The Little Brown Box Read online

Chapter V

  Hazel spent most of the morning trying to figure out what she was going to do with the doll and her dirty nightgown. The latter proved to be a more immediate concern. It may not have been cleaning day, but it was laundry day. Hazel brought her clothes to the basement after breakfast, as instructed.

  “Go get your nightgown.” Her grandmother said when she noticed it missing.

  “I don’t think I will.” Hazel said quickly.

  “And why is that?”

  “Well, I mean, it’s not even dirty yet.”

  “Go get it.” Her grandmother insisted.

  “Hazel thought fast. “I’ll get it, but go ahead and start the washer and I’ll just toss it in.”

  Luckily her grandmother agreed to that and a few minutes later Hazel was breathing a huge sigh of relief as she lifted the lid of the washer and put her dirty night gown in. She thought everything was going to be all right until she was called down to the basement a while later.

  “Why are there rips in your nightgown?”

  Hazel was so nervous that she said the first thing that came to her mind. “The bear did it.”

  “What bear?” Mrs. Norwich asked angrily.

  “I mean I accidentally snagged it on the door handle.”

  “Multiple times?” Mrs. Norwich asked as she wiggled a finger through one of the many holes.

  “Yes.” Hazel said uncertainly.

  Mrs. Norwich sighed and began to talk to herself. “Children today have no respect for boundaries or presentable clothing.”

  Hazel took this to mean she was off the hook and ran upstairs, to be met with another, “There is no running in my house!”

  That afternoon Mrs. Norwich insisted that Hazel go for a walk to town with her. When they left the house Hazel was reminded of the grass she had promised to cut.

  “I will as soon as I have access to a lawnmower.” She said. “It’s hard to cut grass without one.”

  Mrs. Norwich clicked her tongue but didn’t say anything.

  It was a hot and sunny day and Hazel wished she had brought her sunglasses. The path down to town twisted and meandered its way through the forest. It was cooler amongst the trees. Hazel kept looking around for the little bear, but was right in figuring that it wouldn’t appear.

  For a moment she wanted to tell her grandmother all about her adventure the night before, but remembered that her grandmother would probably not want to hear about it, and would only get angry if she knew. Hazel missed having someone to talk to. She went on all kinds of adventures with her father, and they would talk about them for days afterward. Hazel wished her parents were there, though if her mother was well enough to travel then Hazel wouldn’t have been sent away in the first place.

  They came out of the forest at the edge of the small old town. Mrs. Norwich led the way between rows of houses with metal roofs and brick walls. Some of the walls had advertisements on them that looked ancient. They all were yellow and had holes all over them. One in particular caught Hazel’s eye. It was of a little girl standing next to a wooden chair. Above her head was a speech bubble. Matthew Norwich furniture is the best there is, no fooling! Hazel had a hard time believing that a little girl about her age would ever say that, but she supposed it was effective advertising.

  Occasionally Mrs. Norwich would greet someone she knew, and the person would smile and say “hello”. Hazel hated greeting people she didn’t know and didn’t say anything. She got many strange looks. Mrs. Norwich wasn’t known to bring guests with her.

  Mrs. Norwich dropped Hazel’s letter off at the post office before going to the market. The market was a rundown little building in the center of town. It sold almost fresh fruit that came in weekly and only one kind of bread. Half of the freezers were broken and were there just to take up space. Hazel had never seen such a small selection of food and began to miss more than just her parents. Mrs. Norwich bought some food and then they were off. Hazel couldn’t believe that all the great food that they had been eating had somehow come from that sorry looking place.

  There was one thing that unnerved Hazel about the town. Every person that she was introduced to would grimace the moment Mrs. Norwich wasn’t looking. They would stare after her like she was the most disgusting thing they had ever seen. Hazel sensed a mystery, and wanted very much to know what her grandmother had done to the people of Swansberry for them to look at her in such a way.

