Crazy
old lady Frazier, that’s what they called her. She sat at the window in
that dark house rocking, rocking all day. Nobody ever saw her outside, just
by that window watching everyone. Was she crazy? Everyone thought she
was. We all thought the house was haunted too.
My
friend Harriet lived across the street from her and when I’d go over to play
we’d see the old lady sitting there staring. It creeped me out and I felt
scared. They say she lost her mind when her husband died but I never
heard how many years ago it was. I was a child then and time meant
nothing to me. Everyone grown up felt old.
That
day after Christmas Harriet had come over to play but mother told me I had to
clean up my room before I could play. Harriet was allowed in though. I
was sitting on the floor in my room trying to put things away but I had so many
toys I didn’t know where to put what. I got everything I wanted for
Christmas and even things I didn’t – like that perfumed soap set.
“Harriet,
let’s wrap this soap and toothbrush set up and you can take it over to old Mrs Frazier’s
house, ok?”, I asked.
Harriet
eagerly bobbed her head up and down with excitement. I don’t think
anything scared her.
“Let’s
write a note and put it in the box,” Harriet suggested.
“What
should we say, Merry Christmas to the craziest lady in town?”
We
hoo ha’d with laughter and agreed that wouldn’t be nice.
But
the note we wrote was even worse. We put it in the box and wrapped it up
in pretty paper. “Here, I said, you take it over and come back and let me
know what happens.”
While
I waited, I started to get this dark feeling in my stomach. It hurt and I
started crying and bent over in pain. I guess it was one of my first
feelings of sheer guilt, although I didn’t recognize it at the time. Then I
started thinking what if this made the crazy lady even crazier and she chased
Harriet with a knife? What if she killed my friend? I was scaring myself
so bad I started shaking and I peeked out the window to see if Harriet was
running back.
“Sarah
are you cleaning your room?” Mother yelled from the living room.
“Yes
Mommie” I answered as I moved some toys around making cleaning up sounds.
“You better be or else,” she threatened.
What
was taking Harriet so long; I worried when I looked out again and didn’t see
her. What if she’s laying on the sidewalk bleeding? I wanted to
rush out and rescue her but Mother wouldn’t let me out and if I told her what
we did, she’d ground me forever.
Finally
after what felt like an hour Harriet came back with the box of wrapped up soap
and scents.
“Oh
am I glad to see you, “I almost cried, “I thought maybe she was running after
you with a knife or something.”
Harriet
had this almost unreadable expression on her face as she told me how she walked
up the dark steps, rang the doorbell and Mrs. Frazier opened the door. She
thrust the box in her hand and said, “Merry Christmas.”
“Oh
aren’t you the sweetest thing, thank you, “the old lady said smiling and
started to open the package.
Harriet
turned and walked away but when she got to the sidewalk suddenly the box sailed
over her head and landed in front of her. “You’re a nasty little girl,” the old
lady yelled, “don’t ever come near my house again!” And she slammed the
door. Harriet picked up the box and brought it back to me.
I
don’t know whatever happened to that box but I took out the note, tore it in
little pieces and threw it away. I didn’t want Mother finding it and
asking questions. But it will forever haunt me. I’d written “Here’s a box
of soap and perfume for you because you stink”
This
is a true story and every time I see a house like that I remember poor old Mrs.
Frazier, who was grieving and lonely after her husband died. Is this what the
kids in the neighborhood would think of me if my husband died – that I was a
crazy old lady who never left her house?
Karma's a bitch!
This blog was inspired by my writer friend Lori L Clark who posts a picture a day for anyone to use as a writing exercise. Writing exercises bubbles up the creativity within me and I love it. Thanks Lori.
