The Witch and the Gods

Night of the Oranges

He observed the girl from a distance. Her choppy bangs hid her sullen dark eyes, yet she looked hopeful as she threw an orange into the river. One of the many thousands that were already floating atop the water. One of the many thousand expectant hearts.

She looked so forlorn in the thrumming crowd. Her baggy clothes stood out amongst swathes of reds and yellows and 'lucky' colours. He wasn't a reader of the heart, but he knew that she was desperate to find a life partner. They all were. Funny, how people still clung onto superstition even though it had failed them time and time again.

Not that he was complaining. Truth be told, he was attending Chap Goh Meh to find a suitable partner too. He'd been doing so for the past decade, but had found no one to his taste.

Until her.

He picked up her orange from the masses. Fortunately, he didn't have to wade into the water to take it; it'd bobbed towards him. Today really must be his lucky day.

He turned the mandarin orange over in his pale fingers, studying it—the dull, lifeless skin seemed to mirror the girl's ungainly appearance. Her phone number had been hastily scrawled onto it, along with her name: Xu Chen. Dawn. He took it as another good sign, that it was a new beginning for both of them.

He slipped past the people, making his way to her, orange in hand. She was already determined to disappear into the darkness. Well, he wouldn't let her go that easily.

He followed her down a beaten road. It was so dark, he wondered how she managed to see, even with the street lights on. "Xu Chen," he called. The effect was instantaneous. She jumped at the mention of her name, wheeling around to face him. For some reason, her scowl—supposedly hostile—made her seem lonelier than ever.

"What do you want?" she snapped. Then her eyes wandered to the fruit he held. Shock washed over her expression.

"I came to return this to you." He held the orange out like an offering. She took it cautiously; he made sure that her fingers didn't brush against his.

She cradled the fruit lovingly, a small smile tinging her lips. "Why me?" she asked.

"Because you were lonely."

They smiled at each other. Then they talked. Of their lives, their purposes, their hopes and dreams. Never mind that he was actually dead. Never mind that his ghost was cursed for eternity, only able to travel about freely once a year, during the fifteenth lunar day. The medium had told him that until he found someone willing to literally die for him and accompany him into the other world, he would remain this way.

For now though, he was content. He refused to think of what might happen after tonight, only hoping that she would return the following year, on the Night of the Oranges. 

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A/N: This flash fiction is based off a traditional Chinese celebration called Chap Goh Meh. On the last day of the Chinese New Year -- also the fifteenth night -- families gather over a grand meal which includes Yuan Xiao (glutinous rice balls) and homes are beautifully lit with red lanterns. At the temples during Chap Goh Mei, people offer prayers to the God of Prosperity to bless their family with good fortune for the coming year.

The tradition of oranges originates from a little island called Penang (go Google it up). Typically, young, unmarried people will throw mandarin oranges into a body of water, in hopes that they will be able to meet their one true love.