The Little Brown Box Read online

Chapter VI

  The next few days passed without incident. Every day was almost the same. Hazel got up, ate breakfast, did work for Mrs. Norwich, ate lunch, did more work for Mrs. Norwich, ate dinner, sat around, and then finally went to sleep. By August 9, Hazel had painted an unused bedroom (as far up as she could reach), swept and mopped all the floors, and dusted the whole house. The only thing that was different was the way Mrs. Norwich treated Hazel. As the days wore on it became clear that Mrs. Norwich had wanted someone to talk to for some time. She didn’t correct Hazel as much, and for the most part left her alone. After dinner she would start a conversation that turned quickly into a mini biography highlighting the good and bad parts of eighty some years. Of the things she learned several key events stuck in her mind.

  Mrs. Norwich had lost her father in 1936, when she was only ten years old. Her mother died eight years later of a disease, leaving her alone in that big house all alone. She married her husband in 1959, and gave birth to Hazel’s mother in 1964. Hazel wanted to learn more, but Mrs. Norwich stopped abruptly at that point, not wanting to go further.

  On that particular night when Hazel’s grandmother told of the birth of her daughter, they were playing Parcheesi. Mrs. Norwich got up in the middle of the game and left the room without a single word. Hazel quietly cleaned up and went upstairs. She now knew that something happened after her mother was born that her grandmother did not want to talk about. She wondered if it had anything to do with the “horrific tragedy” she had read about.

  Hazel went by her grandmother’s room and saw that the door was already closed, despite being only 9:30. She didn’t think much of it and went into her own room. She checked the little brown box for animals and then got onto her bed to look out the window. She couldn’t see anything, but she enjoyed looking into the darkness on occasion. A few minutes later she got ready for bed and pulled out the notebook to write another letter. The first reply came in the mail the day before. Mr. Winbolt commended his daughter’s spirit for sounding so grown up by dealing with her problems instead of complaining. He said that Mrs. Winbolt wasn’t any better, but wasn’t any worse. Hazel liked that her father never sugar coated anything just because she was young. He told her how things were and she told him that she was ready to help.

  Two hours later the notebook dropped to the floor as Hazel turned over, fast asleep. She twitched slightly and woke up. She looked around the room using the little bit of light that the moon provided through the window. The room was still, silent, much like the rest of the house. She closed her eyes again and tried to get back to sleep. Several minutes later she twitched awake once again. She didn’t know how much time had passed and assumed it had been several hours, and tried once again to go to sleep. Before she could a faint tap sounded loud in the quiet room. Her eyes flew open and before she knew it she was sitting up, staring at the little box. Minutes passed and nothing happened. Had she imagined it? Her head slowly went back to her pillow when . . . tap! She jumped up. Something was once again in the box, trying to get out. Hazel thought of helping, but was too scared. Another tap and the lid flew off across the room. This time Hazel pushed herself back, forgetting she was on a bed, and crashed onto the floor. She got up shaking, pointing a threatening finger at the box as if it were a weapon.

  A little tan and brown monkey sat on her nightstand next to the box, looking straight at her. All hope that the little bear was in her imagination fled from her mind. The monkey jumped from the nightstand and ran on all fours to the door. It turned and waited, just as the bear had done. Hazel didn’t know what to do. Follow another mysterious animal? Or should she ignore it and hope it goes away?

  She sat back on the bed. The monkey did not like that and let out a shriek. Hazel rushed over to it. “Shut it!” she whispered forcefully.

  The monkey opened its mouth threateningly. Hazel opened the door and the monkey ran down the hall. She had a feeling that the monkey would lead her outside and did not want to get any more holes in her nightgown. She got dressed and ran after it. Her grandmother’s door was still closed; Hazel hoped she didn’t hear the shriek.

  Downstairs the monkey was waiting by the door. Hazel let it out. It ran out into the darkness, she was close behind. It went straight ahead, and then turned slightly to the right of the path down to town, and ran into the woods. When Hazel caught up the monkey had climbed a tree and was swinging through them, shrieking every now and then so Hazel knew where to go.

