

The Little Brown Box

By A.S. Morrison

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2013 A.S. Morrison

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of Contents

Chapter I

Chapter II

Chapter III

Chapter IV

Chapter V

Chapter VI

Chapter VII

Chapter VIII

Chapter IX

Chapter X

Chapter XI

Chapter XII

Chapter XIII

Chapter XIV

Chapter XV

Chapter XVI

# Chapter I

The Town of Swansberry was a small and secluded place far away from any major city or roadway, and the residents wouldn't want it any other way. They kept to themselves, rarely leaving town for any reason at all. Occasionally merchants came by, but they were sent away quickly. The people of Swansberry didn't want those neat gadgets that were used in the cities; they only wanted to be left alone. It really was a town stuck in the past.

To the west of town was a small river, to the south a path that led to the nearest major roadway thirty miles away. The north and east sides of town were covered by a dense forest with a winding trail big enough for a car. The trail twisted and climbed up a steep hill.

If there was anything that the people of Swansberry agreed to more than solitude, it was that nothing good was to ever come from where the trail led to. Beyond the forest, at the top of the hill a large house stood, known as the Swansberry Hill House. Nobody knew the exact age, but it had been there longer than anybody alive could remember. It stood dark and foreboding, casting immediate doubts in the mind of anyone who dared get a close look. The owner of the house, a strong and stately woman, frequently came down to town. She seemed nice enough, but her reputation preceded her. It was said that she cast away her own daughter as a child after killing her husband. No one could verify this, but who would want to get that close to the situation? Certainly nobody from town.

It wasn't always like that. The oldest residents of Swansberry could still remember being told stories by their parents about the friendly family that once lived in the old house on the hill. How parties were held monthly and everyone was invited at all times. Those same old-timers could only guess at what happened in that house years ago, when the current owner was only a child.

Two hundred miles away in a big city a young girl sat under her covers, watching an old clock that sat on her dresser. Its intricate designs and careful coloring would make anyone notice. It was a shame that it broke years before. The little girl's mother gave her that clock, and she made the same wish on it every night. That her mother would get better. A loud cough echoed through the dark house. She wished even harder.

Her door opened and a tall stressed looking man came in. He crossed to the bed and sat down, attempting a smile. The girl had never seen her father another way, he always looked like that. He still had his nametag on. Mr. Winbolt it read.

"Good night my dearest Hazel." He leaned in close and kissed her forehead.

"Good night, daddy. How's mom?"

He frowned, not even he could find a way to smile about that. "She's struggling."

Hazel nodded, trying to remain strong.

He stroked her head. "But you know what? It came on so fast, maybe it will go away just as quickly."

"I hope so." Said Hazel.

Mr. Winbolt shifted uneasily. "I have something to tell you, Hazel."

She didn't like the sound of that. When her father said something like that it never meant anything good.

"Your mother has been getting worse, and I know you have been helping, but I want you to enjoy the last month of summer."

What did that mean? Hazel tried to see past her father's hints.

"I want to help – I like to help."

"I know you do. But . . . the doctor came by today."

Hazel's heart sank. The doctor often came by and her father never talked like he was talking then.

"He said that your mother's condition, well he doesn't know what it is."

"I can help, I have helped."

"Yes you have. The problem is that the doctor did not recognize what she has, and that's not good."

Hazel said what she often said when a new problem arose. "So what are we going to do?"

Mr. Winbolt smiled. "I love that you want to help so much. You are the smartest ten year old I have ever seen." He became stern. "I want you out of the house for a while, and your grandmother said she would like to take you."

Hazel couldn't believe it. Her grandmother? It would have to be her mother's mother since her other grandmother was dead, but she had never met her.

"What?" Hazel said in disbelief.

Her father put his hands up in defense. "I need you to be strong about this, like you always are."

"I can help here, and besides, I've never even met her."

"I know, but it's the only place that we can send you. It would be best for all of us. Your grandmother needs someone out there to help her out; she's getting up there in age."

"So this is for her?"

"It's for both of you. When you go out there then you can run and play and be carefree like a ten year old is supposed to be in the weeks before school."

She didn't get it; she could run and be free at home. There must have been something else going on. "But I –"

Mr. Winbolt stopped her. "You are going to go, I'm sorry."

He kissed his daughter good night and left the room, turning off the light as he went. Hazel sat in the darkness, thinking about how unfair it all was. She could think of plenty of things she would rather be doing in August then spending it with her grandmother she knew nothing about. She threw herself back on her pillow and tried to get to sleep. Her mother's coughs kept her up most of the night.

Chapter II

Hazel woke early and went downstairs, determined to change her father's mind. She passed the spare bedroom that her mother had taken residence in since becoming sick. She could hear the heavy breathing through the door. Usually the door was kept open; it was closed on this particular morning, her father must have been in there.

Hazel continued on and poured herself some cereal. While she ate she watched the neighbors through the window. Mr. and Mrs. Lewis were always in their yard across the street tending to their flowers. She liked to watch them; she could forget about whatever was on her mind and concentrate on other people's lives.

Mr. Winbolt came downstairs looking exhausted. It was another rough night. He poured himself some cereal; almost falling asleep in it.

"I am prepared to fight to stay here." Hazel announced proudly.

"What?" He hadn't heard any of it.

"I don't want to go, dad."

"Neither do I." he admitted.

"Then why do you want me to go?"

He sighed. "Your grandmother wants you to be there. She is getting up there and needs the help. I have to admit it is strange that she has a sudden interest in you. I promise that you will have a good time."

"How am I supposed to enjoy myself with someone I don't even know?"

"Just give it a chance, Haze."

She knew it would be easier for everyone if she was gone, but she still didn't want to go. Hazel spent the next few days trying anything she could think of to stay. Telling her father that she had to study up for the school year didn't work. Neither did telling him that there were mandatory school sessions in August. After all her hard work she still found herself packing clothes one night to take with her.

Hazel's grandmother said in a letter that she would not allow any toys or anything else fun in her house; destroying the idea that Hazel was going to have a good time. So instead she just packed clothes and other essentials. Her father came in while she was packing. She glared at him.

"How are you?" He asked.

Hazel wondered how she was supposed to respond to that. Obviously she wasn't doing too well. "I'm fine." She said.

"Look, I'm sorry about this. Look at this as an adventure. You are going to go to a big house where you can explore and pretend. It'll be great."

She was tired of hearing how great it was going to be. "Alright."

"I'm sorry about your grandmother's rule against toys. She never was one to be predictable."

"Fine." She was hoping the short answers would get him to leave faster.

He took the hint and left her alone. She finished packing her clothes and looked around for what else she could bring. Her dolls were off limits, so were her video games. There was some yarn and a crochet hook on her night stand. Her mother tried to teach her how to crochet before she became sick. Hazel rolled up the yarn and stuck the hook in it, but there was no more room in her suitcase for anything. There weren't any bags or boxes lying around that she could use but she knew where to get one.

Seconds later Hazel tiptoed into her mother's room, trying not to wake her. She lay on the bed, her face screwed up in a grimace as she slept. The closet in that room had all of the extra clothes and old boxes that were mostly forgotten about. Hazel looked for the right box, but all the ones she found were too big. She looked up and saw that there were some things on the shelf above her head. She climbed on a large box and peeked over the edge of the shelf.

There was a small brown box made of plywood in the corner behind an old Parcheesi board. Hazel brought it down. It showed signs of age and smelled really old. It was the type of thing that went unnoticed until someone cleaning stumbled upon it. She figured it was so old and worn that nobody would miss it. It was the perfect size for her yarn.

Back in her room she finished packing and took her suitcase downstairs and set it by the door, placing the box on top. She then went around to each room and said goodbye to it. She was sad to be away from home for the first time without her parents. She was already counting down the days until August 30 when she would be back. The hardest part was to say goodbye to her mother. Hazel snuck back into the guest bedroom and sat on the bed.

Mrs. Winbolt was fast asleep. Hazel took her hand and said goodbye. Her mother woke and smiled at the sight of her daughter.

"Have fun." Her mother said. "Your grandmother may seem mean at first, but trust me, she's really nice."

"But I want to stay here with you." Hazel said, a tear coming to her eye.

"I'll be fine. You'll like her house; it's bigger than this one. It's surrounded by a forest that you can explore. I promise that it will be great and you will be back before you know it." She smiled and gently pushed on her daughters back.

"How will I find out how you are? I heard she doesn't even have a phone."

"You can write us. I promise that if anything happens your father will be out there to get you as fast as he can." Mrs. Winbolt reassured her daughter.

"I still don't like that I have to go. I promise that I can help here."

"We know you can, honey, but I think that it would be best if you weren't here while the doctors try to figure out what is wrong. Your father is going to have to work a lot of overtimes to pay for my medical bills. It's a good thing doctors around here make house calls. It would cost a lot more if I had to stay in the hospital."

Hazel nodded; she didn't have anything else to say. She hugged her mother and told her she loved her, and then she left the room.

Hazel sat motionless in the car, resisting the urge to dance to the songs on the radio the way she usually did on trips. Mr. Winbolt attempted several times to start a conversation, each failing like the one before.

The car drove past suburbs, and then out into back roads and small towns. Soon there was nothing in sight but fields and forests. Hazel thought they had left civilization behind. There wasn't even an interstate to where they were going. The minutes ticked by and she wished she had asked how long it was going to take. The radio sputtered out after three hours. Finally Hazel couldn't stand the silence.

"How far is it?"

"Not too much farther." Her father said. He was happy his daughter was finally talking to him again.

"Any chance you've forgotten the way?" She asked hopefully.

"Nope. I've only been out here twice, but it's not a route to forget."

"Why haven't I ever met her?" Hazel blurted out.

Mr. Winbolt's hands tightened around the steering wheel. "Your grandmother and your mother have a complicated relationship."

"All I know is that they don't like each other." Hazel never understood that side of her family or how any family could not like each other.

Her father sighed. "I don't know much more than you. Something happened after your mother's father died. And for some reason your grandmother sent your mother to live with other relatives."

Hazel knew that her grandfather died, but she never knew that her mother had to live with relatives. The death must have really saddened her grandmother. "What happened to him?"

"Well, no one knows, not even your mother. He was there one day and the next he was gone. Your mother was very young."

The conversation dropped there. The car entered a small town. The houses were all very old, with metal roofs and wooden shutters. The inhabitants watched the car go by. Hazel thought she saw a few glare at it. None of the roads were paved. Havel was aware of the age of the place, and thought it looked straight out of a movie. But instead of the prim and polished people one would expect in a movie, everyone looked haggard and dirty. They passed through the town quickly, bumping along the gravel. The car swung up onto a path through a forest. It was very narrow, the car jolted over branches and tree roots. A minute later they arrived in a clearing, a large house stood in the center.

There was something about the house's brick exterior and black shudders that Hazel wasn't comfortable with. Or maybe it was the dead grass and large shadows that were cast on the walls that didn't appear to come from anything at all. Or perhaps it was none of those things and the feeling of uneasiness was something deeper that could not be seen. She shook it off and attributed it to nerves.

A woman came out of the house and stood by the door, arms crossed. Her white hair was pulled back in a bun and she frowned as if seeing the car pull up ruined her day. Hazel waited for her dad to get out first; she got her suitcase and followed up the walk. She decided to listen to her parents and see the next month as an adventure. It was hard to muster, but she smiled.

"Nice to see you Annabella." Mr. Winbolt said.

This was met with a grunt. The woman, who appeared to be in her early eighties, looked at Hazel.

"You will address me as Mrs. Norwich and that is all."

Hazel shrugged. "Alright."

Mrs. Norwich made a small noise that sounded almost like a growl. "Not 'alright'. You will address me properly and will not shrug . . . ever."

Hazel shrugged again. "Alright." She was determined to not let her grandmother control her while she was there.

Mrs. Norwich looked to Mr. Winbolt, disgusted. "I hope this will be sorted out before you leave." She went inside.

He turned to his daughter. "What are you doing?"

"I don't want her to tell me what to do." Hazel said.

"If you're going to stay here then you need to do as she says."

"Then maybe I shouldn't stay here."

Mr. Winbolt disregarded this with a wave of his hand. "Just behave." He took the suitcase and went inside. Hazel held the little box.

The inside of the house was even drearier than the outside, though it appeared to be friendlier. The dreariness came from the overall feeling more than the actual appearance. They were in a large living room with old wooden furniture. All the furniture said Norwich on it somewhere. Mrs. Norwich must have been paranoid to put her name on everything. A staircase to the left led upstairs, it was covered in a dark red carpet. A kitchen was beyond the living room, and a hallway led off each side with doors that led to many rooms that Hazel was told not to go into. Mrs. Norwich told them to take the suitcase upstairs and put it in the smallest bedroom. All the others were much too big for a child of her size, she insisted.

The smallest bedroom wasn't so bad. It had a hard wood bed, a small nightstand, and nothing else. Hazel liked the simplicity of it, or at least she told herself she did. She was determined to like everything in the house, even if she did not like her grandmother so far. Outside the room she explored the second floor. There was a long hallway around the corner that led to more stairs and the attic. There were six bedrooms in all, though one had a 'keep out' sign on it.

Back on the first floor Hazel heard the others talking in the kitchen. She wanted to hear what they were saying without going in, but they had the door closed. She was forced to go in to hear it. The kitchen was smaller than she'd expected. The floor was yellow laminate and the style of the stove and refrigerator made her think that it was last renovated in the 1970's. She sat at a small table and listened in.

"How is she?" Mrs. Norwich asked of Hazel's mother.

"Mr. Winbolt looked nervously at Hazel. "She's struggling."

"It's a shame; she was always a healthy little girl. Does anybody know what's wrong?"

He shook his head. "They're stumped."

"That's the trouble with medicine today. There are thousands of diseases and every little thing wrong makes you think you have all of them. They probably can't sort it out."

Hazel did not like her grandmother's voice. It droned on monotonously without any change in pitch.

"I'm sure they'll figure it out." Mr. Winbolt said, seeing how Hazel was glaring at the wall.

Mrs. Norwich turned to Hazel. "Now if you're going to stay here you need to straighten up when sitting. Your mother had the same problem."

Hazel straightened up, her frown growing ever more unpleasant.

"Now I suspect that you brought clothes in that suitcase." Her grandmother continued. "And made sure not to bring any toys. Those things make children refuse to grow up; I've seen it happen before."

Hazel knew she was talking about her mother, and had to refrain from retaliating. If she was to make this work she would have to watch her mouth. She did not want to know if Mrs. Norwich could get any worse.

"There are no toys." Mr. Winbolt assured her.

"I did bring my crocheting, is that alright?" Hazel asked in a mockingly sweet way.

Mrs. Norwich did not catch the sarcasm. "Yes that is fine. Crocheting is a skill."

The day passed by too fast. Hazel's father helped with various chores around the house. He cleaned out the rain gutter, cut some hedges, painted a door, and fixed the mailbox down by the forest (no postman would come closer). Hazel spent the day helping him, wanting his protection from her grandmother. But before too long it was time for him to go. She begged to come along but he assured her that staying there would be good for her. Before she knew it she was waving as he drove away through the forest.

Hazel went to her tiny room and prepared for a night of crocheting. She figured she would spend every morning avoiding her grandmother out in the yard or the forest, and then spend every night in her room crocheting. By the end of August she would probably have several blankets and other assorted bags, as long as she could find more yarn. That idea proved impossible when Mrs. Norwich demanded she come down and eat dinner at the table like a civilized person.

