When Tommy Burned the World Sample

8/6/2019 When Tommy Burned the World Sample

1/15

When Tommy Adams Burned the World

Prologue

By Timothy Nies


2/15

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters and events portrayed in this digital document are either

fictitious or used f ictitiously

-When Tommy Adams burned the world: Prologue-

Copyright 2010 by Timothy Nies

Cover Art:

-Tommy Falling Into Tree-


Illustration

Mr. Fate Stepping Out


All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, of portions thereof, in any form.

Published by Timothy Nies

Official website:

www.majitorium.com

Author's Blog:timothynies.blogspot.com

E-mail:

[email protected]


3/15

Prologue

A Contract Completed


4/15

A well manicured hand

appeared from out of the lone

streetlight on Cumberland Road.

Feeling about, like a burglar trying

to open a front door through the

mail slot, the arm it was attached

to stretched further out of the

darkness and into our world.

Fingertips tapped, searching for a

hold on the grimy surface while

amethyst cufflinks glittered

brightly against a gray silk suit

sleeve. The long, slender digits found their grip, curled, and pulled until a shoulder and

head emerged from the narrow shadow.

Although distorted from passing through the shadow, the man appeared to be pleased.

Stretching his neck out from the shadow peering from left to right; his pearl white teeth

glinting as radiantly as the twinkle caught in his cool blue eyes. Pausing for a moment to

straighten his purple and yellow striped silk tie, he wrapped his right hand around the edge

of the streetlight and began to push. Polished brown leather appeared followed by a spidery

gray trouser leg. The leather quickly resolved itself into a pointed dress shoe as the sole

crunched down on the gritty surface of the concrete sidewalk. With a triumphal lunge, he

pulled the other foot through placing it next to the one already on the curb. The mans left

arm came from the void last, carrying a black leather briefcase. For a moment he stood

stiffly under the light giving the world a chance to notice that he, Mr. Fate, had arrived.

While admiring his surroundings, he straightened the cuff of his left sleeve and removed a


5/15

stray piece of lint from his shoulder. Standing alone in the shadow of the dim streetlight,

Mr. Fate surveyed the houses before him with the demeanor of a tax collector who enjoyed

his job entirely too much.

We have arrived, he announced with a forced cheerfulness. Glancing down at the

thick briefcase in his left hand he continued, and as usual, no parade to welcome us. With

a sigh, he raised his eyes to the gray house before him. Shame, seems to me that a good

parade might be exactly what this neighborhood needs. Liven things up a bit around here.

He shook his head and his immaculately coiffed hair bounced stiffly. Dear me, this may

possibly be the dullest street I have ever seen in my life. Moving to the middle of the

sidewalk he looked down the row of houses, peering from left to right, and sighed. If I

didnt know better, Id say that we had stepped into Victorian England and were visiting

one of those dreary working-class neighborhoods from that movie with the orphan. You

know the one Im talking about, right? He stopped to look at his bag. You know the one?

Based on that book written by Dickens. Whats it called? Mr. Fate paused for a moment,

waiting for a reply. I hate it when things slip my mind. It always feels like its right there,

on the tip of my tongue. But try as I might...

Its called Oliver, you twit, the bag growled. Get on with it.

Mr. Fate smirked at the bag. But of course, master, Mr. Fate replied with a little nod.

Let me just grab my note, and we will be on our way. His right hand flicked into the air

and plucked a yellow square of paper from out of the darkness. Holding it close to his face,

he squinted at it suspiciously. The number 110 was written on it in a heavy, dark hand.

Satisfied, Mr. Fate turned to face the building before him, narrowing his eyes to focus on

the house number next to the door. He then checked the number of the house directly to the

left and pointed. That way. Turning on his heel, he started to walk down the street. 120,

118, 116, he murmured cheerfully as he strolled by the identical dull gray brick homes.


6/15

When he passed 114 he caught sight of a nervous dog, black fur on its back puffed up,

spying on him from the upstairs window. Mr. Fate bared his teeth at it, his canines growing

larger. The dog lowered its head and shuffled back into the shadows of the room. Mr. Fate

walked on, but when the road started to curve to the left, he stopped.

