch, though it had been light and instantaneous, appeared still present to the old man’s sense of feeling. He was conscious of a thousand odors floating in the air, each one connected with a thousand memories, and hopes, and joys, and cares long, long, forgotten!
“Here you fired celebrities for no other reasons than ratings and you had the power to do it without question,” said the Ghost of Christmas Past.
“Fake News!” cried Trump. “I fired them all because they were incompetent louts unworthy of their own star status. They needed firing and I fired them because I was a good man of business.”
“Business!” cried the Ghost, wringing its hands. “Mankind is your business. The common welfare is your business; charity, mercy, forbearance, and benevolence, are, all, your business. The dealings of your investments and businesses are but a drop of water in the comprehensive ocean of your business!”
“Fake News,” cried Trump.
To be continued...
Mary wasn’t your ordinary unmarried pregnant teenager. This kid had moxie and connections in extremely high places.
In Fulfillment, the secret concerning the baby in Mary’s womb attracts evil spirits, a woman-hating ancient Israeli monster named Lilith, a king, soldiers and a would-be lover all bent on destroying her. Mary’s journey, while steeped with betrayal and the foul stench of the ultimate demon, is a setup for an even bigger story. She discovers a lost love found, the promise of a newborn king, and a wealth of new friends from a dwarf with the heart of a warrior to the young mother who loses her husband and children in a bloody massacre. Laugh, cry and gain new insights into the Christmas story as you read Fulfillment.
“The dragon stood in front of the woman who was about to give birth so that he might devour her child the moment it was born.”
Revelation 12:4b
Click here to choose the paperback or Kindle version.
Paperback copies make excellent Christmas presents, especially for those who enjoy an original horror story. Tell them it's like Stephen King or Frank Peretti visiting the first century.
Click here to visit my author page on Amazon.
No comments:
Post a Comment