She slumped down the stairs and sat at the little table in the kitchen, only to be told that dinner would be in the dining room and not at the breakfast table. The dining room was off to the side of the kitchen and was a lot bigger than Hazel expected. A long table sat in the center of the room with five chairs on either side and one on each end. The walls were covered with book shelves holding anything from plates with etches of far off places to decorative bells from cities all over the country. A flower patterned table cloth was on the table and the silverware looked old and ornate. Mrs. Norwich sat at the far end.

"Well sit down." She barked, seeing Hazel's shocked expression.

"Are you expecting more people?" Hazel asked.

"Sit down."

Hazel sat at the other end, was ordered to come closer, and instead sat half way down the table. She thought it best to sit out of arms reach of Mrs. Norwich, just in case.

There were several large bowls of food set out. One had roasted chicken, another salad, and the last had rolls. Hazel helped herself to the chicken, was told to take salad, and in her frustration piled as much salad as she could onto her plate until it was several inches high and the bowl was almost empty. This was met with a, "At least you'll be healthy". What made things worse was her grandmother nitpicking at everything she did.

"That is not the proper way to hold a fork; it goes to your mouth in your right hand."

"But I'm left handed."

"Another thing your mother refused to stamp out."

"Where did you get all those plates and things?" Hazel asked, attempting to make a better impression.

"My husband traveled when he was young and collected them."

"That's neat."

"Eat your food." Mrs. Norwich barked.

Hazel concentrated on the food, which was very good, and hoped that would occupy her mind. Dinner passed quietly after that. She ran upstairs at her first opportunity after washing dishes. Her running was met with a, "There is no running in my house!"

Her tiny room seemed cozy and safe now, though the whole house still had an uneasy feel to it. She sat on her bed and looked out the window at the trees growing darker as the sun set behind them. She pulled out her crocheting when she couldn't see anything more out the window, but didn't feel like doing anything with it once it was out. She put it away and got ready for bed in the bathroom down the hall. It was small and old with green walls and a green floor. The tub had feet and was stained after years of use. She got dressed, brushed her teeth, and was out of there, determined to find a new less creepy bathroom the next day.

The blankets on her bed were old, worn, and dusty like everything else in the house. She got under the covers and was met with the smell of mold and age. She threw the blankets off her; it was too warm in her room anyway. Sleep eluded her for several hours. She got up occasionally just to make sure nobody was there; she had the strangest feeling that somebody was watching her. At about one o'clock she heard a faint creak outside her door. There was no doubt it was her grandmother checking to make sure she was asleep. She turned over and faced the wall. A few minutes later she finally fell asleep. Her last thoughts before slipping unconscious were about how strange the house was. She hoped it would be friendlier to her in the morning.

# Chapter III

Hazel woke with a start the next morning. She had had the most peculiar dream. All she remembered was that a man was sitting on the end of her bed. It wasn't her father, or anyone she had ever seen before. After she had awoken she couldn't remember his face very clearly and probably wouldn't recognize him even if she had bumped right into him that day. She wondered who he could be. He didn't say anything, he just looked at her.

Breakfast was served at the breakfast table in the kitchen. Mrs. Norwich made bacon and eggs. To Hazel's surprise they were very good. She now knew to expect good food from her grandmother. Mrs. Norwich planned out the whole day for herself. She was to first read in her room, then have lunch at the dinner table, read in the living room, go for a walk down to town, have dinner, and then read in her room again. There was nothing for Hazel to do, though she was invited to join her on the walk.

Hazel was glad not to be included, she was happy to have her whole day to herself. Her schedule would be to crochet in her room between meals, and then explore the house while Mrs. Norwich was on her walk. After breakfast she went back to her room and started.

It was quiet for the next few hours as both occupants of the Swansberry Hill House kept to themselves. Hazel started on a blanket. She had practiced for two years but still had trouble. Her mother made things all year and their house was full of blankets and pillowcases that she crocheted. After a while Hazel put her future blanket on her nightstand, bored out of her mind. She tried to fascinate herself by staring at the walls and looking for patterns in the bumps and dried paint strokes. It didn't last long; luckily she was called down to lunch before too much more time went by.

Several turkey sandwiches lay on the table. Hazel helped herself to some. Mrs. Norwich invited her to walk down to Swansberry with her, but she declined. She watched her grandmother leave and went straight upstairs to look into all the rooms she had been told to stay out of. She wanted to go on an adventure; the idea swam around in her head since her father said it to her. And now it sounded fun. What better place was there to have an adventure then a big old house? It would be great; she would pretend to be on a journey looking for lost treasure.

There was nothing of interest in any of the rooms down her hallway. Two were extra bedrooms, not much bigger than hers. There was nothing in any of the drawers or closets. She turned the corner and at the end of the next hall, to the right of the stairs leading to the attic, was a door that grabbed her attention. It had a sign on it that read: M.N. Who was M.N.? Hazel guessed that the 'N' stood for Norwich, but could not guess what the 'M' might mean. She tried the handle. Locked. The key hole was large and looked to take an old fashioned skeleton key. Whatever was in that room must have been a secret. She made a note to look out for a key.

She climbed the stairs to the attic and found herself in a long room with a low hanging pointed ceiling. Piles of old junk and forgotten filing cabinets filled most of the space. A few desks stood in a corner and a large crate was alone in another corner. The crate was filled with old envelopes. Some were addressed to the house she was in; others were addressed to some town in West Virginia. She wanted to read them, but didn't think that she had time.

There was nothing else of note up there. Hazel made her way down to the first floor where she found a room with book shelves in it. All of the books were old and most of them had been worn. One in particular that caught her eye looked slightly newer and had animal pictures in it from a zoo somewhere. Hazel liked animals and made sure to look at as many of the pictures as she could. She put the book back as carefully as possible so it wouldn't look like anybody had touched it, and continued on.

The rest of the first floor did not interest her until stairs to the basement were found behind a door in the hall. She went down. The basement also had a low hanging ceiling. A washer and dryer were down there. They did not look very old and stood out as the only true modern appliances in the whole house. Hazel found the basement to not be as interesting as the attic, though it definitely felt creepier. There was something about being underground that Hazel didn't like. She went back up to her room, making it in at the exact moment that the front door opened on the first floor. She spent the next hour staring at the walls until she was called down to dinner. The treasure hunting would have to wait till later.

She took the same seat as before and piled her plate with mashed potatoes and turkey, fresh from town. They ate quietly. As dinner wore on Hazel tried to work up enough courage to ask about the room behind the locked door. She finally thought it too personal and stopped worrying about it. Instead she tried something else.

"How old is this house?" She asked.

Mrs. Norwich looked around as if she wasn't sure where the sound came from. "Built in 1896."

Hazel whistled. "That's old."

"My father was born here."

"How long did he live here?"

Mrs. Norwich shook her head. "Sit up, you look like a slouch."

"Sorry." Hazel said quickly, straightening up. She was going to have to play nice if she wanted to get any information. "How long have you lived here?"

"My whole life."

"Haven't you ever wanted to get away and see the world?"

Mrs. Norwich frowned at the far wall, as if seeing a bug crawling up it. "I've seen enough."

"I don't want to stop exploring until I've seen it all, every last bit of it."

"I would think that there are some parts you wouldn't want to see."

Hazel was shocked. She wanted to see the whole world and wasn't going to be denied access to any of it. "I don't think so. Do you ever explore these woods?"

Mrs. Norwich dropped her silverware onto her plate with a clank. "I should say woods are a very poor place to explore. There is nothing but wild animals and dirt. Now eat your food before it gets cold."

Hazel filled her mouth with turkey. She found two subjects that her grandmother was not comfortable with: her great grandfather and the woods. She wondered if they had any connection. She knew there was one more subject that she would probably not want to talk about, but Hazel brought it up anyway because she did really want to know about it.

"How come you don't like toys?"

Mrs. Norwich looked at Hazel for the first time that night. A grimace put even more wrinkles on her old face. "Toys rot the mind of young children, keeping them from realizing their true potential at other, more important endeavors."

"Such as?" Hazel pushed on.

Mrs. Norwich picked up her knife and looked dangerous holding it. "Such as learning skills."

"Toys can teach skills." Hazel knew that she was going too far, but she was only becoming more interested in her grandmother's hatred of toys.

Mrs. Norwich scoffed. "Hardly."

Hazel nodded and did not pick up the topic again. She presumed there was some reason from her grandmother's past that made her the way she was. That mystery might never be solved.

"Do you have any paper?" Asked Hazel politely.

"For what?"

"I want to write my parents a letter."

"Want to go back already?"

Hazel fought back a, "Ya think!" and simply said. "No, I want to see how my mother is doing."

"There's some in the drawer in the kitchen."

Who puts paper in a kitchen drawer? It was strange but Hazel went and got some after dinner, found a pencil, and went up to her room with it. She didn't know what to write about, and didn't want to seem too worried, so she put it away and hoped an idea would come to her.

Hazel got into her pajamas early and went to bed. She was tired before she got ready, but was wide awake by the time she got under the covers. She pulled out her crocheting again and tried to work on her blanket, but again didn't feel like it. She sat and stared at the dark ceiling, hoping that she would grow tired.

There was another creak from the hall right outside her door. The hallway light was still on and Hazel sat up, hoping to catch her grandmothers shadow pass under the door. The noise continued, but there was no shadow. Hazel found this strange, but thought little of it at the time. She fell back onto her pillow and finally went to sleep.

She had another dream. This time she was sitting up in bed and a little black bear, only three inches tall, was staring back at her from the floor by the door. They looked at each other for a long time. Then finally the bear disappeared. It was a strange dream, but not as strange as the one where a man was sitting on her bed. It was the first time ever that her dreams took place in the room she slept in, and the first time that she had two dreams in a row about the same place. But, like most strange things, she thought nothing of it at the time.

# Chapter IV

The next day was really boring. Hazel went down for breakfast, and before she knew it, it was lunch time, and pretty soon dinner was ready. She was very tired when she got up, as if she only slept for a little while. After breakfast she took a nap, but it didn't seem to do anything so she took another after lunch. It didn't matter to her that the day was wasted by sleeping; she still wanted to get home as fast as possible and was happiest knowing that she could waste a whole day. She decided that she would have to take a nap every day and only look for adventure when her grandmother was on one of her walks.

During dinner Hazel yawned a few too many times for her grandmother's liking.

"Young ladies do not yawn at the dinner table. One would think you actually did something today." Said her grandmother.

"I did do something today, I slept."

"It's about time you were of some use around here. I wanted you to come up here to help me with some things."

"I thought dad already did." Hazel said, remembering her father cleaning the rain gutter and cutting hedges.

"I mean things that you can help me with while you're here. Things that take several days. I need you to cut the grass and help me take some things down to town that I need to get rid of. When I think of more you can help with that too."

"The grass is almost all dead." Hazel said.

"But I still want it cut. Besides you have not been out of this house since you got here, that's not healthy for a child of your age. You need to be out. Try crocheting out back."

Hazel looked at her grandmother in disbelief. "Crocheting outside? If I'm going outside I want to run around or explore."

"I told you there's nothing to explore."

"Maybe I could explore the town." Hazel suggested.

Mrs. Norwich shook her head. "I do not want you down there alone. Perhaps tomorrow after you cut the grass you can go with me on my walk if you want to go to town. You can help me carry some things."

"Alright," Hazel agreed, "I'll go with you. I'm anxious to see what the town is like."

"It's a queer old place, they may not like you."

"Then I may not like them."

That night Hazel sat on her bed, writing to her parents.

. . . I wanted to tell you that I am having a great time. She wrote. She had decided that she wanted her parents to think that she was having the time of her life. They already had enough to worry about. Mrs. Norwich is going to take me to town tomorrow. You know, she is a very good cook. This house is so big and neat. I havent even explored all of it yet. Rite back soon!

Hazel tore the page out of the notebook and set it aside. She wished what she wrote was true, the part about her having a great time. There was still time to try, though she didn't know if it was possible. If her grandmother wasn't going to let her have a good time then maybe she would have to find the good time herself. She always had an overactive imagination. She hadn't used it recently because of her mother being sick. It was like dusting off a book that hasn't been on the shelf for very long.

She imagined worlds far beyond her own. Planets whizzed by her bedroom on the way around their suns. She flew past mountains and canyons. A dragon breathed fire and missed her by inches. She trudged through a dark and mysterious castle looking for treasure.

That one stuck. She liked the idea so much that she flung her door open and went out into the hall. She walked slowly around the second floor, whispering to herself about all the things that were in the castle.

"And here's a treasure chest, but it's empty . . . over there is a trap door . . . Look! A vicious attack lizard. Aw, it's so cute."

Hazel made sure not to go near her grandmother's door. Mrs. Norwich would probably not approve of such fantasy. The attic's stairs loomed ahead, definitely the entrance to the monster's lair. She climbed up cautiously, knowing that the monster might suddenly appear behind her. At the top of the stairs she looked out into the attic and saw the devilish creature that was guarding the treasure. In reality it was an empty filing cabinet, but in her imagination it was a fiendish man with a long beard and the tail of a lion; obviously a mistake with the transformation ray. Dr. Liontail was the greatest scientist of all time, and ironically he was trying to turn himself into a rhinoceros.

Dr. Liontail picked up his transformation ray gun and began firing at her. Hazel jumped left and right and even rolled across the floor to avoid the blasts. She knew that the walls behind her were being destroyed and were burning with purple fire, but she also knew that the treasure was somewhere in that room.

Suddenly the doctor started running right at her! She jumped down the stairs and ran back to her room. She closed the door and backed up against the wall, never taking her eyes from the door. She was stuck in a small tunnel, but the way was blocked by a large boulder. There was no escape, or was there? She had powers. Hazel lifted her arms high into the air and turned in circles as power built up inside her. She was just about to direct it at the door where Dr. Liontail was coming through when . . . she froze mid twirl. The castle disappeared instantly.

The little brown box on her nightstand just made a noise. Or, at least something inside it did. There was a faint tap and the lid quivered. Hazel stepped closer, tilting her head to the side, hoping to better see the box in the moonlight coming in from the window. Another tap and another quiver. Hazel sat on her bed and watched. A third and much louder tap sent the lid flying across the room. Hazel jumped back, afraid of what would happen next.

A small furry paw reached out of the box and gripped the side. Hazel's eyes opened as wide as they could, and strained to be wider. A head appeared next, that of a bear. It tried to pull itself out, tipped the box, and spilled out onto the night stand. It picked itself up, shook its head vigorously, and then looked up at Hazel. She thought it was just about the cutest thing she had ever seen, but was too scared at that moment to want to pet it. It was a little black bear that was three inches tall and as real looking as anything else in the room.

The little bear jumped down from the nightstand. It ran to the door, its furry arms flung carelessly behind it. Hazel jumped off the bed and followed. It stopped by the door. Hazel opened it and the bear ran down the hallway. If Hazel wanted an adventure, then following a tiny bear that appeared in a plain box through her grandmother's house would be better than making one up.

When Hazel caught up the bear took off again, down the stairs, stopping by the front door. It was decision time. If she followed the bear outside, she could get into so much trouble . . . if she was caught. Or she could go up to her room and go to sleep and wake up to find that it had all been a dream. She opened the door as fast as she could. How many times was she really going to get the chance to do this?