This is, he said, eyes wandering up the stone path that led to the front door, ...it?

Standing at the entrance of the property, he crumpled the yellow note into a ball, and then

threw it over his shoulder. The crumpled ball disappeared with a puff of green smoke

before it hit the street. He stared incredulously at the house for a moment then turned

slowly, looking back at the way he had come. Continuing to turn a full circle, he faced the

house again. How quaint.

The house was a two-story building of gray brick, exactly like all the others on the

street. It had a green tile roof and a twenty-foot square patch of weedy, overgrown grass.

On three sides were red thorny bushes, and the center was dominated by a medium sized

cherry tree in full bloom. Mr. Fate gave the tree a glance and arched his eyebrows. The

white flowers covering the branches quickly wilted and fell to the ground like ash.

Its all so ghastly and trite, he commented, opening his briefcase with a shake of his

wrist. Here, he reached

into it, his arm sinking in

to the shoulder, this

should help. He

produced two green

marbles that began to fill

with orange smoke then

tossed them straight up


7/15

into the air. The twin orbs broke open a couple of feet above his head, allowing thick

orange smoke to spill out and form into two beach ball sized clouds. A pair of large

leathery, webbed, brown wings and a scaly, spiked tail sprouted from each cloud.

You two, guard the house. No one comes in or out until sun rise, Mr. Fate

commanded. The twin clouds emitted shrieks of obedience and flapped their large wings,

wilted blossoms swirled up from the long grass following them towards the roof of the

small house where they vanished.

To business, Mr. Fate announced, walking up the path to the front door. Lets get

this over with quickly. This place looks contagious. Upon reaching the door, he adjusted

his collar. Imagine being infected by this blandness. He rang the doorbell, catching his

reflection in the small window set in the door and admiring himself. A dull me would be a

travesty to the worlds at large, Mr. Fate commented as he smoothed his hand along the

side of his perfectly styled hair. He checked his brown shoes, shining with a fresh layer of

polish. His dark gray pants looked as if they have been pressed just minutes ago. He

straightened his purple and yellow tie a final time and made sure it was tucked firmly

beneath his gray coat. Then smiled at his reflection, his luminescent teeth sparkling keenly

back at him, and winked at himself. All in all, Mr. Fate, you look the business and are

ready to talk the song from a bird.

A voice sounded from within the house, and Mr. Fates smug smile soured. It

disappeared completely when he saw the sandy blonde hair and electric blue eyes of the

man that stepped into the hallway. Slouching as he walked, the man was gently overweight,

but he was smiling.

No, Mr. Fate gasped. His pristine appearance faltering, he looked down at his leather

bag then back up at the man, his lower lip trembled. This cannot be right. It cannot be him.

Not this family, not my family, he whispered. Mr. Fate waved his hand. The man in the


8/15

hallway froze. Mr. Fate gawked at him, his eyes growing wider while his face remained

slack in surprise.

No, he said, I will not. I should not have to do this to them. I was promised that they

would be spared. Mr. Fate brought up his brief case and opened it. Do you hear me?

They were to be spared! Those were the terms of our deal! Mr. Fate looked up at the man

again, and his face started to melt, losing its charm and becoming plainer. His whole

posture changed. The hard edge of his stance softened, and he looked older and frailer.

Please tell me that this is not who I think it is, he pleaded in a raspy voice. The melodic

flow and confident bravado it had moments before was gone.

If you believe this to be your brothers son, then you are right, fateling. It is he,

Richard Adams, The Master said from the depths of the briefcase.

Little Richard, Mr. Fate smiled, all grown up. But why is he here? They were

supposed to stay in The Province! It was the deal I made. How is this possible, master?

Know that we have held to our agreement. Your family was safe and remained so,

while they stayed in sanctuary of The Province. But here, we are on earth, and The

Majitorium never agreed to grant clemency here. It is not our fault that they no longer enjoy

the protection you bargained for. It is of their own will that they strayed so far from safety.

No, Mr. Fate moaned with a painfully strained voice. He studied the man in the

hallway once more. Peter, why? How could you let this happen? A sob escaped.

