The First Spirit-Ghost's of Christmas's Past

Silent Night, Holy Night, all is calm, all is bright

Johnathan woke up with a start, suddenly feeling dirty and wet. He looked around himself and gasped in horror. It didn't take him long to realize that the dirty, muddy and near endless field littered with barbed wire and corpses was No Man's land.

"Horrifying isn't it?"

Johnathan whipped his head around and stared speechless at the tall young man in a WWI era uniform. The letters on his uniform were rusted and grimy but readable.

Sgt.Jacob Bisping.

This man...he was startlingly familiar to his grandfather albeit much younger. "Jacob?" he whispered.

The gruff young man nodded, his helmet straps making a ting sound against his helmet. "That's me kid."

Johnathan raised his eyebrow and opened his mouth to contradict his grandfather. After all he looked much older than him in this present state. "Son, I believe you have the roles revers-" He stopped mid-speech as he raised his hand. His faced turned a ghostly pale of white as he stared at not the old wrinkly hand of old but the flawless hand of a youth. He gazed downwards at a small puddle below him, seeing the reflection of a handsome youth in his early 20's. "What the hell?"

Suddenly he was grabbed by the neck and lifted to his feet.He stared up at the sight of his grandfather in his prime, a youthful and muscular figure not to be tangled with. "So you're the idiot who don't appreciate  Christmas huh?"

"R...right...I don't find it productive or useful," Johnathan swallowed. "In fact I find it pretty damn stupid." As he tried to stand straighter, to prove his bravery to his grandfather, a passing artillery shell exploded, knocking him to his feet. he curled up in a ball and screamed in horror, tightly shutting his eyes.

Laughter caused him to open his eyes and uncurl himself. He glared at the sight of Jacob laughing at him. "Jesus kid. The things that can happen during this ugly war. Sometimes it can be as bad as seeing your buddies torn to pieces by shells like that." Suddenly the area began to flicker, to the shock of Johnathan. He shut his eyes tightly, scared that something horrible was about to happen.

"Oi Brit! Pass me the ball!"

Johnathan opened his eyes yet again to see another young man with glowing blue eyes speaking Jacob. His uniform was a German infantry one Johnathan was sure. Why no one was shooting him puzzled him.

He turned around to see Jacob expertly flick the ball up and kick it the the German. "Merry Christmas kraut."

The German tipped his helmet to them. "Same to you Brit." He saluted him and yelled to a group of British and German soldiers playing a game of football(soccer).

Johnathan stared at them in disbelief. "I don't understand."

"What's there not to understand?" Jacob asked him. "Christmas for you is a time of financial issues and paying others to in your opinion laze around. It's not any of those. It's about family, about friends and about unity. You must be one stubborn idiot to not take time to even celebrate it."

Johnathan shook his head. "You've got to understand Jacob, it's a waste of time, time that could be spent doing something so much more productive."

A soccer ball to the head made Johnathan duck, straight into a mud puddle. As he closed his eyes a hand grabbed him by the collar and pulled him up. He opened his eyes and stared face to face at the scowl of his grandfather. "You really are a bloody idiot aren't you?" He said gritting his teeth. "If the Germans and we had been more "productive" hundreds, maybe thousands of people would be dead in this very field! And maybe I'd have been dead, never able to see my own son!"

Johnathan's heart stopped for a minute at the mention of his father. "Your son..."

The soldier nodded before throwing him away. "You are a stubborn man my friend and I've done all I can to change you otherwise. I wish you the best of luck on your journey."

"Wait what-" Johnathan was cut off from what he was saying, suddenly feeling his body disappear.

Jacob stared upwards at the sky, pulling out a picture from his pocket. He gazed at the black and white photo of his wife, a small baby in her hands. "Let's hope you and your children are less stubborn than that guy my son." He kissed the photo before running towards his fellow comrades, yelling at them to pass the ball.

"Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht, Alles schlaft, einsam wacht"

The End

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