The bear disappeared into the darkness. Hazel followed close behind. She could barely make out the dark bear on the dark grass. It stopped if it got too far ahead. It led her to the left of the house, into the forest. Hazel stopped. It would be hard to make excuses for a dirty dressing gown. The little bear ran into the trees. She figured she could think up an excuse later.

The forest was dark and scary. Bugs made up most of the symphony around her, but there were a few animal calls that she couldn't place. The bear did not give her time to think about that, it flew through the underbrush like it went right through it, which may have been exactly what it did. Hazel got cut and scraped by leaves and branches, but didn't stop. It was as if there was some kind of energy driving her forward despite the danger.

After a few more minutes of running and panting and almost tripping, the little bear stopped abruptly. They stood in a moonlit clearing, staring at each other. Everything was still and quiet. Not even the bugs lived that deep in the forest, or maybe they were being silent, waiting to see what happened next. Hazel stepped forward. The bear took a step back, its black fur shining in the moonlight. She took another step, and so did the bear. One more step. This time the bear turned and Hazel saw a small pool of water in the center of the clearing. She went up to it. It was only a few inches deep. Something shined white by the moon, something mostly buried in mud. She got down on all fours and looked. It was buried too deep to tell what it was. The little bear stood on the edge of the pool. It lifted an arm towards the submerged object. Hazel shook her head.

"What do you want me to do?"

It continued to point at the water.

"Do you want me to get that? What is it?"

The bear did not move. Hazel wondered if it had completed its objective and now had to wait until she finished hers, whatever that was. She sighed and tested the water. It was cool, dirty. Green and brown morphed together as she reached down and felt something hard and smooth. Her hands closed around a circular object and pulled. A large muddy something came out of the water. She found some leaves and cleaned it off while the bear watched. It was a large ceramic doll. It was very old, had cracks all over its body, and was missing all of its clothes. It was greenish from being in the water for so long. Hazel found its face to be very disturbing, especially out in the middle of the woods. Its blue eyes looked dead as they stared out of its cracked head.

Hazel did not want to touch it and got up to leave it there when the little bear made a horrible screech that no real bear would ever make. Hazel nearly fell over from fear. The bear pointed at the doll.

"But it's creepy looking." Hazel complained.

It continued to point. Hazel picked up the doll just so she wouldn't have to hear that noise again. The little bear took the lead again and led Hazel back through the trees until they were at the house. Hazel opened the door and waited for the bear to go in, but it had vanished. She figured it was done with what it had to do.

She took off her shoes for fear of mud stains and went back to her room. She closed the door and turned on the light. Her nightgown was muddy and had holes from where the branches hit. She carefully took it off and changed into the clothes she would wear the next day. She put down a towel from the bathroom under her bed and put her night gown and the doll on it, hoping that her grandmother would not feel like cleaning her room anytime soon.

She wasn't sure what the little bear wanted her to do with the doll, but she couldn't throw it out after all it took to get it. Hazel went to sleep with the strange hope that she had imagined everything. She woke early and looked under her bed, the doll was still there.

# 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.

# 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.

# Chapter VII

Hazel woke with a start. She sat in bed for a minute trying to grasp anything she could from the dream before it was gone. The only thing she remembered for more than a few minutes was that she was in a car, and then she saw water. It was a strange dream, but she didn't dwell on it, after all it was just a dream.

Hazel ran down to the basement. It took her a minute to figure out how to use the washer, but when she did she was relieved to avoid questions about her muddy clothes. It didn't last long; Mrs. Norwich chose that morning to wash her blankets. She called Hazel down after breakfast.

"Why are the clothes you wore yesterday in the wash?" Mrs. Norwich's hands were on her hips. She looked poised to strike at the wrong answer.

"I just thought I should help out more." Hazel said innocently.

"And why didn't you decide to wash all of your dirty clothes?"

Hazel didn't have an answer for this. But she was clever, and thought up an excuse very fast. "I hear small loads are better to ensure everything gets washed evenly."

Mrs. Norwich gave her a strange look. "Just put them in the dryer."

As Hazel was figuring out how to use the dryer she decided to get a little information about what she found the night before. "What is on a nineteen twenty-six dime?"

"Nineteen twenty-six? That was the year I was born. I have a few of those around, did you find one?"

"No, I was just wondering."

"From nineteen sixteen to Roosevelt's death in nineteen forty-five we had Mercury dimes."

"Oh, what was that thing on the back?"

"A Fasces."

"A what?"

"It's a bundle of sticks with an axe."

"What does it mean?"

"Hmm, I don't remember."

"That's alright."

Hazel now knew about the dime, but what she really wanted to know was how it got buried in a hill. She thought about asking if Mrs. Norwich was missing one, but had to remind herself that the mystery was all her own.

"I have a question for you." Mrs. Norwich suddenly asked.

Hazel was trying to figure out how to keep her mystery a secret and didn't hear what her grandmother said. "What?"

"I need to take something to town, but I don't want to go down and do it, do you think you could go down and do it for me. You say you want to run around outside, here's your chance."

"Sure." Hazel readily accepted the task, if she was lucky then she could find out why everyone hated her grandmother while there. "What do you need done?"

"I need you to go to the little library and return a book. I put it on my shelf by accident and forgot about it. I'll give you the money for the late fee. The librarian always has something rude to say, and I don't feel like dealing with her today. If you would go up and get it that would be great. It's the only book that has a library sticker. Here's some money."

Hazel wasted no time. In twenty seconds she was in the room with the book shelves. The one from the library was easy to spot. It was a history book about the Gilded Age. It was on a high shelf and when Hazel reached for it, it fell to the floor with a loud smack. She picked it up carefully and noticed another book, on the bottom shelf. It was very thin and very old. Hazel looked it over. It was a children's picture book from the 1930's. There were bizarre creatures on the cover. They came in all colors and had wings and little horns. They were creepy so Hazel put the book back without even looking inside.

It was another hot day outside. Hazel happily skipped down the path in the forest, excited to be out on her own in town for the first time. She was bound to find out something that would move her sleuthing along. Before long the small town opened up before her, the cute old houses reminding her of an old story.

She went through town, realizing that she never asked where the library was. It was alright, she would just have to ask someone. That proved to be harder than originally expected. She went up to several people, all of whom had better things to do then to talk to her. They must have known whose granddaughter she was. The hatred must have been deep. If only someone would tell her what happened? It did not take long for that to happen. While walking down a gravel path between an ancient school house and the post office a boy of about her age came up to her.

"You the Nor-itch girl?"

Hazel took a step back. This boy looked dirty, had on suspenders, and apparently had no clean shirts at his disposal so he just went without. "Excuse me?" Hazel said a little more snobby than she had intended.

"I asked if you was the Nor-itch girl. You're grand-mama is the old witch from the house up the hill?"

"Witch?" This boy was clearly not making a very good first impression. "Why did you call her that?" Hazel asked.

"Everyone does."

"And why is that?" Hazel asked, her anger rising.

"'Cause of all the stories." The boy said simply.

"Can you tell me some of them?"

"I only know a few. She killed her husband, and then sent her daughter away. That family used to care about us down here, and then they don't. My grandmamma told me."

Hazel couldn't believe it. Why would her parents let her go to a murderer's house? They wouldn't. Clearly this boy was mistaken. "You're mistaken, that never happened."

"Then why all the stories?"

He had a point, but Hazel wouldn't admit it. "Someone decided to play a mean joke one day by saying that and now it's regarded as fact. It's so obvious."

"If you say so." The boy walked away.

"Wait." Hazel called.

"Yes."

Hazel was determined to flesh out all the possibilities before the boy could get away and help spread lies. "Or, and this is probably the case. Since she has lived alone for so long in that big house the rumors started because someone thought it was strange that she didn't live with anyone. So obviously they made all that stuff up."

"If you say so." The boy said again as he started to walk away.

"Wait!" Hazel called again. The boy didn't stop this time.

She continued on, flustered. How could anyone believe something so terrible about her grandmother? Sure she was strict, her house was creepy, and she sent her daughter away. But did that mean she was a murderer. Hazel knew it wasn't true, and yet there was a tiny sliver of doubt within her. After all, she didn't know what happened to her grandfather. It would have been easy to get rid of someone in that big old house. And hadn't she seen and heard strange things? A vengeful spirit, maybe? And what of the little animals? No, absolutely not. Hazel pushed it from her mind.

When she became aware of her surroundings again she was standing right in front of the Swansberry Public Library. She took a deep breath and entered.

It was a small building, smelling of old books. The carpet was a dirty brown and the tables had names carved in to them with dates from forty years before. The main desk was off to the right, with a particularly stern looking woman staring at her. Hazel went up and put the book on the counter.

"I need to return this." She said nervously. "I think there is a late fee."

The librarian looked down at the book through large, thick glasses. "Let's see here. Aw yes, this book was due two months ago." She looked Hazel over. "You're Annabella's daughter?"

"Yes ma'am."

"I heard you were in town." The librarian said coldly. "I am going to have to charge you five dollars."

Hazel passed a five dollar bill across the counter. "Here you go."

"Thank you, now I would appreciate it if you told your grandmother to return books on time."

"Yes ma'am." Hazel sad dully.

She stepped out of the library hoping to never have to deal with that librarian again. She walked around the town and was met with strange looks, everyone knew who she was. This got so annoying that she decided it was best to go back to the house. The only thing that she accomplished was finding out why people of Swansberry hate her grandmother. She was determined to find the truth.

That night came the perfect chance. After dinner Mrs. Norwich pulled out a chess set. Hazel had learned to play chess with her father, but on those occasions they made up their own rules half way through the game. Hazel made sure to play by the rules against her grandmother, especially if she was going to ask the questions that she wanted answered.

"So," Hazel started several minutes into the game, "how long have you lived alone."

"Oh, it's been a long time now. Check."

Hazel scanned the board. "Already?"

Mrs. Norwich chuckled. "Yes, already, you've left your king back there by himself."

Hazel moved her queen back to protect her king. "But I mean, why live alone? You could have moved in with mom and dad."

Mrs. Norwich captured Hazel's second bishop. "No, I've always lived here and I always will. I can't imagine seeing this house being owned by someone else."

"Has your whole family lived here?"

"Yes."

Hazel captured a knight, the first piece she captured that wasn't a pawn. "Was your husband from Swansberry?" She looked up at her grandmother, afraid she was out of line.

"Yes." Mrs. Norwich said simply.

"Oh," Hazel looked down at the board, "whatever happened to him?" She asked as innocently as possible.

Mrs. Norwich sighed, her smile shifted to being reminiscing. "He got sick, and then died. The doctor did not know what was wrong."

Hazel felt a sudden pain. It sounded like the same type of thing that her mother was going through. "That's terrible." She said weakly.

Hazel wanted to ask the question that had been haunting her all day, but she could not bring herself to. How does someone ask a relative if they killed their husband? They can't, and Hazel didn't. She was almost certain that it was all a lie, and that is what she was going to believe.

The game ended when Mrs. Norwich captured all of Hazel's pieces except the king. Hazel tried to fight on, but gave up in the end. She spent the night in her room, thinking things over and trying to make sense of it all. There wasn't any sense to be had. Little animals, creaks in the house, possible murder. It didn't make any sense.

She went to bed early that night, wanting to sleep on all the things that happened that day. The night was hot, the air conditioning wasn't on and Hazel didn't know where the controls were. She opened the window before getting in bed. The breeze felt good in the stuffy room.

Sometime after midnight moon beams passed slowly into the room, illuminating the bed with a ghostly white light. Hazel slept on. A fly buzzed through the window and around the room. Hazel did not wake. The fly found the window and buzzed out and the moon passed away from the room. Hazel woke. She looked up at the dark ceiling, turned over, but could not get back to sleep. There was something keeping her awake, a noise. She listened hard and could hear a faint rumble from the open window. It was so quiet that her slightest movement drowned it out. Lying completely still she heard it again. Hazel got up and went to the window, but from what little light she could see with she could tell that there was nothing there. It wasn't coming from the back of the house, but the front. And it wasn't just any rumble, but that which can only be made by a car.

Hazel ran to the door, yanked it open, and sped down the hall; looking for a room with a window that faced the front. She could hardly believe it, her dad had come early. She rounded the corner to the attic, knew there were no windows, and went the other way. After turning down several corners she found a room with a front facing window and looked out. The front porch light was on, and there was no car in sight. Hazel lifted the window and strained to hear it again. The low rumble continued directly below her in the front yard, but there was nothing there. She backed away from the window. What else could make that noise? It was clearly that of a car. Hazel jumped in shock. She had just heard a car door close. Very slowly she peeked out the window again, hoping to see something. The window showed the lawn and nothing more.

Heart pumping, her breathing shallow, Hazel stepped away from the window. There was nothing there, but she heard something. She knew she heard something. It was clear as day. What was happening? Hazel backed out of the room, too afraid to take her eyes from the window.

Somehow she made it back to her room and hid under the covers. For the first time she was afraid that the mystery of Swansberry Hill House might hide something that she didn't want to uncover. She managed to get to sleep, but only after the sun rose to reassure her that everything was safe and normal with the world.

# Chapter VIII

It rained all day. Hazel tried several times during breakfast and lunch to ask about the sounds she heard, but she didn't want to be thought of as crazy. She was so tired that she almost fell asleep in several different chairs. She moved from one to another, trying to find some way to spend the day. She didn't feel like doing much. The room with the bookshelves took her interest for a while. Each book was old and some were falling apart, but that only added to their charm. They covered a wide range of topics. Hazel tried to read about botany, but she couldn't pronounce a lot of the scientific names and put the book back. Astronomy was a little easier because the book had so many drawings of planets and stars. She accidentally ripped a page and returned the book to its shelf, making sure it was in the exact location she found it in so it didn't look like anybody had touched it.

She came to the book about the zoo that she had seen the first time she was in there. The pictures were nice, but she couldn't help feeling sad that most of the animals in there were probably dead by now. There was a bear like the one that came out of the box, except bigger and meaner. There was a monkey with similar colors to the one that shrieked at her, and a bunch of other animals including cheetahs, horses, and alligators.

Several minutes later she was back in the living room trying not to nod off. She didn't feel like taking a nap. She wished there was a television. At least then she could mindlessly watch it for hours instead of having to think of something to do. It would take her weeks to catch up on all the shows she liked to watch. And how was she supposed to get news? Anything at all could be happening in the world. She normally didn't watch news, but at the time the lack of it seemed like a legitimate thing to complain about.

Dinner came and went. Hazel took to watching the rain as day changed to night. Lightning was now mixing in. She stared out of the window for some time, thinking about anything and everything other than the house. She wondered if it was raining at home, if her mother was doing alright, what her friends were doing, what she would be doing at home at that time in the evening. A bolt of lightning halted her thoughts. It had illuminated the now darkened forest for only a second. Hazel thought she saw someone standing by a tree. She didn't get a good look at them, but that didn't matter. There wasn't anyone out there. She nodded and went away from the window . . . just in case.

