The Little Brown Box

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 cou
ldn’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.