Now, fateling, there is work to be done. You must continue with what you have agreed

to do, the deep, emotionless voice of The Master commanded.

Mr. Fate sighed, his lush, blonde hair thinning and becoming streaked with gray.

Haven't I done enough? Havent I done all thats been asked of me? Please, just this once,

I beg of you. Do not make me do this, not to them.

Oh! Do not be fooled by the boons I have granted you. The luxury of choice, fateling,


9/15


10/15

standing.

Mr. Fate nodded again, closing the leather briefcase with a flick of his wrist. My

apologies, Master. I dont know what came over me. Waving his hand through the air,

Mr. Fate regained his full composure, all traces of his human-self evaporated, and time

resumed its normal pace.

The man in the hallway moved to open the door, and Mr. Fate put on his best smile. The

young father looked through the window with a warm, joyful grin and opened the door

with an exhausted radiance.

Can I help you? Richard Adams asked.

Good evening, Mr. Adams, honey coated words dripped from Mr. Fates lips. My

name is Mr. Fate, and I have come to talk to you about your son.

My, thats quick; we just got Tommy back from the hospital today.

You named the boy Tommy? Mr. Fates smooth smiled wavered.

Thats right, after his great uncle Thomas. Great man, he was. Mr. Adams pushed his

chest out proudly.

Tommy, such a friendly name. Mr. Fates demonic side took control again.

What can I help you with?

Here is my business card. It will explain everything. Mr. Fate grabbed a card from out

of the air between them and handed it to Mr. Adams, watching as the gleeful expression on

the young fathers face disappeared.

No, Richard growled, taking a step forward. You will not do this. I will not let you

take my son. Tell your masters that they made a mistake. He blocked the doorway with his

body, putting his hands against the frame of the door, his eyes lit up with flames of rage.

Mr. Fates gaze darted down to check the young fathers hands then back to his face.

Stay calm, Mr. Adams, he spoke while twirling his index finger.


11/15

Specks of light filled the air, and Mr. Adams defensive stance softened. A dull sheen

covered his eyes, and all the anger drained from him.

There is no mistake here, Mr. Fate said. If anything, the mistake was yours. You left

the safety of The Province knowing full well that we would come for the boy, Mr. Fates

tone held an edge. He paused to clear his voice. But dont despair Mr. Adams, I have been

sent here to help you prepare, Mr. Fate encouraged in a sweet voice.

Richard Adams looked over his shoulder then back to Mr. Fate. Does it have to be

tonight? he pleaded.

Mr. Fate gave him a forced smile then glanced sideways at his brief case. It must, I am

afraid. Agreements are agreements. These are the rules, Mr. Adams. A deal has to be

completed tonight, and you have until sunrise to negotiate the terms for your son.

You had better come in, then.

Thank you, Mr. Adams, and I am sorry to ruin your evening like this, Mr. Fate said

as he crossed the threshold. It is unfortunate that fate has chosen this for your family.

However, a deal was brokered and it must be honored. Each is expected to play his part.

Such is the way of things. Mr. Fate paused, putting a finger to his nose then lowering it.

Forgive me for asking, but why did you leave The Province? You were safe there. Surely

you knew the risk you were taking by leaving?

I knew. Its just, Mr. Adams said, closing the front door. I was hoping it might have

been overlooked after all this time. We thought that the Majitorium might have given up on

us. That we might have been forgotten. You know since my uncle made sure that the

Majitorium couldnt enter The Province anymore. We figured theyd stop trying and just

give up.

Mr. Fate looked at the floor, his face darkening and his knuckles whitening around the

handle of the briefcase. He nodded his head until he could smile again. I understand, but


12/15

you must have known that deals of this nature are rarely forgotten and by design are

seldom overlooked. You, Mr. Adams, were extremely lucky, as was your brother for that

matter. You had been given a rare second chance to be free, but now... Mr. Fate stabbed a

finger against Richards chest, harder than he meant to. Your son will pay the price of

your stupidity, Mr. Fates voice rose. How stupid you were to think that the Majitorium

would... Stopping mid sentence, Mr. Fate coughed into his hand, breathed, then smiled

again. You do know that there is no way that the Majitorium of Fate will grant the same,

Mr. Fate paused to think of a good word, "leeway they granted you to your son? Closing

his eyes, he took a deep breath. He is ours now.