The boring day came to a close and Hazel couldn't wait to get to sleep. Unfortunately it didn't last long. For about the fifth night since she had been in that house something woke her up. Her first instinct was to think it was thunder, but that wasn't it. Instead it was the little brown box. And something was inside it again. Hazel only wanted sleep and thought about tossing the box out the window. She thought better of it. Her head hit her pillow and she was out. Sometime later she heard another strange noise, only this one was coming from right beside her. She opened her eyes and let out a cry. A tiny horse was only an inch from her face. It neighed playfully as she jumped off her bed. Where were these things coming from?

The horse jumped off the bed, and like the two animals before it, ran to the door. When it was opened the little horse ran into the hall. Hazel quickly changed into the same clothes she wore the last time, they were now officially her "adventure clothes". After the things she saw and heard outside the past few days, Hazel was hesitant to go out. But that strange energy that had her running after the bear and monkey returned. She opened the front door without a thought for her own safety.

The rain was torrential. The horse ran into the wet night, she followed close behind. The wind whipped and pushed Hazel this way and that. The rain soaked her through within seconds. The little horse was only visible during flashes of lightning. Hazel was strong willed and despite the weather, continued. The horse ran all the way around the house and into the forest. The ground was soft and wet. The mud and water went straight through Hazel's socks, giving her a sudden chill.

The short flashes of light illuminated the forest in strange ways. She saw trees and low branches only seconds before running into them. Bizarre shadows had her seeing creatures and people that weren't really there. This spooked Hazel and she thought of turning back several times before deciding to see the adventure through. She was now certain that those little animals were somehow connected to the strange sightings at the Swansberry Hill House.

The little horse stopped. Hazel ran past it. The animal whined like a normal horse and she turned back. A bolt of lightning showed them to be in an alcove of some sort. The trees were close together with vines and ivy meshed together to form a wall. There were two ways out, a path ahead and one behind, where they came in. The horse took the path ahead. Hazel followed slowly.

Rain could be heard pounding on the canvas of leaves and ivy above them, with only a few drops reaching the ground. The light shined through the small holes in the ceiling and walls of this natural tunnel. The little horse neighed for her to follow. Lightning struck and Hazel saw something ahead. It appeared to be a small wood house, the same size as she was. It was overgrown and the walls were coming apart, but it could still clearly be distinguished amongst the trees. The horse went in through a hole in the wall. Hazel opened the door and went in.

The house was filled with bugs and spider webs, but also with small toys and dolls that had been long forgotten. Hazel waited for the intermittent flashes of light to see everything. The horse stood by a small something that stood apart from everything else. It was a small piece of metal with a flat bottom and a wooden handle connected to the top, it was an old toy clothes iron. It was the only toy that did not look old. The metal was as sleek and clear as if it were brand new.

Hazel started to look around, but the horse whined at her until she went over to the iron. She picked it up and the whines ceased. It was heavy for something so small. The next bolt of lightning showed that the horse had vanished. She waited in case it came back, but it did not. She was alone in the old play house. For the first time since she left the house she felt an acute fear of being alone and lost. She started to panic. She left the small house and ran back through the corridor of trees, always expecting something to come out and grab her.

The path was easy to follow until she got to the normal part of the forest, and then she was really lost. The rain felt harder than ever, the thunder made her jump every time. Every tree looked the same; she wasn't sure what direction to go in. Hazel wandered over here and over there, hoping to see a light source of some sort, but none were visible. Sadness set in, followed by hopelessness.

Hazel had just about given up hope of finding a way out when a particularly powerful bolt of lightning revealed what looked like a person some distance ahead of her. Instead of being afraid, the sight was comforting. She went in the direction of the figure, only to see that the person had moved a little to the left or right with each new flash of light. The person never appeared to be moving when the light shined on them, and yet was always in a different spot. Hazel followed it for some time until, to her immense surprise and relief, the Swansberry Hill House came into view. Hazel waited for the next light to say "thank you" but the person was gone.

Getting back to her room was going to be a hard task. Hazel was covered in mud. Surely her grandmother would see that the floor was wet and muddy in the morning. Hazel removed her shoes and socks and rolled up her jeans and then ran to the basement door. She had made a mistake the last time by washing her clothes in the morning. This time she went straight to the basement to wash them. The rain and thunder would hide the sound perfectly. Hazel was glad to find clean clothes sitting on the drier that she had forgotten to pick up the day before. She switched into them and washed and dried her dirty clothes, cleaned her shoes off in the sink, and made it up to bed before dawn. In her exhaustion she had forgotten the toy iron in the basement.

# Chapter IX

The rain finally passed sometime before Hazel woke up. Mrs. Norwich had to come up and shake her granddaughter awake at noon. She did not approve of sleeping in. She made Hazel remove the leaves and branches from the lawn that the storm left.

Hazel was not too fond of the idea of getting her shoes dirty again in the still wet ground, but she did as she was told. Occasionally she looked into the forest, hoping to see the figure from the night before. To find out for certain if he was real or if he was just a figment of her overactive imagination. Anything was possible at the Swansberry Hill House.

Two hours later Hazel dragged the last branch into the forest. Mrs. Norwich waited at the front door to tell Hazel to take her shoes to the basement for cleaning. Hazel wanted to tell her grandmother that she already did that once, but knew she couldn't. She liked the feeling of having secrets, though one of her secrets almost came to light a few seconds later.

Mrs. Norwich followed Hazel downstairs and while Hazel was rinsing off her shoes, Mrs. Norwich noticed the toy iron still sitting on the washing machine. She went over to it, examined it, and then picked it up.

"Where did you get this?" She asked curiously.

Hazel couldn't believe that she had forgotten it. She quickly thought up an excuse. "I found it in town the other day; it was sitting on the sidewalk, nobody was near it."

"Hmm. I had one once, but it was so long ago, and this one is so . . . new."

Hazel didn't like the way she paused, as if wondering if it were possible that it could be hers. Hazel didn't know whose it was, though she should have guessed that it was her grandmothers. After all, the doll once belonged to Mrs. Norwich. But that put another idea into Hazel's mind. Did she know about the little animals? Hazel looked at her grandmother suspiciously and held her hand out. "I'll take it."

Mrs. Norwich looked to be in a trance "Oh, yes, here." She handed the iron to Hazel. "I'm going to go upstairs now."

Hazel watched her go, thinking about how simple it was to see that Mrs. Norwich knew more than she let on about the mysteries Hazel was trying to solve. Hazel knew she knew something, but the extent of her knowledge did not dawn on Hazel until that moment. The idea of her grandmother conspiring with the little animals seemed so strange, but nothing would surprise Hazel too much anymore.

Eventually she did leave the basement. She wandered up to her room and put her shoes away before going down for an early dinner in exchange for lunch. Mrs. Norwich did not show up, she left the food on the table for Hazel to get. There was no game of chess or Parcheesi that night. Hazel hoped that Mrs. Norwich wasn't feeling very well and not getting an army of little animals together for an invasion of some kind.

Hazel passed her grandmother's room and saw that the door was closed. She passed her own room and continued to the attic. Her curiosity was getting too strong to control. That thick letter in the crate might have some secrets and Hazel wanted to get at it because she was starting to wonder if everything was actually in her head and not in reality. The conclusions that she was coming to seemed to get more and more bizarre.

She found the letter easily. It was in a purple envelope that had no addresses on it. It was a good three times thicker than any of the others. Hazel hid behind one of the filing cabinets and removed a packet of pages from the envelope. She started to read:

December 25, 1984

I can't believe this is the tenth Christmas since it all happened. I am writing this for those who find me dead one day; I know that I will probably never get another visitor. I need to get this out, to tell it the way I know it. And so here it is. On August 3, 1974 my world changed forever. But I didn't mean it to. It was my fault that he died, but I tried to stop him.

Hazel put the papers down. Her grandmother really did kill her husband. But was in an accident? She kept reading.

My husband got sick one day. I don't know what it was, nobody knows what it was. He got worse and worse until he was almost unrecognizable. He got thinner, lost his hair. My daughter Mary wanted to help, she did help, but it was no use. He died, leaving us both behind. WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY

Hazel flipped to the next page. Before she could read it she heard a creak on the stairs. Panicked, she put the papers back into the envelope, threw them into the crate, and started down the stairs, hoping to head off Mrs. Norwich.

No one was on the stairs. She started back to her room when she heard something else, something that made her freeze in mid step. It was too quiet to make out; it was coming from her left. She moved in that direction, transfixed by the sound. The closer she got, the more she became wary. The sound was coming from the room behind the locked door. It was a familiar sound, one that she had heard before, but she couldn't place it through the door. Cautiously, she put her ear to the hole. The sound became instantly recognizable. Someone was whispering, and it sounded as if it was right on the other side of the door. Hazel couldn't move. She was literally too afraid to get away.

It sounded like a man talking to himself. She couldn't make out any of the words until:

. . . She found it . . .

Her heart dropped. Her body went numb. Whoever was in there was talking about her. The rest of what the man said was incoherent. It took another minute for Hazel to regain control of her feet, and as soon as she could she went straight to her grandmother's room. Fearing knocking would be too loud, she opened the door.

Mrs. Norwich was laying on her bed in the dark, with a small towel over her eyes.

"Mrs. Norwich," Hazel whispered, approaching the bed. There was no response.

"Mrs. Norwich," Hazel said louder, gently shaking her grandmother.

"What is it?" She got up and removed the towel.

"There's someone in the house."

"What?"

Hazel's voice shook, "I heard someone in the locked room by the attic."

"Mrs. Norwich groaned. "You were imagining things."

"I'm not." Hazel said strongly.

Mrs. Norwich looked into her granddaughters eyes and saw the intensity. "Alright, I'll look." She got out of bed and left the room.

Hazel grabbed the bed for support and waited. She expected to hear noises and shouting. A minute later Mrs. Norwich came back in the room, looking exhausted, but also looking a little scared.

"There's no one there. I went into the room, looked in other rooms, and saw and heard nothing. Now go to sleep."

"But I heard something." Hazel complained.

"Now!" Mrs. Norwich shouted.

Hazel ran from the room. She had not seen her grandmother angry, and did not like it. She hid under her covers for a long time that night, staring at the door. Expecting it to open and for a mysterious person to come in. She wished that the figure from the forest was there. He made her feel safe.

She was fast asleep when her door did open. A pair of bright blue eyes peeked into the moonlit soaked room. The eyes watched Hazel for some time before the door closed again. Floor boards creaked, growing steadily softer towards the attic.

# Chapter X

Hazel did not go near the locked room or the attic for the next few days. She kept to her room most nights. She wished more than ever that she had toys to play with or a television to watch to keep her mind busy. Mrs. Norwich was distant ever since she had been woken up that night. Hazel had to say things three or four times before her grandmother even realized she was being spoken to. Mrs. Norwich started wearing a frown at all times. It was normal for her to have a frown on her face, but this one was different. Mrs. Norwich's usual frown was her being serious all the time. The new frown seemed to always be directed at something, what that was Hazel didn't know.

Hazel had given up, for the time being, solving the mystery of Swansberry Hill House. Its conclusion frightened her from the clues that had already been gathered. The only problem was that the more she attempted to push it from her thoughts, the stronger it came back. She concluded that it would be best to wait out her time in the house and then go home, where she would hopefully forget about it over time.

On August 26, Hazel went down to breakfast to find bacon and eggs on a plate, and no Mrs. Norwich in sight. She ate it and then went around the house looking for her grandmother. She couldn't find her, but she did notice that Mrs. Norwich's door was closed. Hazel assumed that she was taking a nap. She knew old people took a lot of naps.

Hazel went to her own room and sat on the bed. She wasn't one to take naps, but the longer she sat on that bed the more tired she got. It felt as if the house was somehow draining her energy. Her head drifted back and soon she was fast asleep.

The house was still and silent for the next few hours, save for an occasional breeze moving drapes on an open window in the living room or a bird chirping in a nearby tree.

Hazel woke shortly after two and felt even more tired than when she fell asleep. She got out of bed and sauntered downstairs, still feeling groggy. A sandwich was waiting for her. She ate it. An armchair is where she spent the rest of her afternoon. It was close to the open window and had a nice breeze coming through. She fell asleep again in the chair.

Hazel woke up to the smell of potato soup. She got up and went into the kitchen. Dinner went quietly. Hazel washed the dishes and went back in to sit with Mrs. Norwich.

"I don't know what's wrong with me today." Mrs. Norwich said. "I've been tired all day."

"Me too." Hazel admitted.

"It's just one of those days, I guess."

"I guess so."

"You know what?" Mrs. Norwich asked, trying to find a smile that did not look faked.

Hazel smiled at the attempt. "What?"

"It's the twenty sixth. You go home in a few days."

"Yeah." Hazel agreed calmly.

"You don't sound very excited about it."

"I am."

And she was excited to see her parents again and get home, but there was still so much to learn about that house. She had to remind herself that she no longer wanted to solve the mystery.

"What are you going to do when you get home? Go see that friend of yours?"

Hazel liked that Mrs. Norwich remembered Stephanie. "I'll see her at school. Maybe you should come by sometime and see mom. I'm sure she would love to see you."

"I doubt that." Mrs. Norwich scoffed.

Hazel fought the urge to ask why her mother was sent away all those years ago. "You never know."

A few hours later hazel was sitting in her room, watching the darkness outside. A noise brought her attention to her door. A light turned on nearby in the hall. It was just her grandmother going to the bathroom. She checked the old clock on her nightstand, it was almost midnight. Once again she couldn't sleep. This time it was because she slept most of the day. Hazel continued to stare out of the window.

A grunt shook her out of her boredom. She turned instinctively to the box on the nightstand. It quivered. Hazel sighed. She didn't feel like running around outside for a creepy old thing that as of yet hadn't proved their worth. But despite this she watched the box anxiously. The lid flew off and she still jumped. A hairy pig hopped out. It had tusks or something that looked like them sticking out of its mouth. Hazel thought back to the animal book for the name. Boar.

Hazel nodded at it and turned back to the window. It grunted. It wasn't a normal grunt that a normal boar would make, but Hazel didn't know that. She had never seen a real boar on television or in person. The small creature grunted several times before Hazel looked back at it.

"I hope you know that I've given up this craziness." Hazel turned her back on the little boar.

The boar grunted several more times with no reaction from Hazel. The final noise it made was not a grunt, but a shriek, the same noise the monkey had made. Hazel turned back and attempted to grab the little boar, thinking of nothing else that would quiet it.

One moment she was looking at the boar and the next she wasn't. She didn't think she was in her room at all. It was a dark around her. Hazel looked around. There was a concrete floor and the walls were bare. A few buckets stood in a corner and an odd machine that she took to be an old washing machine was against one of the walls. Despite the differences Hazel knew where she was. Somehow the boar had transported her to a different version of the basement. Hazel heard a soft noise that sounded like someone was crying. Slowly a young girl, about her age, materialized before her. The girl wore a white dress and had long brown hair. Hazel could only see the back of her. She tried to move but couldn't. There was something in the girl's arms and Hazel wanted very much to know what it was.

The girl stooped down next to the stone wall, put her finger in a small hole and pulled. A square of stone came out of the wall, revealing a hidden compartment. The little girl dropped what she was holding into the compartment and put it back into the wall, where it blended in perfectly.

A voice made the girl turn around. Hazel gasped when she saw the same face that she had seen in a picture her grandmother showed her. The only difference was that this girl did not have a doll with her.

"What are you doing, Annabella?" The voice was that of a woman.

"Oh nothing, Mama." Young Mrs. Norwich lied.

"Well come on, it's time for supper."

