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It should go without saying that today Amara is reading Realmgard’s version of A Christmas Carol.
That’s CLEARLY Elizondo Scrubb and the Phantom of Wintermorn That Is…
From an 1843 edition of “A Christmas Carol.” Public Domain.
© 2025 – J.B. Norman, published by Emona Literary Services
Sighing with literary contentment and dabbing her tear-filled eyes with her handkerchief, Amara sets down her book.
“Well,” she says. “I’ve finished my annual readthrough of the Lay of Wintermorn. It’s officially the Wintermorn season now.”
“You read that book every year, Amara,” Kat notes. “How does it still make you cry that much?
“Because, my dear Katherine,” Amara answers. “The Lay of Wintermorn is a heart-rending tale of the triumph of the Wintermorn spirit.”
“It’s about ghosts,” Kat protests. “Isn’t that more of a Heroes’ Eve thing?”
“They are not ghosts, Katherine! They are spirits!” Amara counters.
Kat blinks mutely.
“And don’t you dare ask, What’s the difference, Amara?” Amara continues.
She does that nose-wiggle thing she does when she catches herself losing her composure and clears her throat.
“However, for your own benefit, Katherine,” she pointedly continues continuing. “A ghost is the vestige of any deceased human individual still active in the human world. Whereas a spirit, is any supernatural being of indeterminate but incorporeal origin.”
Kat blinks mutely.
“Look, the important thing is that Elizondo Scrubb was a man possessed of such a cold and miserly heart that it took nothing less than direct supernatural intervention to steer him back towards the Good,” Amara says.
Amara rolls her eyes and heaves a heavy sigh.
“Honestly, Katherine. It’s only the most famous Wintermorn book ever written. Surely, you know the story by now.”
“Uh, yeah…” Kat murmurs.
Amara stares gravely at her. “Katherine, you’re talking like someone who’s never read it.”
“Actually, um I, uh, I’ve never read it,” Kat admits. “I’ve just heard people talk about it every year, so I’ve picked up what it’s about.”
“Katherine! That will simply not do! How have you never read the Lay of Wintermorn?” Amara cries.
“Hey! I saw a play of it!” Kat protests.
“It was puppets! That hardly counts!”
Amara snatches the book up and pats the spot next to her on the chaise. “Sit down, Katherine. Right this minute. Much like the Phantoms of Wintermorn That Was, That Is, and That Shall Come to Pass, I shall take it upon myself
She frowns.
“Though I suppose it’s not single-handedly if there’s three of them…”
She does the nose-wiggle thing and clears her throat again.
“Be that as it may, you shall be my Elizondo Scrubb and I shall save you!”
Kat throws her hands up in disbelief. “What the heck, Amara? You’re comparing me to the guy who tried to steal Wintermorn just because I haven’t read a book? But books are dumb!”
“No, Katherine. Elizondo Scrubb never stole Winterborn. You’re thinking of the Goblin Prince of Mount Miserable.”
She pats the chaise again.
“Now, sit down, Katherine.”
“Will you do the voices?” Kat asks, settling onto the chaise beside her friend.
“Yes, Katherine. I’ll do the voices.”
Amara opens the book and begins to read:
‘Merton was deceased from the get-go. Though heretofore being deceased, the erstwhile Jacobeus R. Merton, Esquire nevertheless paid a Wintermorn’s Eve visit to a certain Elizondo Scrubb.’
“See?” Kat interjects, feeling quite vindicated. “I told you it was about ghosts!”
“Quiet, you.”
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