  At the edge of town a small gravel path shot out into the distance. That was the closest thing to a road that they had. Mrs. Norwich said that various governments wanted to build roads, but each time the people of Swansberry wouldn’t allow it. After many legal battles they were left alone. Hazel couldn’t figure why anyone would want to live without the modern conveniences that she had grown up with.

  “We have some.” Mrs. Norwich said when asked about it. “Didn’t you see my washer? Everybody has someone on the outside that can bring them something, even if they don’t openly admit to it. Your father bought me that washer and drier when he married your mother. He hoped it would soften me up.”

  “Did it?” Hazel asked.

  “What do you think?” Mrs. Norwich answered with a rare smile. “Here, let’s go out a bit, I want to show you something.”

  “Out where?”

  Mrs. Norwich pointed down the gravel path. “Out of town.”

  “What’s out there?” Hazel asked, mystified at the possibility of walking into nothingness.

  “Not much, but there is something that you might like.”

  Mrs. Norwich led the way across the gravel, carrying the bags of groceries all the way. Hazel liked the noise the gravel made when she walked across it. There did not appear to be anything in any direction, just fields and gravel. About one hundred yards out Hazel turned and walked backwards, watching the little town get smaller.

  “Here we go.” Mrs. Norwich said several minutes later.

  Hazel turned back around and followed her grandmother off of the gravel road into a field. There were some rocks ahead that looked as if they did not belong there. When they got closer Hazel realized that they were approaching a playground. There were a few old wood swing sets and slides, but everything else was cut into the rocks. There were tunnels and caverns that someone could crawl around in. Hazel was amazed, she had never seen a playground like it and wanted to go and find out where the tunnels led to.

  “My dad took me here all the time. After he died I would run out here and hide from my mother when I got in trouble. She had never been here and so never knew where I was.”

  “What did you do when you hid?” Hazel asked.

  “Mostly wished my father was still around.”

  Hazel thought that was the saddest thing she ever heard.

  “The kids who came here all grew up and stopped coming, and pretty soon everyone forgot about it.”

  “Why is it so far out?” Hazel wondered aloud.

  “No idea, the story goes that the founder of our town built it in the late eighteen hundreds to keep the kids well away from him, but who knows really.”

  Hazel looked at it hungrily, wanting very much to run towards it. She knew that her grandmother disapproved of play and would never let her on it.

  “Well, are you going to play on it or what?”

  Hazel didn’t need telling twice. She went into the first tunnel and crawled around inside until it emptied into a small room with other tunnels branching out from it. She sat in the room for a while, pretending she was trapped in a pyramid in Egypt and Dr. Liontail was somewhere nearby. She could hear his feet dragging along the tunnel and knew he was getting closer. There were four other tunnels to choose from, but which one was safest?

  Hazel threw herself into one and crawled through it excitedly. It curved upwards to another level. An excited squeal escaped her lips and she slapped her hand across her mouth. The faintest breath could he heard from below her. Hazel scurried
up the tunnel. It opened out onto a ledge. She was trapped. Dr. Liontail was close behind. There was no place to run. She turned back and was shocked to see her grandmother climbing out of the tunnel. The breathing had been real.

  “You can crawl fast.” Mrs. Norwich panted.

  “It’s fun.” Hazel fought to catch her breath.

  “I haven’t been out here in so long; I almost forgot I’ve gotten so old.”

  “You’re not old; you’re just not very young.”

  Mrs. Norwich laughed. “That’s an interesting way of putting it. Here, let’s sit for a minute.”

  They took a seat next to the tunnel, with their backs to the hard stone. Swansberry could just barely be seen in the distance.

  Mrs. Norwich looked at her granddaughter kindly. “What are you going to do when you get home?”

  Hazel was surprised to be asked a personal question. “I’ll see my mom, and then I’ll wait for school to start.” She said nervously.

  “Tell me about some of your friends.” Mrs. Norwich asked uncertainly, she was not at all used to asking that sort of thing.