The girl left and Hazel was looking back at the little boar. The animal was silent now. It acted as if nothing had happened. It ran to the door and waited for her.

Hazel forgot all about her want to forget about the mystery and followed the little boar out of the room and down the stairs. She ran ahead to the front door, and was surprised when the animal did not follow. It was nowhere to be seen. Hazel went around the first floor looking for it. She searched in the through the living room, down the hall, and around the kitchen, finally finding it at the door to the basement. Hazel opened the door, and it immediately disappeared into the darkness below.

The stairs to the basement were narrow and old, making them a lot scarier in the dark. Hazel took them one step at a time, making sure to select each foot position carefully. At the bottom Hazel felt around the wall for a light switch. She bumped into the washer and drier before her hand landed on it. She flipped it. Light sputtered on from two bulbs in the center of the ceiling, casting strange shadows in the corners of the room. There were no windows or any other way to produce light down there even during the day, but the room seemed darker and more sinister to Hazel at night.

The boar sniffed and grunted its way to the exact spot that Hazel had seen in the strange . . . vision? Memory? It didn't matter what she saw, the point was it went over to the same spot Hazel had seen her grandmother at. Hazel put her finger into the hole; her finger was almost too big for it, and pulled. The compartment split apart from the wall, revealing a hole big enough to hide a sneaker box. She felt around inside, it was empty.

The boar grunted expectantly.

"There's nothing there." Hazel told the boar.

It grunted indignantly.

"I'm telling you there is nothing in here."

The boar jumped up and hung half over the compartment. It looked in, saw nothing, jumped back down, and ran around the basement sniffing the floor.

"What is it? What was supposed to be in there?"

Of course she knew it wouldn't answer, but she wanted to get the questions out there anyway. She watched patiently as the boar sniffed the entire floor. It gave her time to wonder about the little animal's existence. It was definitely there, she could see it as clearly as she saw the washing machine or her own shoes. But then her knowledge of reality came into account. Sure she was only ten and hadn't seen or heard of as much as her parents or Mrs. Norwich, but she was fairly sure that tiny animals who could shriek like a monsters from a movie did not exist. And yet, once again, there it was.

The boar stopped in front of her and stood completely still. Hazel thought that it might want her to touch it again and put her hand towards it. The animal avoided the touch and continued sniffing.

"Oh, please, what are you doing? There's nothing here."

Hazel had barely finished the sentence when the boar disappeared.

"Really? Is that it? Oh, alright goodbye."

Hazel picked herself off of the floor and went back to her room, unsure of what had happened or if there was any importance to it. The little animal had clearly been looking for something, but what? Hazel didn't care at that moment, she had grown very tired.

An hour later her door opened. Mrs. Norwich stepped in. She looked around the room for a minute. She went back to the door and was about to leave when she turned around and looked at the bed. The door closed silently. Mrs. Norwich tiptoed through the darkness and knelt down; pulling up the blankets that Hazel had already kicked to the floor. Mrs. Norwich felt around under the bed and pulled out the doll. She stroked its head softly. Hazel turned over. Mrs. Norwich returned the doll and left the room.

# Chapter XI

The door to the locked room was a shade darker than all the other doors, possibly made from a different wood. It looked older and had a knocker. She still had no answer for the M.N. on the door. Hazel looked through the keyhole at the drawers against the wall. She had to get inside. She wasn't going to be able to finish what she started unless she saw what was in there. It would end her fear once and for all.

She tried the silver handle. It was the only silver one in the house, all the others were brass. The door didn't budge. Hazel thought back to when Mrs. Norwich went to check the room. Did she grab a key from her room? Hazel didn't think so, making her believe that the key must be near the door somewhere, unless her grandmother kept it on her. Hazel looked all around the door. There didn't appear to be any places to hide a key. And then she noticed something along the frame of the door, several feet above her head. It looked as though there was a vertical crack that was several inches long. It was too perfect to be natural. She stood on her toes and reached up as high as she could and pressed the crack. A compartment flung open, revealing a large black skeleton key. Hazel grabbed it, excitement flowing through her. She put the key in the hole and turned it.

There was a click and the door opened. It was smaller than she expected. There was a simple wooden bed, the drawers she had already seen, a small desk, and a painting on the wall. It showed a man Hazel recognized as Mrs. Norwich's father. He had bright blue eyes that didn't show in the old photograph. The floor was wood instead of carpet like the rest of the bedrooms.

Hazel started with the drawers. There were a few small items in them, an old pocket watch, an empty wallet, a worn pair of shoes, and nothing else. She was hoping for a note explaining everything that was going on. She went around the room looking under the bed and behind the desk, but there was nothing of any significance.

Hazel's heart sank at the fact that the room was just a plain old room with no secrets. She locked the door and returned the key, and went downstairs for breakfast.

Once again a plate of bacon and eggs waited for her at the table. It was cold, but she ate it anyway. After eating she cleaned her plate and wandered about the first floor and basement looking for Mrs. Norwich. There was no sign of her.

"Maybe she went to town." Hazel thought aloud.

The thoughts of her grandmother laying in the path somewhere unnerved her. Hazel tried not to think bad thoughts like that since her mother got sick, but it was hard to resist sometimes. She went upstairs, hoping to find her there.

Mrs. Norwich was in Hazel's room, with her back to the door. She was looking over a muddy towel with several objects on it. A doll, a coin, and a little toy iron. Hazel tried to back out of the room to think up an excuse. Her foot hit the floor and a creak rang out. She was certain that her heart stopped beating. Mrs. Norwich flipped around. Her face was contorted in rage.

"What are these?" She asked slowly.

"Oh, nothing, just some things that I found." Hazel's hands were shaking with nerves. She never thought of what to do if her grandmother found those things. How was she supposed to explain little animals leading her into the woods?

"I want them out of here now." Mrs. Norwich's voice was lethal.

"I don't know what they are, I just found them."

Mrs. Norwich took a step toward Hazel. "I want them out of here now."

She was already in trouble; surely it wouldn't hurt to finally ask some questions. "Do you know anything about them?"

"Get rid of them NOW!" Mrs. Norwich shouted.

Hazel ran to the bed, picked up the towel with all the objects in it, and ran from the room. She didn't stop at the door and went out into the mid morning sunlight. She didn't know where to go or what to do. Why had Mrs. Norwich hated seeing those things so much? Hadn't the doll been hers?

Hazel walked around the house, trying to think up what to do next. She could put everything back, but she wasn't sure if she remembered where they all went. And then she thought of the little boar and how it showed her the compartment in the basement. That was it! Maybe it was trying to show her that she could hide what she found in there to keep them away from her grandmother. Hazel ran back to the front door and opened it slowly. She would have to get by her grandmother to get them to the basement.

From her view through the half open door, the house was empty. Hazel tiptoed in, closed the door, and listened again. Everything was still. She quietly made it through the living room, stopping every step to hear for her grandmother. There was no telling where she was.

The door to the basement loomed in front of her. Hazel quietly opened it and disappeared into the darkness below. It was harder to descend the narrow steps while carrying something. She made it to the bottom and crossed over to the compartment, too afraid to turn on the light. She walked into the washer and dryer before finding the little hole in the wall. She pulled it out and put the towel with all the objects into it. It barely fit. The compartment slid back into place and Hazel stood up.

Light flared on. Hazel turned around blinking. Her grandmother stood in the center of the room, her hand still on the chain hanging from one of the light bulbs. Shadows hung all around the edges of the room, pushing toward the light to get a better view.

"What are you doing?" Mrs. Norwich asked softly. "Did you get rid of those things?"

Mrs. Norwich's hands now rested on her waist. Hazel thought it was to keep them somewhere so they didn't lash out. She had never seen her grandmother like that. Actually she had never seen anybody get that angry before in her life. Not even when her parents got into a car accident once that was clearly not their fault.

Hazel stepped back to the wall. There was nowhere to go. She had to answer the question. She didn't know what her grandmother was capable of doing now that she was so mad.

"I put them back where I found them."

"That was fast." Mrs. Norwich shot a quick glance at the wall near where the compartment was.

"Could you please just tell me what the big deal is?" Hazel pleaded.

Mrs. Norwich's eyes flashed with a look that Hazel had never seen. It was as if her grandmother was both angry and sad, and didn't know which to convey. "No" was all she said.

"Then how am I supposed to know why I can't do something?"

"You will go up to your room and you will wait for me to call you for lunch."

Hazel did as she was told. In her room she jumped on the bed, lying lifelessly on top of her blankets. She reached over and picked up the little brown box and looked it over. She wondered if her grandmother knew what it could do. Hazel doubted it. If Mrs. Norwich did know then she probably would have told her to get rid of it. There was some reason why Mrs. Norwich acted the way she did, but Hazel wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer.

Everything she knew didn't seem like enough. She was just more confused than ever before. Her grandmother owned the doll and apparently everything else. Did she know about the animals? There was only one way to find out.

Hazel was called down to lunch a short time later. A cold grilled cheese sandwich was waiting for her when she got there. Hazel noticed that her grandmother appeared gaunt. There were dark circles under her eyes and bags under them . . . well, bigger bags. Mrs. Norwich sat across from Hazel and watched her eat.

"I brought a box from home." Hazel began. "It belonged to my mother. She had it for a long time. I was wondering if she had it here. Do you know?"

"You mean that box on your nightstand?" Mrs. Norwich asked without taking her eyes from Hazel.

"Yes." Hazel answered slowly, attempting to decipher the confused expressions that flashed across her grandmother's face. This was not the same person Hazel knew for the past few weeks.

"She may have had it here. She had a lot of things."

"So you don't recognize it? Have you ever looked inside?"

There was a long pause, and then, "No."

"Oh." Hazel said, out of ideas.

Lunch passed and Hazel was told to go back to her room. Once there she sat on her bed and watched the trees outside through the open window. Something about their relaxed movements in the breeze calmed her. The bright leaves twisted and swirled. A few fluttered down to the ground. Hazel couldn't take her eyes off of the trees. All together they morphed into one creature, trapped in the ground, unable to move or wander as it pleased. It must be hard to be trapped. She wanted to help it, the tree creature. It was in her nature to want to help anything that needed it. But there was no way to help the trees escape the ground.

She remembered a time a few years back when she was taking a walk with her parents. They were walking by a very big and busy street when a little bird crashed to the ground. All the cars were back at the stop light, no one was coming. Hazel tried to run into the street to help the poor bird, but her parents pulled her back. They said that it was already injured, and that if she saved it from the cars then it would die slowly because it wouldn't be able to feed itself. Hazel didn't care; she just wanted to save the little bird. She couldn't. Both she and the bird were trapped. The light turned and Hazel watched as the cars came barreling down towards the defenseless bird. At first it looked as if a miracle was happening. The cars missed the bird by inches. It was blown over just in time to miss the tires. But it didn't last. Hazel shrieked as a large truck finally made contact. She cried the rest of the way home. It was a few days later when she thought that if she had saved it then she could have raised it. She wished she thought of that when it counted.

Maybe Mrs. Norwich felt like the bird or Hazel, trapped. After living in the same place and losing her father, mother, husband, and her daughter being sick it was bound to make her feel trapped. If she did feel like that, how would Hazel help? By solving the mystery of Swansberry Hill House, of course. This excited Hazel. Her room was boring. The prospect of getting to do something constructive gave her hope. There were only a few days left to figure it all out, and she knew she could do it. There was now a trapped grandmother that hung in the balance. She just hoped that her imagination wasn't getting the best of her again.

Hazel was too scared of Mrs. Norwich's current mood to say anything during dinner. Late that night she sat in her room, thinking up a plan. It would have to be a subtle one that wouldn't attract too much attention. She couldn't just go out and ask what she wanted to know, there was no way Mrs. Norwich would answer. One of the few things that Hazel knew was that whatever happened in that house it was when Mrs. Norwich was a kid, and it was beyond her father dying. There wasn't enough information to know it to be true. Yet somehow Hazel did know it to be true. Hazel thought it over, and then left her room and found her grandmother in the living room, knitting.

"Mrs. Norwich."

Mrs. Norwich put her knitting down and watched as Hazel took a seat across the room. "What?"

"You're the oldest person I know."

"And?" Mrs. Norwich said slowly.

"Well I was just wondering if you could tell me what you did when you were young and what your family was like."

"I think I did already."

"Yes, but I want to know more, it's not like I get to talk to someone your age very often. I can learn so much."

Mrs. Norwich sighed. "Alright, let's see. I grew up during the depression. As a kid I didn't feel it much because well . . ." She gestured around at the room. "My mother would make sure we had enough to eat. My father spent most of his money just trying to keep this place up. He would have garden parties; remember I told you about those? Anyway, the kids from town would come with their parents and eat and feel better. Back then most fathers worked elsewhere, that was back when the people of Swansberry cared about the rest of the world. It all changed when my father died. The parties stopped, the people stopped coming, I think they thought we abandoned them or something. They didn't care that we had just lost someone."

"I'm sorry." Hazel finally made sense out of what that boy said to her in town.

"And then the war started. Always hearing about people dying, it only made us here feel worse that we lost someone. Then my mother died, and I was alone." Mrs. Norwich stared off into space, forgetting Hazel was even there. "I got rid of everything my mother had. I was so mad."

"Why were you mad?"

Mrs. Norwich cocked her head to the side, as if trying to figure out where the voice was coming from. "Because she left me."

"It wasn't her fault."

Mrs. Norwich stood up and walked away without another word. The lights were turned off and Hazel sat in the dark room by herself. She eventually went up to bed.

# Chapter XII

Hazel laid back and closed her eyes. An hour later she opened them again. There was a little bird sitting on her headboard looking down at her. It chirped. She jumped off the bed and let out a cry.

The little bird was red, but didn't fit any of the birds that Hazel had ever seen. It bounced around the headboard, fluttering its wings while its head twitched from side to side. It chirped occasionally, but it didn't sound much like a bird, more like a bad impression of one. There was no way that it was a real bird.

Hazel got up and went to the door, opened it, and waited for the bird to follow. She knew where it was going. The bird would come, go downstairs and then would either go to the basement (which was unlikely) or go outside (much more likely). The fake bird jumped down from the headboard and went to the door. Hazel went ahead to the stairs. But to her horror the bird did not go to the stairs. Instead it stopped outside her grandmother's door. It opened its mouth.

"Don't you dare." Hazel whispered.

It let out a deep chirp.

Hazel ran over to it. As she got closer the bird unleashed several loud chirps into the silent house. She scooped up the little bird into her hands. At the same time her vision left the dark hallway.

She was looking at a man who was kneeling before her. They were outside. A very old black car was behind him. The man looked so familiar. A photograph can never capture the true essence of a person. Mr. Norwich put his hand out. Hazel looked to her right to see his hand stroke the head of a young version of her grandmother.

"I love you so much, Annie." Hazel's great grandfather said.

"When are you coming back?" A tearful Annabella asked.

Her father laughed quietly. "I'm only leaving for the weekend. And you know what? If business goes well I might be back early. Now how about that?"

"I hope so."

"Hey, don't cry, I will always be with you. I will never leave."

Mr. Norwich hugged his quaking daughter. He stood up and got into his car, started the engine, and took off down the path between the trees, waving until out of sight.

