Adrianna McKinney '26
Amanda woke up from a hazy dream. She was no Scrooge or a criminal, she was just never herself. Never who she really was. Maybe that’s why the ghosts of Christmas past, present, and future had visited her to change how she’d spent Christmas.
Amanda’s mom had asked her what she wanted for Christmas and she answered with a curt, “Nothing”. After that, her mom relentlessly questioned; “How could a girl be so young and want nothing in her life? Did she really have everything she wanted?” But in a way she was used to this, having a child that was too “mature” and too afraid to ask for anything. They weren’t particularly poor: they seemed to be the perfect family, and yet Amanada was far from a perfect daughter. She wasn’t a bad person, necessarily, but in her own eyes she always was.
She was a disappointment, Amanda constantly thought. Would they really love me if I were myself? She wondered and questioned. She frequently thought that if she were to be herself no one would like her or hang out with her. Lonely. Lonely. Lonely, she thought she would become, and that was her fear. Being alone and rejected, cast aside, scared her. But in reality she was already this way.
So one night, when she heard a child, she panicked and startled. Amanda looked around the room but saw no one. Suddenly she saw something, someone hiding behind her lavender curtains. With fear and anxiety building up and reaching unreachable heights, she pushed aside the curtain, only to find a little girl; she was pale, hunched over, and breathing heavily. It looked like a ghost straight out of a horror movie.
The little girl started to talk in a timid voice and said she was the ghost of Christmas past. The little girl grabbed Amanda’s hand, ran out of the bedroom, and pulled her out of the front door. On the sidewalk, Amanda looked around and saw the buildings changing, deconstructing, being replaced with old stores. One minute ago it was nighttime on December 15th, but now it was morning, on December 25th, ten years ago. Terrified, Amanda released the little girl’s hand and ran back to her house. Barging the door open, she went straight to her room. Amanda abruptly stopped, wide eyed, as she saw herself, waking up. She was younger, about five years old, sweet, and innocent.
Five-year-old Amanda practically jumped out of bed, secretly excited for presents and morning cinnamon buns – she could smell them from her bedroom. But when she saw her presents, all of sudden she became completely composed, as if she hadn’t been elated moments before. Present Amanada watched, barely remembering this day, as all the years were jumbled up and scrambled to the point that she didn’t even remember what her parents gave her last year. But she would always know exactly how she reacted on this day, later, at around 9:00 a.m.
Five-year-old Amanada and her seven-year-old brother John started opening presents. Current Amanada waited for the inevitable to happen. Her mom would hold up her phone and record her children opening up their gifts. It was a sight Amanda secretly missed; her mom stopped doing this by the time Amanda was eleven.
John ripped open all of his presents in a matter of what seemed to be seconds: blissful, excited, and screaming with joy. But Amanada seemed to tear open her presents like a snail: slowly - not particularly sad, but numb. Amanada wasn’t screaming and smiling like her brother was. Why wasn’t she? Everyone wondered. Her parents had always thought that Amanda was unhappy because they bought something she didn’t like, or they didn’t get her something she wanted. But that was untrue: she just couldn’t express her emotions as her brother could.
Suddenly, her vision shifted, and she saw all the other years before the present. She reacted the same every year; saying she doesn’t really want anything. The little ghost girl then turned around to Present Amanada and said, “See? See how unhappy you look? Why be like this if you’re not truly happy?” Amanada didn’t answer; it was as if the little girl already knew what she was going to say. As the ghost shook her head, Amanda woke up, in her bed on December 16th, 2023. It was her present year. Nothing happened. She didn’t tell anyone about the little girl or seeing her past.
…
Days later, Amanda went to bed on December 20th and was once again awoken by a ghost. This one was a teenage girl, pale like the last one, only with yellow teeth, and dark brown eyes. Her voice was almost as quiet as whispers. Amanada, less afraid but still nervous, followed the ghost, willingly. The ghost didn’t take her around the neighborhood. Instead, they stayed in her house as the scene around her changed to morning. It was Christmas day, 2023.
She saw herself doing the same old routine as years before. The ghost turned to her and said, “You can change this. All you have to do is tell them the truth: what you think on those sleepless nights, what you think anytime you’re alone.”
Amanada felt her constant anxiety rise at the ghost’s words. “How do I do this?”
The ghost answered with a sigh of grief and said, “It’s really more simple than you think.”
She awoke once more on the 21st, four days before Christmas, and she knew what she had to do.
The night of Christmas Eve, the ghost of Christmas Future arrived at her bedroom door as expected. The figure was horrifying: an almost skeletal adult with dull skin, ribs showing, and dark under eyes, as if she hadn't gotten any sleep in a very long time. The woman took Amanda’s hand slowly and almost shyly.
They traveled through years into the future. Current stores were replaced by new ones, there was new technology she’d never seen before. Amanda and the ghost approached the window of a new brick house, which looked cozy on the inside. She saw herself about forty, with a husband and three kids. Future Amanda looked regretful and anxious, like she had missed out on her childhood.
“Why? Why does she seem so miserable and unhappy?” Amanda asked.
“Because she had wasted what’s supposed to be the easiest years of her life, making them the hardest by trying to be someone she’s not. For the rest of her life, she is full of sorrow and guilt: sorrowful because she’s still the ‘perfect’ daughter, and guilty because she lied about who she was,” the figure explained mournfully.
Amanada hated herself, hated all the stupid decisions she’d made out of fear. “How do I stop this?” she turned to the ghost with fear in her widened eyes.
“The truth will stop it. Once it comes out you will be better”
…
And so that’s exactly what Amanada did on the day of December 25th, 2023, which was her present time. She ran downstairs, and there she saw her mother, father, and brother. “Come to the living room,” Amanda asked. All of them wondered why, but obliged and did so. There, Amanda took in a deep breath and told them everything: what she's been hiding from them, from hating herself, to bottling up her emotions, to feeling numb, and to her anxiety.
Amanda couldn’t help but smile once she finished. She was more relieved than happy, relieved that her future would be changed, relieved that she didn’t have to be perfect anymore. Her family was quiet as they exchanged glances. Her parents asked her brother to leave and go to his room. He reluctantly did so.
Her mom said, “How could you think of these things?" and she started to raise her voice. “You do nothing around the house, and we ask nothing from you,” her mother continued. Even her dad questioned if she was doing this for attention and sympathy. Amanda didn’t want the constant questioning and insulting and complaining. What she wanted, what she needed was a hug. Nothing more; not a hundred dollar presents, but unconditional love from both her parents.
Amanda ran to her room and broke down. “I thought this was going to change the future for the better, not for the worse,” she cried out in agony.
She went to the bathroom and locked the door, watering her face while trying to process what happened. From the bathroom she could hear the faint whispers of her parents complaining about Amanda’s condition. And only then, looking in the mirror, did she notice the bags under her dark brown eyes, and her yellow teeth. And only then did she hear how small her voice was, and only then did she realize that the ghosts weren’t real. They were figments of her imagination, created by her own mind reflecting herself. A reflection of her: Amanda should have known that no one would ever help her but herself…
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