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It had been months since Jason had sent a letter to his old friend Barnabas, and heard nothing from him in return.
He had gone to his other friend, Madame Zarkov, who told him Barnabas would contact him when he was ready to accept Jason was right. But now he was wondering whether that day would come. Barney was as stubborn as a mule most of the time.
‘I know you are worried for Barnabas,’ said Madame Zarkov. ‘But try not to worry.’
Jason clenched his jaw and took his hat off. ‘It’s December 14th. I should’ve had a Christmas card from him by now.’
‘Maybe it is lost in the mail,’ Madam Zarkov suggested as she polished one of her mystical items.
Jason had no idea what it was or what it did. Frankly, he didn’t want to know. He just knew that looking at it filled him with a great sense of unease - more than he was already feeling. ‘I know he trusts my judgement and he trusts yours too -‘
Madame Zarkov chuckled. ‘He trusts nobody’s judgement but his own.’ She turned to Jason. ‘You and I both know he is a stubborn man. You can give him your opinions. But he will not take them to mind. We must wait for him to come to the opinion himself, that drilling on Big Thunder Mountain is bad.’
Jason nodded. ‘Look, Vidalia,’ he said, using Madame Zarkov’s first name, ‘can you… can you see anything bad happening to Barney? The people who work at the mine? Anyone?’
‘Jason Chandler, it’s best you do not know what I have seen,’ said Madame Zarkov. ‘But if he does not stop mining the mountain, he runs the risk of perishing like his former partner -‘
‘Ravenswood,’ Jason finished.
‘Barnabas is a good man. He will come around.’
‘Are you quite sure about that?’
‘No,’ Madame Zarkov admitted. ‘But I’ve seen enough futures to know that no future is completely set in stone.’
‘How comforting,’ said Jason, sarcastically.
‘While you’re here, I have a Christmas present for you,’ said Madame Zarkov.
Jason let out a soft groan. ‘It’s not another misanthropic houseplant, is it?’
‘It is not a plant,’ said Madame Zarkov as she reached down for a parcel wrapped in red wrapping paper.
‘It’s… it’s square,’ said Jason taking it from her. It could be anything. It could be something normal or something, well, weird. ‘Thank you, Vidalia.’
‘I have already seen the future and I know you will open it on Christmas Day,’ said Madame Zarkov.
Jason chuckled weakly. ‘Of course.’
‘Merry Christmas, Jason. Your 1881 will be happier,’ she said.
Jason simply nodded and waved as he left the Museum of the Weird.
Once outside, he opened the parcel, knowing he wasn’t supposed to. It was a music box. And when he cranked the handle, it played The First Nowell.
Madame Zarkov loved weird stuff, but Jason did not. A music box was a much better gift than another misanthropic houseplant.