Hazel was back in the dark hallway, breathing hard. Somehow she knew that young Mrs. Norwich was never going to see her father again. The little bird was looking quietly up at her from in her hands. Hazel heard footsteps coming from inside the room. She ran to her room, shut the door, dropped the bird, and jumped on her bed just in time. The door opened a second later.

The light clicked on. Hazel sat up, blinking in the sudden brightness.

"What was that noise?" Mrs. Norwich asked sternly.

"What noise?" Hazel let out a fake yawn.

"I heard a strange chirping."

"Oh . . . uh, that was me. I like to try out animal noises."

"Right outside my room?" Mrs. Norwich looked particularly moody that night.

"I was in here." Hazel lied.

"It is un-lady like to go around making animal noises."

Hazel wasn't listening. The little red bird was bouncing around on the other side of the open door. It came up and looked around the corner. At the sight of Mrs. Norwich it chirped happily.

"There it is again. That's not you." She looked around the door, right at the bird.

Hazel held her breath.

"I know I heard something. Do you have a bird in here?"

Hazel couldn't believe it. Her grandmother couldn't see the bird at all. It was invisible to her.

"I told you that was me." Hazel said, as though the whole thing was obvious.

"But it came from over here." Mrs. Norwich went around the corner of the room, looking for source of the noise.

"I'm telling you that I am doing it."

Mrs. Norwich sighed. "I don't know what you're doing, but stop it. It's late."

The little bird jumped up and down right in front of Mrs. Norwich. She didn't notice and almost stepped on it. As she left the room the little bird made a dash for her. Mrs. Norwich was just turning around to say something to Hazel when the bird touched her. She froze. For several seconds she stood there staring off into the distance.

When she came to she was breathing heavy, looking around wildly. "What . . ."

Hazel was worried. What had her grandmother seen? "What is it?"

"Nothing." Mrs. Norwich said quickly.

She gave a stern look towards Hazel's bed and then rushed over, pulling up the blankets and looking underneath the bed.

"What's wrong?" Hazel asked forcefully.

"Nothing." Mrs. Norwich stood up and left the room, closing the door behind her.

The bird had vanished. Hazel really was tired now, too much so to pursue any matters at the moment. She turned off the light and got under the covers. She would've given anything to know if her grandmother had the same vision that she had. But what would she think of it? Hazel hoped sleep would put some of the pieces together. If the mystery was a puzzle, Hazel would only have the edges. It was time to fill in the rest.

Hazel jumped out of bed the next morning. Sleep didn't give her any startling ideas, but it did help her manage what she already knew. The little animals came out of her box, they weren't real animals. She still didn't know what they were, but she was confident that the information would come later. She read enough Nancy Drew to know that the information would come out eventually. She also knew that her great grandfather had died when her grandmother was only ten, though Hazel wasn't sure what that had to do with anything. And finally Hazel knew that the little animals were trying to tell her something about the objects that they led her to, which all once belonged to Mrs. Norwich.

Progress was slow, but it was coming along. She ran downstairs, ready to put more pieces together. There was no breakfast waiting for her this time. She went around, tired of how many times she had to locate Mrs. Norwich recently. Hazel found her in the basement, at the worst possible place.

Mrs. Norwich was standing over the open compartment in the wall, a screw driver in her hand. That must have been how she reached in; her fingers were too big to fit in normally. She turned around at the sound of Hazel coming down the steps. She was frowning, but there was a definite fury hidden under the surface.

"Hazel," She started quietly, "why were the things that I told you to get rid of in the wall?"

Hazel was trying to breath but had a hard time getting the air into her lungs. "You told me to put them somewhere."

"I told you to put them back." Mrs. Norwich took a step forward. Hazel took two steps back.

"I was going to move them." Hazel said defensively.

"No you weren't. Do you think I haven't been tempted to use them? I know what's happening. I don't know how or why but I know."

"I don't know –"

"Yes you do!" Mrs. Norwich shouted. "I've seen them; I know why it's happening. Their doing it again, they want me this time don't they? I swore I wouldn't let them back in. How are they getting in?"

"Who is getting in?" Hazel cried, tears starting to streak down her face.

"Those creatures, I know they're here. They've been here before. They kill, I know they do. I want them gone and I want you to tell me where they are."

"I-I don't know."

"Yes you do!" Mrs. Norwich held out a finger. "Wait . . . that box, that's it. The box." She added quietly.

She ran at an incredible speed for someone of her age. She bounded up the stairs and out of sight. Hazel was at Mrs. Norwich's heels. Mrs. Norwich went up to the second floor and grabbed the little brown box. Hazel got to the room right behind her. Mrs. Norwich pushed Hazel back and closed the door. It was locked. She must have turned the switch before the door closed.

Hazel banged on the door, yelling unintelligible things that she couldn't remember ten seconds later. The mysterious force that made her want to follow the little animals was back, and it was telling her that she had to get that box before Mrs. Norwich did something to it. When she calmed down she realized that she could just turn the switch and leave. She then ran down the stairs in search for her grandmother.

Mrs. Norwich was in the living room, next to the fireplace which was ablaze. Mrs. Norwich looked back at Hazel, a mad gleam in her eyes.

"I will finally end this." She said. It seemed that she had waited a very long time to say that. She moved the box over the flames.

"Don't do that." Hazel said with strength she didn't know she had.

Mrs. Norwich began to lower the box.

"Don't." Hazel warned.

It was too late. Mrs. Norwich dropped the box. The flames cracked as they slowly swallowed the box. Hazel didn't know what to do, a wave of powerful emotions struck her. She screamed as loudly and as long as she could, and then she ran from the house, out the front door and down the path and through the trees. She didn't know where to go or where her feet would take her, but she didn't stop. The town emerged from the trees and Hazel ran straight through it. Before she knew it she was out into the nothingness beyond town, but still she didn't stop. A few minutes later she was in the little room between the tunnels of the old playground, sobbing. There was no telling how long she was in there. She cried until she couldn't anymore, and then curled up. So many thoughts went through her mind. Had that been it? Was the mystery over? Was the box the most important part? She didn't know any of the answers, but that moment she didn't care. There were more important things going on. Where was she supposed to go? Would Mrs. Norwich let her back in? Hazel was too scared and tired to think about it. She rested her head on her arm and fell asleep.

# Chapter XIII

There was no such thing as time in that little room. Hazel woke up with no idea as to how long she had been in there. Things had gone so wrong so fast. Was there any way to get things back to normal? Maybe they could if she forgot about the mystery and went back and apologized to her grandmother. Whatever was happening was obviously too traumatic to recount.

Hazel looked around. Mrs. Norwich was sitting on the edge of one of the tunnels looking solemnly at her. Hazel quickly backed up towards a tunnel.

"Don't," Mrs. Norwich said quietly, "we need to talk."

Hazel stopped and curled up against the wall. Mrs. Norwich sat down beside her.

"I want to apologize for the way I acted and explain why I was like that." Mrs. Norwich said quickly.

Hazel listened intently, but refused to look at her grandmother.

"When I was your age several events occurred all at once that changed my life." She spoke softly without any emotion. "As you know my father died when I was ten years old. He was on his way to a business trip in a nearby town. He sold furniture. Only minutes into his trip he came to a bridge and lost control of the car. The car was discovered in the water below, his body several miles downstream." She paused for a minute to recompose herself. "Earlier that evening he promised that he would never leave me, and then he was gone. I couldn't get over that for years. I thought about when he said that to me. Was he lying?"

"He couldn't help dying." Hazel whispered.

"He shouldn't have made the promise. My younger years were spent trying to figure out why he lied to me. I began to fight with my mother. She had troubles getting over it also. I needed someone to comfort me and reassure me, and she couldn't do that. It drove us apart. I spent many nights right here in this playground. She never knew where I was going." She smiled sweetly at Hazel, who didn't look back. "I think I know what's been going on with you. Several days after my father died I heard a strange noise coming from my father's room. I went and looked as any curious child would. There was a box on his bed. I don't know what he was going to do with it, but it was there. Next to the box was a little monster. It was a hideous creature with green skin and horns. I was so frightened that I ran from the room. It followed me into my room started tugging at my doll. My father gave me that doll several years earlier for my birthday, and I refused to let that evil creature at it. After a while it disappeared. I thought that was it, but it wasn't."

Hazel finally looked at her grandmother. She was staring at the opposite wall, tears streaming from her eyes.

"The next night another creature came from the box. This one was black, and just as frightening. It came into my room that night and took a dime from my dresser. That dime had my birth year on it. I chased the thing through the house and finally got the coin back. Over the next few weeks similar creatures came from the box and tried to take things. I started to feel strange every time they emerged. The feeling was so strong, and it took me a while to figure out what it meant, but then I understood. Somehow every time those creatures came from the box I felt that I was responsible for my father's death. It was so strong I knew it had to be true."

"But you weren't responsible." Hazel asserted.

"I wanted answers and I couldn't find any, and then that feeling came with the little monsters and I knew I did it. I can't explain to you how it felt, how strong the feeling was." Mrs. Norwich removed a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped her eyes. "As the emotions grew my relationship with my mother got worse. I sent her away from me crying on so many occasions. Finally I made the connection between the creatures and the things they were trying to take. Every night a different one came, no matter where I put the box they came. There were five of them and they came in order over and over again. The last one, a purple monster, would only come after me. Those nights were the worst. I would close my door and hide under the covers. The monster would sit outside my door all night, scratching to get in. I didn't want my mother involved so I didn't tell her.

"That wasn't the only thing that happened that was strange. I began to hear creaking outside my door and shadows in the halls. Once I even heard a car running outside. All these things together terrified me and scarred me. One night I decided that I had enough. I took three of the four things the monsters were after and went out into the night. I hid those things all over. One I even hid in a little play house my father made for me. That's why I don't like toys. I am constantly afraid that those things will show up again if any are in the house. When I got home I hid a clock in the basement. I expected to see one of the monsters, but I didn't. Nights passed, and they didn't reappear. I didn't even hear creaks or see shadows after that. I did it, I won."

"So what happened then?" Hazel asked.

"Nothing's ever over. Through my teen years I started to forgive my father and see things clearly again, but then my mother died. We never truly patched up our relationship. Her passing hurt me more than I ever thought it would. I was alone, and once again scared. Though this was a different scared. I didn't know how to take care of the house or how to be an adult, I never bothered to learn. For several years people came to the house, telling me they were people I had to pay to keep the house or to pay the bills. I was scammed on several occasions, losing most of what my parents left me. I wised up quickly enough and stood up to them, finding out who was telling the truth and who wasn't. I didn't trust anybody after that. It was years before I went out to do more than get food. I started taking walks around, and that was how I met my husband. He worked at the grocery, but had big plans to get into the furniture business. He wanted to work for the business, Matthew Norwich Furniture that my father started. When he realized who I was he asked me questions every time I came in, as if I had something to do with that business."

Mrs. Norwich laughed. Hazel smiled.

"We got to know each other and he eventually asked me to marry him. I said yes of course. He began selling furniture. I was so proud to have somebody in that business again. It didn't take him long until he was running the whole thing. He chose to change his last name to Norwich, which is my maiden name. He thought Norwich would make people trust him more since he was running Norwich Furniture. Anyway a few years later we had a daughter, your mother. I was at once scared that she might have some strange occurrences, but I attributed it to my paranoia." Mrs. Norwich's smile faded. "Ten years later Frederick, my husband, became sick. No doctor could tell what the matter was. I dreamed of my father every night. He was always trying to speak to me, but for some reason I could never hear him. That's when the nightmare started over. One night I was going to my room from the bathroom when I heard your mother talking in the room you sleep in now. I opened the door and saw my old doll on her bed. Everything came back to me. I lost control and screamed at her, taking the doll away. Under her bed were the rest of the things I hid. I didn't know what to do.

"I calmed myself down and thought through it. It wasn't so bad that she had found the things. I didn't hide them very well. The next day Frederick died. That night I heard your mother talking to something again. I grabbed her, locked her in a closet and ran to hide the things again. For some reason that feeling that I was responsible came back full strength. I ran out into the night once more and hid the things all over. One was in the play house again and one was in the basement. After that everything fell apart again. I sent your mother away to live with Frederick's parents until I could get myself together. I gave her the clock and the box in hopes that they would never reunite with the other things. I lived in a state of depression for years, unable to pull myself out. Before I knew it your mother was married and living on her own. She never left me, she always wanted to come and see me. I never wanted her to come, I felt so bad about what I did. I wrote to a friend that I had when I was younger. I told her everything that happened. She was my way of venting. But I still felt bad."

"You blame yourself for too much." Hazel said. "You weren't right, and you realize that now."

"Everything was fine until you came. I don't mean to say I don't want you here. I told your father to let you come. I didn't want him to tell you that I wanted you here because I figured you wouldn't want to come. I wanted you to think that you were coming to help me or to help your mother get better. The thing is, your mother is sick, and it seems so similar to what happened to Frederick. I didn't want you to go through what I did or what I and your mother went through. I was vainly trying to protect you from death and its aftermath, to keep your life as full as it can be."

Hazel chuckled. "You can't protect someone from life. I think that you had the wrong reaction to your father's death. Nobody told you that everything was alright and that it was fine to feel sad and mad so when the next death came you continued with the wrong reactions. It would be like if one of my teachers didn't correct me, I would go around making the same mistake."

"You don't get it and you can't unless you've gone through it. And that's why I wanted you here."

"Well I hope you realize that you can't blame everything on yourself." Hazel patted her grandmother's shoulder.

"I do, and you know what? I actually feel a lot better now that I've talked this over."

"Well good, I'm glad I could help."

They both laughed.

"I put them back where they belong and I hope you don't go looking for them again. It's best that you don't."

Hazel sighed. "Alright."

"You know what Hazel? I'm glad you came. When you arrived I thought you would be like the kids I see around town, but you weren't. You are well behaved."

"Maybe they are too, you have to get to know them."

"Well either way, you helped me feel better from the start. I'm kind of sorry that you have to go home so soon."

"Maybe I'll come back next year."

"I hope so." Mrs. Norwich said. "Well, its time I go back, you stay as long as you need to. I'll have dinner ready when you get back."

Mrs. Norwich got up and went out through one of the tunnels. Hazel sat for a few minutes longer. She felt so much better now that she knew everything. Suddenly an idea came to her. She got up and crawled through the tunnel. Once outside she waited to let her grandmother get back to town and then ran down the road. Hazel jogged through the streets of the town looking for a phone. There weren't any payphones. There was only one place that she thought she could find a public phone. A short time later Hazel walked into the library and went up to the desk.

"Excuse me, Miss." Hazel said to the rude librarian.

"What?" the librarian asked rudely.

"I need to use your phone, do you have one?"

"Want to leave here early?"

Hazel ignored the question. "Do you have one?"

"Yes, it's right over there."

Hazel went to the end of the desk and picked up the receiver of the phone. She dialed her father's cell number. The first few times she got it wrong, but in the end he picked up.

"Hello." Mr. Winbolt said over the phone.

"Dad, its Hazel."

"Hazel! Did your grandmother get a phone?"

"No, I'm at the library. When are you getting here?"

"Well, I thought I would come up on the thirtieth and stay the night, if that's alright with your grandmother."

"Cool, can you bring up the clock in my room?"

"That old thing, does your grandmother want it back?"

"No, well yeah sure."

He laughed. "All right, I'll see you then."

"Thanks bye."

