A Christmas Carol: Tim’s Big Adventure
Stave One
Tiny Tim, now Mister Tim Cratchit, accompanied the elderly Ebenezer Scrooge every year to Italy for the winter. They took up residence in a old villa with a crypt dating to the Roman Era.
Though the once tight-fisted old soul had bestowed Tim with health and wealth, the youth had grown bitter as the bone consumption they believed to be cured returned. Once lodged, he rarely left his room except for meals, would not go out with friends of similar age and had ceased his studies in philosophy. He convinced himself his life was over. His pain was large and he resented his mentor’s patronage once saying the skin-flint should have just saved his money.
The old man worried so about his young ward, and called on Jacob Marley’s Ghost for advice.
“Marley, my old friend. I need your help once more,” Scrooge tells the clanking specter.
“Anything for you Ebenezer.” Marley removes his head strap letting his mouth flop open. “If not for you bringing my ghost on holiday, I would have to endure the London winter with all other damned bankers.”
”Can the Spirits of Christmas help Tim? He has lost his will for life.”
”Well can you blame him? However, I shall summon the Yule Phantasms. Expect them to arrive today at four o’clock in the afternoon.”
“Why not one in the morning like last time?”
“Union rules.They are very strict in Italy unless you pay the local capo.” Marley reties his chin and flies, chains and all, out the window.
As good as his word, Marley’s three terrors appeared at the appointed hour.
“Scrooge?” The former miser puts down his water colors and searches in the afternoon glare for the voices.
“Yes.”
“You need another incentive to correct your evil way?” The Christmas Present booms. “You squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous, old—“
”No, no Spirit. It’s not for me.”
Christmas Present bounds into the parlor with Past and Future behind, “It’s not your nephew Fred is it? A bit of an airhead he is.”
“No need to worry about Freddy, he’ll never be corrupted by greed.”
“Formidable young fellow then.” Past approves,
”No. I just won’t let near my money.”
“Oh? Then pray tell, why are we here?” Xmas Present flops into a chair by the drink cart.
“It’s for Tim Cratchit.”
“Who?”
“Tiny Tim.” says Scrooge.
The two speaking Spirits look to their silent brother. Future looks into a large book of life he carries, then shakes his boney face causing a rattle. From his grimace sighs, “Not listed yet.”
”The kid with crutch!”
“Oh, him.” Future double checks his book. “He slated as a possible in next week’s addition. If he needs to relive his life, better hurry.”
End of chapter one
