Winter Oranges by Marie Sexton Read Free Book Online

must be joking.”
    Ben shook his head.
    “You were born in 1840?”
    Ben nodded.
    “But . . .” Jason glanced around, once again sure he was the victim of a prank, but there were no cameras in the room. Outside the window, clouds scuttled across the brazen cornflower sky. Beneath his sweaty palms, the blue upholstery of the couch felt stiff and prickly. A bead of sweat trickled down his side. “Oh my God,” he said, standing up. “I’m losing my mind.”
    Ben rose too, holding his hands out as if to calm Jason, his eyes full of alarm. He was talking again, and Jason didn’t need lip-reading to know Ben was begging him not to go.
    “How?” Jason asked. “How is this possible?”
    Ben pointed to the shelves above the desk. Jason followed his finger, found a music box, a couple of hardbound books that appeared to be Reader’s Digest Condensed titles, an empty glass vase, a snow globe, a heart-shaped box no bigger than the palm of his hand, and several ceramic kittens romping around a miniature ball of yarn.
    “What?” Jason asked. “I don’t understand.”
    Ben crossed the hardwood floor with his cartoon-character steps, waving his hand for Jason to follow. Once they reached the desk, he pointed directly to a single item on the shelf.
    “A snow globe?” Jason asked.
    Ben nodded excitedly.
    Jason examined it. The base looked heavy. It was almost bigger than the globe, and made of silver that had long since tarnished. Inside the globe sat a tiny snow-capped cabin. A couple of poorly formed evergreens stood to each side of it. The entire ornament seemed old, not just due to the tint of the silver, but because the scene inside was so simple, and yet so clumsily done, the trees clunky and cartoonish, the colors dingy and faint.
    Jason glanced again at Ben, who pointed to himself, and then to the globe.
    “This is yours?”
    Ben hesitated. Nodded, but made his strange shrugging gesture at the same time, making his affirmation seem unsure. He frowned, then shook his head in frustration. He pointed again to himself, and to the globe.
    “You haunt the globe?”
    Ben smirked, shaking his head. Pointed more emphatically to the globe and the winter scene it contained.
    “You’re . . .” Jason hardly dared say it. “You’re in the globe?”
    Yes! Ben bounced, clapping his hands, once or twice before settling impatiently, his eyes locked imploringly on Jason as if he expected him to do something. As if waiting for his reaction to such an outlandish claim.
    “You want me to believe,” Jason asked, his voice shaking, “that you’re inside this snow globe?”
    Ben nodded again. Said something that might have been, It’s true.
    “In here?” Jason picked up the globe and shook it hard, incredulous, watching Ben for some kind of reaction. Watching to see if he wavered or shook.
    Nothing.
    Jason kept his eyes on Ben and slowly turned the snow globe upside down in his hand. Little pieces of white fluff floated lazily away from the cabin, toward the glass sky. He shook the globe, swirling the fluff around. “Shouldn’t you be falling on your head or something?”
    Ben laughed, shaking his head, his lips moving in a silent explanation, but Jason had had enough. Whatever this was—haunting, hoax, or horribly strange dream—he wanted no part of it.
    “This is crazy,” he said, dropping the globe onto the desktop with a bit more force than was necessary. “I’m leaving.”
    Ben gestured madly as he followed Jason to the door, his lips moving, his eyes pleading. Jason knew Ben was begging him to stay, but he didn’t care. Jason slammed the door to the guest room on his way out for good measure. When he checked behind him, he was glad to find Ben hadn’t followed.
    He locked the door to the garage and crossed quickly to the house, refusing to look back. Refusing to meet Ben’s eyes.
    He wasn’t sure if ghosts could cry or not.
    He wasn’t all that anxious to find out.

    For a while, it seemed his ploy had worked.