Hazel hung up the phone. The feeling of wanting to follow the little animals was back. Which brought her to another question: why had she seen animals while her grandmother saw monsters? Hazel remembered seeing the book from the bookcase in the house. There were little monsters on that, maybe there was a connection.

The night passed without further incident. Hazel had dinner with Mrs. Norwich. Neither said anything about their previous encounter in the playground. She had a strong feeling that the clock would finally resolve things. Hazel went to bed that night making a promise to herself that she would not say anything to Mrs. Norwich. She wasn't sure how much her grandmother could take if the matter was discussed further before the clock arrived. Hazel had another strong feeling that things were bound to get better if the clock was with them. She didn't know why, but she didn't care. While Mrs. Norwich ran from the feelings she got, Hazel was going to embrace hers.

# Chapter XIV

Before Hazel knew it the calendar read August 30. She had successfully avoided any mention of the objects or the little animals, or even the box which was in ashes in the fireplace. Her plan had worked so far, but the most important part, and the most delicate part, was coming up fast. That night her father was coming with the clock and everything had to work perfectly from there. She still didn't have any idea as to what exactly was going to happen, but the force driving her was too strong to argue with.

After lunch on the thirtieth Hazel stood in her room. She had just finished packing her things and was looking at the pile of yarn on her nightstand. She didn't do much with it over the last few weeks. The carrier for it was gone, but she managed to fit it into her bag. Her bed was made; room clean, all that was left was to wait for her father. They were supposed to stay the night, though Hazel had a feeling that Mrs. Norwich wouldn't want them in the house after she figured out what Hazel had planned. The items were still out in the woods but Hazel knew where to find them all.

The afternoon was spent nervously sitting in a chair watching the clock. Every few minutes Mrs. Norwich would come in and ask what was wrong. Hazel simply said that she was nervous about starting school in a few days. She had second thoughts about what she was about to do when she saw how happy Mrs. Norwich seemed to be. The mood she was in before disappeared as soon as the objects did.

Dinner came and there was still no sign of Mr. Winbolt, he must have left after work. Mrs. Norwich made more potato soup, it was Hazel's favorite. They ate silently for some time, until Mrs. Norwich started asking questions.

"So what are you going to do when you get home?" She asked pleasantly.

"Oh," Hazel took a deep breath, "I don't know. I guess I will see how my mother is doing."

"Are you sure you're alright with all that?"

"I don't think she's going anywhere any time soon . . . it's just a feeling I get."

"That's good, but you have to see that sometimes things don't go our way."

Hazel went to the kitchen to get more soup to avoid the question. When she got back Mrs. Norwich was waiting expectantly for a response.

"I have a feeling that she'll be fine." Hazel said nervously, she was visibly shaking.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm just a little cold."

"Do you want me to turn down the air?"

"No, but I was wondering, when did you get air conditioning?" Hazel would have asked anything to get the conversation moving to something else.

"That happened about fifteen years ago. Your father got some people to come out and do the whole thing, it was great."

"It must have been hard to get it into such an old house."

"No, not really, well actually I have no idea. If you want to know more about it you should ask your father when he gets here."

Hazel smiled. "I will."

Hazel helped her grandmother clean up the kitchen. She then went back to sitting in the living room. A few minutes later Mrs. Norwich came in.

"His car is pulling up now."

"Oh good."

Nausea was starting to set in. Hazel got up and went into the kitchen, afraid she would actually throw up. She tried to think of what good could come of what she was going to do, but all she could think of was her grandmother screaming at her again. The door opened and Hazel heard her father's voice.

"Evening Annabella, how are things?"

"Good, your daughter is quite the character. She really is something. I can say that I've enjoyed her visit."

"Great." Mr. Winbolt replied. He sounded like he didn't quite believe that the two of them got along. "Where is she?"

"Oh she was here just a minute ago. Hazel!" She called.

Hazel slowly stepped from the kitchen. Her father still had his tie on from work and was carrying a sleeping bag under his arm. Mrs. Norwich noticed this as well.

"A sleeping bag? Don't you think my beds are any good?"

Mr. Winbolt laughed. "I didn't want you to have to change the blankets tomorrow."

Mrs. Norwich sighed and took the sleeping bag from him. Hazel gave her father a hug and then tried to get away.

"Where you going, Haze?" He took her arm.

"Oh, I don't know."

"So your grandmother was telling me that you had a good time. . ."

"Yes, it was great."

"Hey, guess what? Your mother is doing better."

"Really?" Hazel forgot all her nerves for a moment.

"She's still sick, but the doctor says he sees improvement. She's spending the night at the hospital; they can do more for her there. She really wanted to come, but the doctor said it wasn't a good idea."

Mrs. Norwich frowned. "Still don't know what it is?"

Mr. Winbolt shook his head. "No."

Mrs. Norwich glanced at Hazel, who tried to avoid eye contact.

"I'm sure things will turn around." Mr. Winbolt declared.

Mrs. Norwich made Mr. Winbolt a sandwich and some potato soup. They sat in the kitchen and talked. Hazel went back up to her room. She sat on the bed and looked out the window. How long would it take her to collect the items? Hopefully not long. She took a deep breath and got up, heading for the stairs. In the kitchen she found her father sitting alone.

"Where's Mrs. Norwich?" Hazel asked, looking around.

"The bathroom. Hey the clocks in the car if you want to get it out."

"Yes, please."

Mr. Winbolt threw his daughter a key ring with various keys on it. She went straight outside, but didn't stop at the car.

It was humid that night. Hazel pressed forward, down the path between the trees, towards town. She felt lonely not having a little animal to follow. She hoped that she could get back before anybody missed her.

When the lights of town became visible hazel took a turn to the right. It wasn't long before she could hear the soft sound of water lapping against rocks. The little hill had clumps of grass and dirt all around it. Hazel dug her hands into the top and pulled out a small, dirt covered coin. She then washed the coin and her hands off in the river and started back toward the house. One down.

Back at the house Hazel stood at the door facing the path, looked to her left, and started towards the trees. It was just as dark and mysterious in the forest as ever. She went in the general direction that she had gone the first time. Her hands were out in front of her to feel for trees or low hanging branches, and her feet stepped down slowly so as to avoid tripping. Deep into the trees she found the small clearing. She was glad to find it on her own this time.

Slowly she crept up to the small pool of water, only to find that the doll was not there. Had Mrs. Norwich forgotten where it was? Or did she mean to put it somewhere different so Hazel couldn't find it? She began to panic. What if it was somewhere completely different? There was no time to go all over the place looking for it.

Hazel walked the edge of the clearing, looking all around in hopes of finding the doll. There was no sign of it. She sat in the grass, defeated.

"What am I supposed to do now?" She said quietly to herself. "They're probably looking for me already." A shiver of fear went through her at the thought of her father going around looking for her. "I need to go back."

She placed her head down on the grass and looked up at the stars. She could see more of them than she could at home. They were so beautiful up there, shining down on her. If only she had a camera. She would have taken a picture of the sky and then put it on the ceiling of her room at home so she could always see the stars at night. She sighed and was about to get up when something caught her eye. There was an arm poking out of one of the trees that surrounded her. She stood up and had a look. About four feet above her head, in a hole in the tree, was one of the arms of the doll. Excitement filled her once again. She jumped up and tried to reach it but was too short.

Hazel grabbed onto the bark with her hands and jumped, wrapping her legs around the trunk. She was too small for them to reach all the way around. With great effort she lifted herself up by her hands, moved her legs up a little, and was a few inches higher. This continued until she was level with the hole. She reached inside and pulled the doll out, letting it fall to the ground. She launched herself from the tree and landed safely on the ground. Her hands were cut and ached tremendously, but she was as happy as can be. She had two of the objects. Two more to go and one was already at the house.

Tired and sore, Hazel wandered through the trees until she was back at the house. She listened for her father's call. It never came; they hadn't noticed she was gone yet. The doll was placed on the side of the house and covered with a few dead leaves that were nearby. Hazel then went to the back of the house. She crept up to the kitchen window and looked in. Mr. Winbolt and Mrs. Norwich were talking at the small breakfast table. Mrs. Norwich laughed at something Hazel's father said. She looked so different than when Hazel first met her, so much nicer.

Silently Hazel went away from the window towards the forest. She took one look back at the house. While the first floor appeared warm and inviting the upper floors looked dark and sinister to her. She could see her bedroom window from there. It was dark, but in the window a shadow came into view. It was a different sort of darkness then the rest of the night. It almost looked as if a person were looking down at her. A wave of fear went through her. She turned away from the window, shaking off the feeling and attributing it to imagination.

Once in the trees she tried to remember the way the horse had led her. Either she had a great memory, or the strange force was pushing her along because she found the corridor of trees and ivy before too long. It was much quieter than the last time she was there when a storm was blowing everything about.

The little playhouse was a sad sight. It was so overgrown and falling apart. Hazel kind of wished that she had a place like that to play in. She sighed in relief when she found the toy iron right where it was the first time. A few minutes later she was back at the house with the three items.

Hazel slowly opened the door and went straight to the basement, her arms full of things that were not allowed in the house. She put the objects down in the center of the floor and went back upstairs. She was near the front door when a voice came from behind her.

"Where are you going?"

Hazel turned and saw her grandmother standing near the basement door. The smile was gone, replaced by a frown that Hazel had hoped to never see again.

"I just put my stuff in the car but forgot to lock it." She held up the keys her father gave her.

"You're staying the night." Mrs. Norwich pointed out.

"Oh yeah, I forgot. Let me just go out and get my stuff."

Mrs. Norwich looked around as if expecting to see something that wasn't there. "You didn't . . . never mind just go get your stuff."

"I will."

Mrs. Norwich went back into the kitchen. Hazel groaned and went back outside. She hated lying.

The car door unlocked with a click. Hazel found the clock in the backseat. She pulled it out and locked the door. She would have to be careful bringing it in. It would be hard to hide it if Mrs. Norwich was anywhere in sight.

Hazel tiptoed through the living room. She could hear the grownups talking in the kitchen about current events. Her hand slipped on the basement door. The noise filled the quiet house. She froze, waiting to hear if anyone was coming. When she felt it safe she went down the stairs and put the clock with the other items on the floor of the basement. It was time.

With bated breath Hazel waited for something to happen . . . anything to happen . . . even just a sign that she did something right. The waiting grew tiresome. Hazel went back upstairs, thinking things over. Did she forget an item? No, unless one of the animals forgot to show her one.

And then it hit her. The little bird, it had tried to show her something in Mrs. Norwich's room. There must be something there that Hazel was supposed to find. She ran the rest of the way up the stairs to the first floor, and then ran up to the second floor. At first she was nervous going into her grandmother's room, she had only been in there once before.

It was the nicest room in the house. After all she had eighty some years to get it the way she wanted it. There was a plush green rug, a four poster bed, and a dresser with little figurines on it. Hazel picked up each of the figurines, hoping that she would somehow know when she picked up the right one. Most were little porcelain animals, some were people. There were little kids on a swing set, or sitting on a bench, or just standing there alone. Hazel picked up all of them but none gave her any type of reaction.

And then she realized something else. Mrs. Norwich said there were only four items, and besides that she hated them so much there was no way she would put one in her room. So that was it then, there was nothing else to look for. She had found all the items. But what of the little bird? It frustrated Hazel so much to not know the answer.

# Chapter XV

Hazel closed the door to her grandmother's room and sauntered downstairs. She avoided the kitchen and took a seat in the living room, near the fireplace. The remains of the box were still there; and also . . . something else. At least, something was moving. The ashes of the box were gently being pushed up, as if a bug were crawling around inside. Hazel got on her knees and went closer for a better look.

A little face popped out of the ashes. Hazel jumped and landed on her back. She scrambled up to see what was happening. A little bear pulled itself out of the ashes and jumped down to the floor. It looked at her curiously. All Hazel could do was wave at it, her voice was stuck somewhere in her throat.

The little bear turned back towards the fireplace where something else was occurring. A little tan and brown monkey was already half way out of the ashes. It too jumped down and stood next to the bear. Hazel's eyes were already watching the fireplace to see a tiny horse come out, followed by a boar and a bird. They all stood in front of Hazel for a moment, and then began to run in all directions, leaving sooty footprints all over the rug.

Hazel was too shocked to do anything at first. Something was finally happening. This had to be good, but how was she supposed to keep her grandmother from seeing the rug? She decided to let the animals do what they wanted to do and would spend her time keeping the adults busy in the kitchen. On her way there she saw that all the animals had come together and started down into the basement. All except the bird, that one headed straight for the kitchen.

Hazel let out a muffled squeak and ran in after it. She came to a halt in front of her father. Her face showed desperation. He looked at his daughter as if she had gone mad.

"Is everything alright, Hazel?"

"Yes . . . yes they are. How are you? I'm sorry I didn't write much after a while; I was so caught up in things here." She said quickly.

"Oh, that's all right. I figured you were just having too good a time and forgot."

"That's exactly it."

Mrs. Norwich stood up suddenly. Her face was distorted with rage, but it appeared that she didn't know what to be mad at. Hazel knew that Mrs. Norwich could sense the objects and maybe even the little animals.

"What have you been doing, Hazel?" She asked, trying to sound pleasant in front of Mr. Winbolt.

"Nothing, I haven't been doing anything." Hazel answered calmly. If she had learned anything in her time at the Swansberry Hill House, it was how to say something calmly when she felt anything but.

She turned to Mr. Winbolt. "Excuse me; I need to go check on something real quick. Why don't you go put the sleeping bag back in your car?"

"Alright." Mr. Winbolt took it from the table and left the kitchen. The little bird hopped around Mrs. Norwich's feet, thankfully not making any noise.

Mrs. Norwich looked angrily at Hazel. "What did you do?"

"Nothing –"

"I have that feeling again; you know which one I'm talking about. Did you bring those horrible things back here?"

"No." Hazel lied forcefully.

Mrs. Norwich left the kitchen. The little bird followed close behind. A few seconds later Hazel heard her name shouted.

She went into the living room to see her grandmother pointing at the floor with the little sooty footprints. "What is this?"

"I don't know; this is the first time I've seen that."

Mrs. Norwich looked to where they led and went straight to the basement door, disappearing down the steps. Hazel was too afraid to follow.

The ceiling creaked somewhere up above. Footsteps could be heard. Was Mr. Winbolt upstairs? At that moment Hazel heard the car door open outside. If he was outside, who was upstairs? Hazel quickly followed her grandmother downstairs. Hazel found her grandmother at the foot of the stairs, making strange noises and gesturing around and waving her arms around wildly.

The little animals were moving all the objects around the floor as though they had to be in a specific spot. To Mrs. Norwich it must have looked as though they were moving on their own, reminding her of the little monsters that moved them before.

Hazel came down the stairs and put her arm on her grandmother's shoulder for comfort. It didn't work. Mrs. Norwich darted into the middle of the room and grabbed the first item she could get at, the dime. She then pushed Hazel out of the way and hurried up the stairs and out of sight.

The little monkey began to shriek loudly. Hazel wished that her grandmother had taken any of the other items instead. The monkey seemed to be the most volatile. All the other animals stopped what they were doing and watched. The monkey scampered all over the basement, looking for the dime. It must not have realized that it was taken upstairs. After a minute of the monkey shrieking and running about it stopped and looked up. Hazel did the same. There was nothing there, what was it looking at?

