It was a cold morning in late November, and Raúl Gonzales was fast asleep in his bed. But then there was a knock on his bedroom door-
"Raúl, wake up!" shouted Mrs. Gonzales from outside of the room, "It's time to leave!"
Raúl, still half-asleep, replied "Leave? Where are we going?"
"Have you forgotten, son? It's Thanksgiving, and we are going to your grandparents' house in Wyoming! Now get dressed and come downstairs for breakfast, we don't have much time."
"Yeah, yeah . . . ok, whatever, Mom," he replied as he fell back into sleep.
Raúl woke up about an hour and a half later, with a hunger in his stomach. He decided to go get some breakfast (which could actually have been called lunch by that time!), so he headed for the kitchen. "Nobody was home anymore," he thought to himself as he made himself a sandwich. Reaching for the Peanut butter, he saw a small note taped to the cabinet door.
"Raúl, we are very angry with you for not waking up. But if you wanted to stay home and miss out on seeing your loving family and eating your Aunt Claudia's wonderful cooking, then fine, do so. We are not going to make you, your loss. But we are still angry with you. - Mom and Dad"
He shrugged his shoulders and went back into his bedroom, snack in hand.
After eating the sandwich, Raúl decided to call his best friend, to see if he wanted to come over and play his new video game system, the Funtendo 2000! But, no, Jason couldn't leave his house, he had relatives over. Raúl tried his other friends, and found the same thing: with family. He quickly got bored, and wanted something to do . . .
He tried writing a letter to a girl from school whom he fancied but quickly threw the paper away. He tried drawing a comic book about a superhero rapper named Dr. Hip-hop the Hippest Hopper but got discouraged by his lack of drawing skills. The only conclusion he came to was to get back under his sheets and go to sleep for a little bit.
"Raúl Gonzales . . . come with me," said a mysterious voice that spoke to Raúl in his sleep.
Raúl woke up with a jump. "What was that!" he wondered.
As he looked around the dark room (He had closed the curtains before he went back to sleep), he noticed something odd. His clothes-pile seemed to have taken the shape of a human--But then he looked again and found out it was a human! Or at least it looked like a human to him. It spoke:
"Raúl . . . I am the Ghost of Thanksgiving Past."
"Wh-what do you want with me?!" said Raúl, frightened to the bone at what he saw.
"You, Raúl Gonzales . . . You do not understand the meaning-the importance-of the Thanksgiving holiday. I am but one of the three spirits who have been sent to right your wrong and ignorant mind."
"I don't understan-"
"Come with me!"
The ghost walked towards the window and pulled back the curtains, revealing not the Gonzales' backyard, but a forest. A deep, thick forest, centuries younger than any forest Raúl had ever known.
"Come," it beckoned again.
The air was cold in that forest, and Raúl only had a short-sleeve T shirt on. However, he still followed the ghost at a steady pace. He could see a clearing in the distance.
"That is where we are heading, Raúl Gonzales." said the spirit.
"What is that, though?"
"Our destination."
"I know that, but . . . "
"By stepping through your window, you have travelled into the past. It is the first Thanksgiving, Raúl."
" . . . You've got to be kidding me!"
"No."
Raúl could hear voices now, coming from the clearing.
At the large wooden table sat many men, both of English descent and American Indian. They spoke loudly, and were friendly. They spoke of life, love, the pursuit of happiness, and some of them also spoke about their vulnerability to English disease. A good time was being had by all.
Raúl stared fantastically at the scene. Was he really in the past? Was this just a crazy dream? His trail of thoughts was broken abruptly by the ghost, though:
"Come, we must go now!"
"Now, why? This is interesting!"
"No, let us go!" he said as he began heading back the way they came, "Make haste!"
Raúl followed, and before long they were back, deep in the woods.
Moments later, an argument broke out at the Thanksgiving table.
"How dare you! That biscuit was mine! You filthy savage! Give it to me, I deserve it!" shouted one of the Englishmen.
"No, you . . . my biscuit," was the reply from the Native, struggling to use the language.
"Unhand my biscuit! Or I'll-"
"You'll what?" broke in the chief of the tribe.
"I'll . . . Leave our land, at once!"
"You have done great disrespect to my people. This will not be forgotten."
The Indians had left, and the Englishman calmed down after a while. Late in that night, the tribe violently raided and destroyed the colony.
Back at Raúl's home, the Ghost of Thanksgiving Past had left.
"That was bizzarre," he thought, "but didn't that spirit say that there was going to be two others?"
As if he had been listening to Raúl's thoughts, another being entered the room through the floor. It was much larger than the previous ghost, and it was covered from head to toe with twigs from trees. Various types of wood, from poplar to maple to sycamore.
"Are you another ghost?" asked Raúl.
"Yes I am. The Ghost of Thanksgiving Present. I have come to guide you in changing your anti-Thanksgiving ways. Now, come with me."
Wasting no time, the spirit headed towards Raúl's window. Outside was neither the Gonzales backyard or the ancient forest, but a front porch in Wyoming. Raúl and the Spirit headed out the window.
"You know this place, I am sure," spoke the ghost.
"Yes, this is the house I should have gone to today for Thanksgiving. All of my relatives should be inside."
"Correct. Now, let us go in, to see how things are without you. And remember, the people inside cannot see nor hear you. Nothing you can do at the current time will affect them."
They went through the front door, which was shortly thereafter opened again, and a man frantically ran inside and into the dining room.
"Hey, that's my cousin Jesús! I wonder why he's acting so strangely," said Raúl to himself."
"Jesús, what's the matter?!" shouted Raúl's grandmother.
The Ghost of Thanksgiving Present quickly left Raúl's side and returned with fear in his eyes. He tried to get Raúl to leave at once, but Raúl wouldn't pay him any attention.
After Jesús had calmed down, he began to speak, "Juan and Amanda . . . they . . -"
"What? They what!" shouted Grandmother Elisabeth.
"They . . . they were in a terrible accident, and they both died."
Everyone began crying.
Raúl didn't believe what was happening. "No, my parents! They can't be dead! Please, spirit! Tell me this is only a joke!" He looked over at the ghost, who said nothing.
After a few minutes of time, the ghost spoke again. "Come," he said "I'll take you home."
It was Raúl's fault that his parents died. They were so upset by his staying home on Thanksgiving that their emotions were high and their driving became bad.
The Spirit of Thanksgiving Future, who was supposed to come after the Ghost of Thanksgiving Present and show Raúl a glimpse into future Thanksgivings, made sure that Raúl knew that it was his fault.
After that, the Ghost of Thanksgiving Future left Raúl alone and crying, but not before he stole some of the Gonzales' belongings.
//Marshall