  “There is this one girl I know, Stephanie. I’ve known her for a while now, she’s pretty cool.”

  “Good, it’s always nice to have friends.”

  “Did you have any when you were my age?”

  Mrs. Norwich smiled fondly. “I had all kinds of friends when I was your age. There was a small school building just outside of town. All the kids went there. My house was the talk of the town. My parents were always inviting people to Sunday parties after church.”

  “Where are those people now?” Hazel asked quietly.

  “Most moved away eventually. Many are dead now. News comes every so often of another gone. That’s what happens when you get to be my age.”

  Hazel nodded solemnly. “That’s terrible.”

  “Well enough of this talk, go play some more.”

  Hazel spent the next hour trying to find where every tunnel went. Some connected to others while some only went ten feet and ended. When the sun began to set it was time to go back. Hazel was sweating and tired and incredibly happy. The happiest she had been since she arrived. She skipped up the wooded path when they got back, excited to start putting together clues of a mystery she was certain existed. When asked why she was so happy she said she couldn’t wait until she could write her parents again. She really did want to write her parents, but not about the mystery of Swansberry. That was all hers to deal with.

  Hazel finished her open sandwich in two minutes and rushed upstairs, careful not to run. She had an urge to continue her quest through the castle and fight Dr. Liontail, but she was even more excited to deal with the real world that night. She got dressed for bed and brushed her teeth, and then waited. Her grandmother usually shut her door around ten. Hazel turned off her light and checked for her grandmother to go to bed every few minutes. The said hour came and went, and the door remained open. Hazel grew tired. Her curiosity outweighed her need for sleep. At 11:30 she heard a door close, but it was to the left of her room, not the right where her grandmother’s room was. She opened the door a crack and looked out. Mrs. Norwich came around the corner, she had been crying. Hazel watched as her grandmother wiped her eyes and went into her bedroom and closed the door.

  What happened? Where had she been? Hazel waited twenty more minutes, and then snuck out of her room. The only place suitable to start her search was the attic, it was the only place she had a lead so far. She went left and turned the corner. The old stairs up to the attic were directly in front of her. She stopped at the locked door that she had noticed before. She tried the handle. Still locked. The key hole was so large that she could see a chest of drawers on the far wall. That must be where the biggest clue of all was.

  The attic was dark, but Hazel didn’t dare turn on the light. She remembered which corner had the crate of letters and started there. Since it was so dark she grabbed a few and went down to the bathroom to read them. It was the only room where she felt she could have the light on and not look strange.

  All five letters she picked up were written from Mrs. Norwich to a Chella in West Virginia. The first was dated August 31, 1975. In it Mrs. Norwich talked of getting over a “horrific tragedy” but made no mention as to what it was.

  The next letter was dated August 3, 1984 and mentioned a ten year anniversary of some sort. The events described in the letter must have been common knowledge to Chella because there was no explanation whatsoever. The next three letters were dated between 1984 and 1986, but had no relation to what Hazel wanted to know, that being about the tragedy, the house, or why the people of Swansberry hated her grandmother.

  She went back up to put the letters away and picked up a few more. As she grabbed a new pile she felt one that was thicker than the others. When she picked it up she heard a creak behind her. She slid behind the crate and waited. More creaks followed, they were coming from the stairs. Mrs. Norwich must have been coming up to find Hazel after seeing that her room was empty. They were definitely footsteps coming up, but then they suddenly stopped. Hazel was too scared to move, if she was going to get caught then she was going to hold out as long as possible.

  Time passed and Mrs. Norwich didn’t appear. Hazel peeked around the side of the crate. No one was there. The attic was just as empty and silent as it was before. Hazel crept downstairs, expecting her grandmother to jump out. She didn’t. Her door was still closed. Why would her grandmother go all the way up to the attic just to go back to her room in the middle of the night? Hazel didn’t like that one bit, there was definitely something going on. If it was daytime then she would have investigated, but while she stood there in the hall that night, with shadows and silence, Hazel only felt fear. She went to bed and hid under the covers, watching her door until she finally fell asleep.