A while passed, the monkey started slowly for the stairs. Hazel, who had been too dazed by the whole thing to react, blocked its path. She was met by another shriek and quickly got out of its way. The monkey went up the stairs, hopping from step to step. The other animals continued to watch.

Hazel followed it up the stairs and onto the first floor. It then went for the front door. The door stood ajar, the little bird was in the doorway, looking out into the darkness. Hazel saw her dad's legs sticking out of the backseat of the car while he looked for something. For an instant everything was still and quiet. And then the monkey began to shake. Hazel thought of picking it up, but was afraid of seeing another vision from the past.

The monkey shook more vigorously and began growling, and then right before her eyes, the monkey shrieked and started to grow. It's tan and brown body turned black. It didn't stop growing until it was a good eight feet tall. It roared deeply. Hazel stepped back but found the wall, she didn't dare take her eyes off the creature long enough to find a way to escape. The monkey then took off into the night, pounding the ground with every step.

Hazel panicked. "What are we going to do?" She asked the bird. "I can't let it get to my grandmother, you have to help me."

As if on command the little bird started shaking. Hazel threw her hands out in front of her as if it would help stop the transformation. A few seconds later a huge black bird stood in front of her, though this one was not angry. It spread its wings, which were at least twenty feet wide. It rose slowly into the sky and grabbed Hazel with its large talons. It didn't hurt, and this time she did not see anything from the past.

Hazel was lifted high into the air, above the house and above the trees. She looked down to see her father still searching for something in the car.

"Did you already get the clock, Hazel, I can't find it." She heard him call from the ground.

The bird gave a mighty caw and propelled itself forward. Hazel wished for better circumstances to be flying for the first time. The warm wind blew her hair back and forced her to squint down into the dark forest. She searched for her grandmother or the monkey, but it would be too hard to see them at night.

It felt so great to be up there above the world, to feel the rush of flying and the fright of danger all at once. The bird beat its wings against the air and went even faster. The lights from town appeared as twinkling stars on the ground. The giant monkey could be seen in one of the streets, sniffing the ground in search of Mrs. Norwich and the dime. Hazel thought the bird would go down to where the monkey was, but instead it flew right over it and continued. The town disappeared beneath them and still the bird flew on. A few seconds later it descended quickly, reminding Hazel of a rollercoaster. A foot from the ground it let her go.

Hazel stood in the old playground, lit only by the half moon in the sky. She instantly knew why she was there. She crawled through one of the tunnels and found her grandmother huddled in the little room. It was pitch black; she could only hear her grandmother's shallow breathing.

"Mrs. Norwich." Hazel said quietly.

She heard a quick intake of breath. "What do you want?" Mrs. Norwich asked unpleasantly.

Hazel sighed. "I want to apologize for what I did."

"You brought those evil creatures back after I told you to never go looking for these things again."

"I don't see evil creatures; to me they are cute little animals."

Mrs. Norwich scoffed. "Is that what you kids call cute these days?"

"I don't know what they are, but to you they appeared as monsters and to me they appear as little animals. I'm telling you they mean no harm. I've followed them through the trees several times, and they haven't harmed me yet."

Mrs. Norwich shifted around on the hard floor. "Just wait, soon you will feel like everything is your fault too."

"No, that was just you. I am beginning to think that they only make us feel more of what we already feel. You felt responsible, and so you feel more responsible. I always try to help my mother by being strong and they make me feel stronger. I know they want to help, and I need your help for that to happen. You have to give me the dime and let them help."

"I am telling you they don't want to help."

"Then let me help you. I know you have an overwhelming urge to feel like you are responsible for everything that's gone wrong in your life, but you aren't. Your father, your mother, your husband, they all want you to know that."

"How do you know?"

"I think I may have met one of them. A few weeks ago I was lost in the forest with no hope of finding a way out. I saw a man, and he led me out. I can't explain it to you, you wouldn't understand unless it happened to you, but you have to believe me that the animals are here to help, just like that man was. I think they are working together."

There was something in Hazel's voice that Mrs. Norwich found comforting. "Are you sure?" She asked as a child would ask if the boogeyman isn't real.

"Yes, I am certain. The only way to help you is if you give me that dime and come home. They need you to complete whatever they are doing. And I promise you that if you just let them do it you will feel so much better."

"Are you sure?" She repeated.

Hazel smiled kindly, though it wasn't seen. "Yes, because I get a strong feeling too, and that feeling tells me to be strong, and to trust the animals."

Hazel felt a hand on hers and then felt a warm metal coin.

"I trust you, Hazel. And if you think everything is alright, then I'll come back with you."

"Thank you."

They made their way out of the tunnel. The black bird was waiting for them. A roar filled the air. The monkey came rushing into the playground. The bird turned and spread its wings. The monkey tried to jump over the bird, which caught the monkey by the tail and threw it back down.

"What's going on?" Mrs. Norwich asked in a panic.

"Nothing, here, just sit in the tunnel and I will get you when its time."

Mrs. Norwich did as she was told.

The bird and monkey wrestled on the ground, the air was filled with roars and shrieks. Hazel knew that only one thing would stop it. She cautiously made her way into the fray, avoiding talons, wings, and paws. She held the dime out for the monkey, but it didn't see it. A thin tail came out of nowhere and struck Hazel, sending her back against the wall of one of the tunnels. Her back ached tremendously. In her anger of being hit she threw the dime into the skirmish. It hit the monkey and it froze instantly. The bird pushed the monkey to ground. The monkey picked up the dime and shrank back to its original size and color.

Hazel helped her grandmother out of the tunnel and over to the giant bird. She knew Mrs. Norwich couldn't see it.

"You're going to have to trust me already. You are standing next to a giant black bird that will fly you home. I am going to walk and I will meet you there."

"Giant birds? I thought you said these were little animals."

"Well they were, but two of them became big . . . you know what? I'll tell you later."

Mrs. Norwich shook her head. "I am not going to fly home with an invisible bird unless you come along as well."

"I don't think there's room, unless I fly on its back."

I minute later they took off. Hazel sat on the birds back with the little monkey holding the dime on her shoulder while Mrs. Norwich was carried by the talons. She found it to be less strange if she was carried by an invisible bird rather than sitting on one. She kept her eyes closed and hollered unintelligible words every time she tried to open them.

Hazel was relieved. It was time to finish the adventure once and for all. She enjoyed the flight as long as it lasted, and was a little bummed when it ended. The bird let Mrs. Norwich down slowly and then landed. Hazel slid off its back, thanked it, and watched it turn back into the tiny bird it was originally. She picked it up and carried it inside.

# Chapter XVI

Mr. Winbolt was waiting in the living room. "Where were you two?"

"We just went to town for a bit, Miles." Mrs. Winbolt said anxiously.

"Well, whatever, at least you're back now. Hazel, did you find the clock?"

"Yes." Hazel answered.

"Oh, good."

Hazel led Mrs. Norwich down into the basement, Mr. Winbolt followed curiously.

"What's all this?" He asked when he saw the items on the floor.

"Dad, I don't have time to fill you in, but I think something is about to happen."

"How do you mean?"

Before Hazel could answer the little monkey jumped from her shoulder and joined the rest of the animals. They once again started shifting the items about on the floor. Mr. Winbolt exclaimed excitedly as he watched the items move without anyone touching them. Hazel told him to be quiet and watch. The little bird began jumping up and down in front of Mrs. Norwich again, who was wringing her hands nervously. Something finally dawned on Hazel.

"Mrs. Norwich I think you are a part of this."

"What?"

"I think you are needed. I don't think that they can finish what they are doing without you."

"No, no no no, I don't think that I can do that. Do you know how long I've dreaded this kind of stuff?"

Hazel smiled sweetly. Mrs. Norwich looked deep into her granddaughter's eyes and saw something there again. Something beyond comfort, more of a certainty that there was nothing she would ever have to worry about again.

Annabella Norwich stepped slowly and carefully amongst the moving items on the floor. Everything was still. She stopped in the center with the items forming a ring around her. Almost instantly the little animals moved to the side and watched.

A low hum started somewhere inside the room, the exact spot could not be identified. It grew louder and condensed into a solid noise directly in front of Mrs. Norwich. Something began to happen. A round light, such as the kind one mysteriously captures in photographs, appeared before them. It radiated with light from its core and slowly moved down to the floor. It exploded into light that caused the three people to shut their eyes. When they opened them again a man stood before them. His skin and suit were misty and transparent. Gradually he became solid and looked no more or less real than the others who stood in the basement that night.

Mrs. Norwich held herself. Her breathing was shallow and she was crying.

"Daddy." She said as though ten years old again.

Old Mr. Norwich looked exactly as he had when Hazel saw him in the vision.

"Oh, Anna, I have been waiting for this for so long."

"You have?"

"Yes," He said softly, "I never wanted you to feel the way you did. That night when I died I told you that I would never leave you, and I haven't. I've always been in this house, waiting for you while you lived your life."

His energy resonated throughout the room. Everyone present felt a little calmer, a little more assured that everything was right with the world. Even Mrs. Norwich, who had never felt anything like that before. Everything else disappeared from their minds. Only the small room and Mr. Norwich existed for them.

"What happened? Nobody ever knew." Mrs. Norwich asked through tears.

"It was as you suspected. I was going too fast, I wanted to get back as soon as possible, and I lost control. I crashed into the water and the current pulled me down river."

"Why the monsters? Why did you want to scare me?"

"No, I never wanted to scare you. I was trapped. I died so suddenly that I left some of myself in this world, with you. I couldn't move on or communicate with you so I got the help of other spirits. You see, these spirits here were trying to help me. My soul was still with you, Anna. In the toys you played with and in you. They were trying to reunite them and so were trying to reunite my soul so I could move on. They are the spirits of animals, but cannot appear that way to the living. They appear as the seer's mind portrays them. You were always afraid of that book that I read you, remember the one with the little monsters? And so your fear at the time turned them into those monsters."

Hazel looked over and saw the little animals watching intently.

"Hazel on the other hand, sweet Hazel," Mr. Norwich looked at her standing next to her father, "Her mind knows hope and healing, and so they appeared as little animals from a book she was looking at, closer to their real selves. I am sorry about the monkey, that one is easily angered." He laughed.

"Why did I feel like I was the one that killed you?" Mrs. Norwich asked. She still sounded frightened.

Mr. Norwich sighed. "That was my fault. I saw how you detested the spirits, and so I tried to push you along, by entering your mind and attempting to alter your dreams so that you would see yourself saving me. Instead your mind twisted them to show you killing me. I tried the same thing with your daughter, and then with Hazel, though much more cautiously. It worked better. I feel that I gave them strength and propulsion so that they felt that what they were doing was good and just."

Mrs. Norwich laughed through her tears. "You were helping them, and I was messing it all up. I am so sorry."

"It's all right." Mr. Norwich put his arms around his daughter. "It's over now. I have to admit though, as long as my spirit remained in this house, you felt uneasy. I was unable to be myself when you hid the items away. As each one reentered the house I was able to do a little more. I was able to walk around after one, and able to show myself as a shadow with two more. I think I scared young Hazel when I was talking one night. I was trying to figure out my next move and speaking with souls that passed on before me. It is interesting how the mind works. When I revealed myself to Hazel to help her out of the forest she took comfort in me, but when she could only hear my voice she was terrified."

"Dad," Mrs. Norwich started.

"You want to know what happened to Frederick." Mr. Norwich finished her sentence. "I am afraid to say that I may have had a hand in that as well, though unintentionally. It appeared that a curse was put on this family after my death. Every new generation would lose a parent when they were ten years old, just like you did. Somehow Frederick died and Hazel's mother is very sick. I believe it has to do with the way death works, though I am not sure. From what I have gathered, the parts of my soul that remained behind were different parts of my personality. The clock appears to be my anguish and sorrow. Both Frederick and Hazel's mother have owned it. Or perhaps death works in even stranger ways than I ever imagined. All I can say is that I am truly sorry for everything, and will take my leave now."

Hazel stepped forward. "So you were the creaks and shadows?"

"Yes, I was. I was always interested in what you were doing and how you were putting together the clues and so I watched you. I have to say I think I may have been too clumsy and almost revealed myself."

"Why would that be bad? You could have told me and Mrs. Norwich directly and gotten this over way sooner."

"I'm afraid some people do not do well with sudden visits from spirits. It may have caused much more harm than good."

There was one more thing that Hazel wanted to know. "And of the box?"

"Ah, the little brown box. Yes that was mine many years ago. I used to keep my keys and wallet in there. It was a way for the spirits to get to this world. The box was chosen only because it seemed like a good idea at the time. In retrospect I should have chosen something fireproof. But even trapped spirits can make bad calls occasionally."

Mr. Norwich hugged his daughter again. "Until we meet again, Anna. I believe your mother will be very sorry that she was not able to communicate to you like this. And to you Hazel, I want to thank you so much for finally bringing the box back and solving the mystery. I am indebted to you always. And to you, Miles. Take good care of my granddaughter and great granddaughter. I have a feeling the former will be getting better soon."

With goodbyes out of the way and with one last hug and kiss from Mrs. Norwich, Mr. Norwich faded away.

The basement was still and quiet once again. For a minute they all stood and reflected on what had just happened in their own ways. Mrs. Norwich thanked Hazel and went upstairs. She would need time to process everything before she could tell Hazel how much she really meant to her. Mr. Winbolt hugged his daughter, admitted to having an experience of a lifetime, and also went upstairs. Hazel walked about the room, thinking everything over. It was she that helped save a soul and possibly another. She couldn't believe how much better she felt. The stress of the last month, and her mother's sickness, melted away as if never there. Hazel went to each of the items and stroked them affectionately. She had done it. She had put together clues from nothing and found that the mystery of Swansberry House was greater than anything she had ever thought possible. It was a little sad now that it was over, but she had a feeling that great things were going to happen to her in her life.

The little animals had disappeared for the last time. Hazel was alright with that, they did their jobs and could rest. She made her way up to her room after a while. It had been a wild summer.

The next day the sun dawned brighter than ever. The strange feelings that Hazel originally got from the Swansberry Hill House were gone. Mrs. Norwich woke late, but was in a better mood than Hazel had ever seen her. It was a wonderful sight. She made breakfast with Hazel's help and after a few mishaps when several eggs landed on the floor, they all enjoyed their last breakfast together for a while. Hazel promised to be back for Christmas. She couldn't wait to see how the house would be decorated.

Mr. Winbolt promised that his wife would be there for Christmas. He got a call in the night from a very surprised nurse about how Hazel's mother had jumped right out of bed better than ever.

Sadly the day came to an end and Hazel was packed in the car with all her things. Mrs. Norwich, now welcome to being called Grandma, helped buckle Hazel into the car, kissed her on her head, and stood back from the car, waving.

"You better come back for Christmas." She said as Mr. Winbolt started the engine.

"Don't worry, I will be. Goodbye, Grandma, take care."

Hazel was sad about leaving, but knew it wouldn't be for too long. She pushed herself up as high as she could to look out the back window. She watched her grandmother and the mysterious house grow smaller into the distance, until they disappeared for good.

As the car bumped and rattled down the path in the trees Mr. Winbolt asked his daughter a question she had already been asked several times.

"What are you going to do when you get home?"

Hazel thought about it for a moment before replying. "I don't know, but I know I will have a good time doing it with you and mom."

The car found flat land and continued towards home.

