The Ghost of Christmas Past brings their guest to an old home, the entryway all dark wood and antiques, dominated by a wide staircase hung with swags of greenery.
There are a few pictures on the walls, mostly showing a middle-aged white man, dark brown hair and trimmed moustache with a boy who grows into a young man, usually with very closely cropped hair and a moustache of his own. Their looks and coloring are close enough to name them as related, though the man doesn't seem to age throughout. Some pictures show an older black woman as well, hair in various natural styles.
There are a couple of rooms leading off of the entryway. To the left, a fair sized dining room. To the right, a living room with a large tree. The sun coming through the windows means the lights on the tree aren't on, but there are already a number of presents beneath it.
The Ghost smiles, waving a hand. "Christmas in New Orleans. Perhaps a little understated here, but not everybody goes overboard with the decorating. Even when there's somebody new in the family."
The smile fades, though, as the Ghost looks around. "Huh. He should be here somewhere...ah!"
A quick movement, bringing their guest along, the Ghost is able to reveal a young boy at the top of the stairs. Small, skinny, mostly arms and legs in the way of growing boys. With his reddish-brown hair, he'd have blended into any group his own age, were it not for the slightly glowing red-in-black eyes. Eyes that keep looking toward the dining room. Or, more likely, the sounds of cooking and Christmas music coming from beyond that room.
PAST
There are a few pictures on the walls, mostly showing a middle-aged white man, dark brown hair and trimmed moustache with a boy who grows into a young man, usually with very closely cropped hair and a moustache of his own. Their looks and coloring are close enough to name them as related, though the man doesn't seem to age throughout. Some pictures show an older black woman as well, hair in various natural styles.
There are a couple of rooms leading off of the entryway. To the left, a fair sized dining room. To the right, a living room with a large tree. The sun coming through the windows means the lights on the tree aren't on, but there are already a number of presents beneath it.
The Ghost smiles, waving a hand. "Christmas in New Orleans. Perhaps a little understated here, but not everybody goes overboard with the decorating. Even when there's somebody new in the family."
The smile fades, though, as the Ghost looks around. "Huh. He should be here somewhere...ah!"
A quick movement, bringing their guest along, the Ghost is able to reveal a young boy at the top of the stairs. Small, skinny, mostly arms and legs in the way of growing boys. With his reddish-brown hair, he'd have blended into any group his own age, were it not for the slightly glowing red-in-black eyes. Eyes that keep looking toward the dining room. Or, more likely, the sounds of cooking and Christmas music coming from beyond that room.