Mr. Adams exhaled, eerily calm, without a trace of regret or anger about him. I messed

up, he finally said smiling meekly.

Mr. Fates eyes darkened to a deep navy. Yes, Richard, he said through clenched

teeth, you messed up. Any chance your son had at a normal life is gone, and the sacrifice

your uncle made for you is wasted. Mr. Fate closed his eyes and rubbed a hand over his

face. When he opened them, they were a much lighter shade. But its best not to cry over

spilt milk. Whats done is done, he said with a cheerful shrug. Mr. Fate held up his bag

and patted it with his hand. And there is still work to be done here, Mr. Adams. Best we

get to it.

Richard Adams passed by Mr. Fate and grabbed the handle of the door to the living

room. What will become of him?

The boy? Hard to say for sure, but whatever is planned, it has been in the making for

three generations. Very rare contract youre grandfather made, the Majitorium no longer

brokers these kinds of deals. Id go so far as to say that it is the only one of its kind.

Really?

Mr. Adams, no matter what the future holds, know that your son was chosen for a


13/15

reason. He is special. I expect he will do a lot of good for our cause.

Mr. Adams looked at the door as if trying to see through it for a moment then rested his

forehead against the wood.

But rather than speculate his future, Mr. Fate placed a reassuring hand on Richard's

back, we need to determine the details of the transaction. Sunrise will be here sooner than

you expect. Your grandfather might have sold your souls to us Mr. Adams, but he was a

stickler for details. He gave you this opportunity, and he made sure you had the upper hand

tonight. A chance to have some influence on your sons future. Even the spell I cast earlier

is for your benefit, to keep you calm, so that you and your wife can focus.

I wish he had never made that deal. How dare he trade our lives for his own benefit?

Our entire family has been ruined because of him. The man was nothing but pure evil.

True, Mr. Fate agreed. But there is little you can do about that now. He pointed his

briefcase at the door.

How will this negotiation work?

Its very simple, Mr. Adams. Mr. Fate licked his lips, his long, dark tongue peeking

out as it traveled over them. The more you and your wife are willing to give to the

Majitorium, the better the terms of Tommys contract.

Give? Richard repeated, raising his eyebrows. That doesnt sound pleasant.

Oh, it isnt. Its a painful process. One I suspect neither of you will survive.

Then why not just kill us now and be done with it? Richard demanded, fire returning

to his eyes.

Mr. Fate held up his finger and twirled again. No need to get so upset Mr. Adams.

You have much more to offer us than just your pathetic lives. Now, shall we begin?

Dont have much choice in the matter, do I? Mr. Adams muttered, opening the door to

let Mr. Fate into the living room.


14/15

Lisa Adams was sitting on a beige colored sofa with a baby in her arms. Red hair fell

back from her fair face when she looked up. Mr. Fate ignored her, looking at the child. His

eyes glittered red and a broad smile grew on his face.

Richard, whats going on? Who is this man? she asked with a hint of panic, grasping

Tommy closer to her body.

Hush, now, my dear, Mr. Fate said, twirling his finger to release more of the relaxing

magical dust, all will be well.

Lisas green eyes grew as calm as Richards.

Thats better. Mr. Fate opened his leather bag and pulled out a pair of tiny golden

shackles, offering them to her. If you would be so kind as to attach these to the babys

wrists.

Lisa took the shackles and

fastened them around her child. They

hummed as they activated then

vanished from sight. Tommy

immediately began to cry.

Dont cry, Tommy, Mr. Fate

purred, his voice and eyes growing

darker. This is just the beginning,

and you wont last long with that

attitude.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


15/15

To find out what happens to young Tommy Adams next look for:

"When Tommy Adams Burned the World: Part 1"

Kindle edition available on amazon.com

First week of July

Follow Tommy Adams on twitter: @majitorium for the latestupdates or visit www.majitorium.com to learn more

Documents

When Tommy Burned the World Sample