  If anything this was more absurd then last time. Following a little bear into the woods made sense because it was such a rare experience. But to do it again with no answers from the first time, that was just crazy. Hazel hoped that the monkey would lead her to answers and not a creepy doll. There had to be some reason why they were coming to lead her into the woods, and Hazel wanted very much to know what that was.

  The moon could barely peek through the foliage of the trees. Hazel couldn’t see where she was going most of the time and tripped over fallen branches and roots. Nothing would keep her from following the monkey. Just like last time she could feel an energy leading her on. The hill descended below her feet. She fell and slid down the muddy ground until a tree stopped her progress. She got up and continued after the shrieks, which were moving steadily more to the right.

  The shrieks stopped. Hazel came out of the woods into a clearing. The town lay ahead. There were a few lights on in the houses. The monkey dropped down and ran around the edge of town. Hazel could see better here and kept up with the little animal. It stopped half way around town. They stood at the edge of a river. There was a small hill covered with grass. The monkey climbed it and stood, staring at Hazel. She approached cautiously, listening as water from the river slapped along the rocks of the bank.

  The little monkey began moving its arms over its head like it was clawing at something. Hazel shook her head, not sure what it wanted her to do.

  “What is it?”

  The monkey continued to wave its arms. It started to shriek.

  “Stop that! You’re going to wake everyone.”

  The monkey only got louder. Desperate, Hazel dropped to her knees on the hill. The monkey stopped.

  “Alright, I guess I’m doing something right. What do you want me to do?”

  The monkey slowly moved its arms in circles, clawing at the ground.

  “You want me to dig?”

  The monkey shrieked, but this time it sounded happy.

  “Yes, yes, alright I’ll dig. But I don’t have any tools.” She admitted.

  The monkey shrieked angrily.

  Hazel dug her hands into the top of the hill. “Stop, I’m digging.”

  The monkey stopped, jumped back, and watched. Hazel dug into the soft ground, lifted fistfuls of dirt and threw them aside. She did this over and over again, finding nothing the deeper she went. She was a good way down when the monkey began to shriek again. It went over to a bit of dirt that Hazel had just thrown aside. Something small glinted in the moonlight.

  Hazel went to it. It was a small coin, the size of a dime. Hazel didn’t think it was a dime because it had a woman’s face on it, with wings on her head. It was made in 1926. The back had several tree branches and a strange looking axe. It read: United States of America One Dime and E Pluribus Unum next to the axe.

  Hazel cleaned it off in the river and went back to the monkey. But it was gone. It left her alone there by the water. She took the trail back to the house. At least the bear had helped her back, and didn’t shriek at her multiple times, and didn’t swing through the trees where she couldn’t see it. Yes, the little bear was much better.

  The house was dark and foreboding when she got back to it. It held so many mysteries within its walls and Hazel found herself feeling strangely excited as well as disturbed. She felt that she was so close to unlocking a mystery held safe for many years, and somehow the doll and dime were a part of it. But it was hers to discover and she was going to try and keep everyone else out of it, especially her grandmother, who might somehow know something. It didn’t make any sense at the time, but she knew that the path would be revealed eventually, hopefully in the month that she was there.

  She took her shoes off at the door and carried them upstairs. Her clothes were covered with mud. She changed back into her nightgown and put her muddy clothes and the dime on the towel, under her bed, next to the doll. Her grandmother hadn’t noticed she was gone.

  Peculiar dreams sometimes follow peculiar days, and Hazel definitely had a peculiar day. She dreamed that she was in a car, looking out of someone else’s body. She knew it had to be someone else’s body because she was driving, and she was much too tall. It was nighttime, and the road was gravel. Occasionally she would look back into the darkness behind her. There were no street lights; the only source of illumination came from the car’s headlights. The car seemed to be going faster and faster. The gravel disappeared. The headlights saw nothing for a second, and then . . . water.