  The day dawned gray with a low fog settled around the house and light rain streaking the windows. Hazel sat in bed a long time listening to the rain smack against the metal shutters outside. As she suspected the mysterious creaking did not bother her during the day. She was ready to know what it was and why it occurred twice already.

  She picked up another piece of paper from the nightstand and started another letter.

  Dear Mom and dad, hope you are good. I’ve been hearing weird noizes at night. Is this house hau . . .

  She tore out the page and threw it aside. She did not want to sound scared by telling all about the weird noises. And she definitely was not going to say anything about the little bear. The logical part of her knew that the bear could not have existed, and yet the creepy doll under her bed proved otherwise.

  Hazel spent most of the day doing the chores she had promised to do. After breakfast she mowed the dead grass in the rain. She had never used a lawnmower, and that one did not even have a motor. It was really old. It was harder than she thought it would be. The lawn looked much bigger from behind a lawnmower. After lunch she painted the front door, though she got more paint on herself then on the door. The rain had stopped by that point, though it was replaced by a steamy humidity.

  By dinner time Hazel was thoroughly worn out. She nearly nodded off twice while eating her spaghetti. Once the table was cleared and the dishes were done Mrs. Norwich called her granddaughter back to the dining room.

  “There’s a family album up in the attic in the filing cabinet to the right of the door. How about you go get it.”

  Hazel was instantly suspicious about being sent to the attic. Had Mrs. Norwich known she was up there the night before?

  “Why?” Hazel asked.

  Mrs. Norwich frowned. “Because I thought it would be nice for you to see your relatives.”

  “Oh, right, I’ll go get it.”

  Hazel walked quickly up to the attic and found a large book with old pictures in it. She fought the urge to look in the letter crate and returned downstairs.

 
“Good,” Mrs. Norwich said when she caught sight of the book. “Put it here.” She opened it. “Oh, look, here’s your mother.”

  The picture showed a cute baby chewing on a blanket. Hazel had never seen her mother as a baby. She somehow felt a little closer to her mother.

  Mrs. Norwich flipped through some pages. “Here’s a good one of the house.”

  Hazel stared at the black and white picture. It was clearly the same house, but there was something different about it. It seemed friendlier. The grass was alive, an old car sat out front, and two smiling people stood by the door, one much older than the other.

  “Who are they?”

  “That’s your great-great grandfather, and your great grandfather. That was taken two years before I was born. And here we come to me as a child.”

  Mrs. Norwich sounded at peace while looking through the pictures.

  Hazel looked at the picture of Mrs. Norwich as a baby. A shiver of fear ran through her at the sight. It was an ordinary picture. Her grandmother looked to be about four years old and was standing on a chair wearing a cute little dress. In her arms was the unmistakable face of the doll hazel fished out of the water in the woods. It wore a dress similar to its owner’s.

  “When was this taken?” Hazel asked, her voice shaking.

  “Let’s see, I want to say 1930 or so. My father got me that doll. I took it everywhere.”

  “Do you still have it?” Hazel tried and failed at keeping her voice calm.

  “No.” Mrs. Norwich said quickly.

  Hazel was shown relatives from all parts of the family. She nodded and occasionally said, “oh, really?” but her mind was elsewhere. Why would that doll be in the middle of the woods if she loved it so much? Hazel fought back a bizarre nausea as the book finally came to a close a half hour later. She thanked her grandmother for the trip back through the Norwich family tree and volunteered to put the book back.

  On her way out of the dining room Hazel stopped short. Right in front of her was a large picture of a house in snow. For a moment Hazel was certain that she saw a shadow pass in front of the glass in the frame, as if someone had walked right in front of it. To combat her already growing fear she denied seeing anything and continued on to the attic.