Yet to Come

In the fall of 1983, Warren was beginning his academic journey at the local college in his hometown. He was mostly quiet and shy and kept to himself, but he did have a few friends, not one of which would be attending the same college. Warren hadn’t a clue what discipline to study, but that wasn’t uncommon for most college freshman. He signed up for the most basic courses and those that would fulfill general requirements.

The college was Christian affiliated and therefore a series of religion courses were required. He wasn’t too concerned about the courses since he’d attended church with his family ever since he could remember. He signed up for art literature, swimming, accounting, calculus, religion, and a computer course to round out his schedule.

As Warren began his first semester, he was faced with challenges getting into a routine managing his time, workload, and schedule. He purchased all his books and required supplies – and made sure he could find his way around campus. He wasn’t certain he would fit in and felt he lacked the confidence to contribute to a classroom setting – and in front of complete strangers.

Throughout the semester, Warren had hooked up with couple of other classmates from high school that he hadn’t been friends with but learned that they were attending the same college. He also met a girl, which he believed was a godsend. Things were lining up for Warren, or so he thought but he was also exposed to alcohol and drugs – and it didn’t take long before things turned upside down.

His world began to blur and unravel. Missing class became a regular occurrence and all-night binges seemed to be more and more frequent. He had no mentor and no one to help guide him. He’d turned into a lost soul, and it happened so quickly that he couldn’t see it.

As the semester was winding down into Christmas break, he had mustered up the courage to spend more time in the library to prepare for his finals. It was his last-ditch effort to squeak out half-decent grades. The college had two libraries; one modern building and one original building built in the 1850’s. The latter was a block-stone building with large and heavy wooden doors. The windows were ten feet high and the ceilings inside on the first floor were more than twenty feet high. The main room was grand, and it was littered with tables, chairs, couches, periodicals, and the card catalog system. It smelled old, musty, and looked old.

There was a second and third floor and an apparent attic. There were cubby holes on each floor and areas where desks were sectioned off for privacy. That’s where he preferred to work. It was usually very quiet with few to no interruptions.

On the night before his last final, he made his way to the third floor of the library like many times before and settled into a corner desk. He gazed out the window for several minutes and watched the snow fall through the reflected streetlights. It was eerily quiet as most students were already gone for the semester. Far as he could tell, he was the only one in the library, besides the student employees. The library always closed at eleven o’clock, so he needed to make haste.

He worked through his class notes and reread portions of the course material in the class textbook for the better part of two hours before he took a short break to get a drink from the water fountain in the corridor near the staircase. On his return to his desk, he noticed a small door that he hadn’t noticed before. It was on an inside wall on the opposite side of the staircase corridor and between two bookshelves and it was only about five feet tall. It was made of wood and had iron hinges and an iron handle with a pull-down thumb latch.

As he investigated further, he noticed a faint hint of light emanating from under the door. Curiosity got the best of him, and he attempted to open it. The latch released easily but the door wouldn’t open. He pulled harder and harder until the door flung open causing him to lose his balance and stumble backwards.

Warren sat staring into the opening, mouth agape. He couldn’t move. He saw something that could only be described as an aberration, a ghost – and it spoke. It glowed white. It was a young man dressed as though he’d lived more than one-hundred years ago.

“I’ve been doomed to this place for more than one-hundred years and I can never leave.”

“Um…who are you?” Warren choked out.

“Not important. You came to me so what do you want?”

“I don’t know. I mean, I’m not sure. I mean, I just wondered where the door led.”

“It leads to your future.”

“What? I don’t understand.”

“I can you show you things in your future.”

“How’s that possible? I mean, what? So…you’re like the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come, from that book?”

“A Christmas Carol?” the ghost smiled.

“Yeah, that.”

“Sort of, only I don’t offer redemption.”

“I don’t follow,” Warren asked.

“While I’m willing to help you, I must have something in return,” the ghost said turning its glow to red.

“You’ll show me my future, but for a price. What’s the price?”

“You got it, but I don’t tell you what I want. You agree to see your future and I’ll take something from you in the future. That’s how this works.”

“I can’t see my future first and then decide?”

“No, nice try. What fun is that?”

“Doesn’t seem fair,” Warren said. I’m arguing with a ghost. My god I’m arguing with a ghost – just kick the door shut.

“Oh, it’s fair. I can erase certain things in your future. I show you things now that you will regret then, which then I guess you’ll regret now, but let’s not complicate this. In return, I take something from your future, something good.”

“But you take it sometime in my future and erase parts of my future now?”

“Correct. You in or out?”

“Um…how bad are my regrets?” Warren wondered aloud.

“Can’t tell you, but I’ll show you. Interested?”

Warren couldn’t imagine what his regrets would be. Could it have something to do with my drinking, drugs, and poor grades? What if I really screw up in my future? I can correct it now, but at what cost?

“Hello?” the ghost said growing impatient. “Time is wasting.”

“Okay, okay. Show me,” Warren blurted out. I shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t be doing this. Another bad choice, no doubt.

A small hologram appeared between the ghost and Warren. It was like an old black and white film – flickering and static-like. The frames would jump and fade. There was no turning back as Warren sat still and watched.

The first scene depicted Warren being expelled from college for his drinking. The second depicted Warren struggling with drugs and drinking and the subsequent bad choices over a two-year period, which was a bad period according to the film. There was the gambling, the smoking, the inability to hold a job, the lying, the cheating, the stealing, and the whole lifestyle.

Warren tried to look away multiple times but couldn’t. It seemed the theme of the film was death – he could almost smell it. He didn’t look like himself. Hell, in some sad way it wasn’t him.

Warren cried out, “Stop it, stop.”

“Too late, your fate is sealed.”

Warren put the event behind him and moved on with his life. Thankfully, the part of his future where he marries his girlfriend remained intact. He never wavered on the idea that she was a godsend and he always believed that she’d saved his life. However, he forever struggled with the idea that the ghost would take something from him, but there was no way for him to know when the ghost would follow through or if he’d already done so – and it was the not knowing that scared him the most.