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.