Hazel Ogden Wood

Some of my friends have asked for more info on Hazel, my new doll. I didn't give much info in my last post, so please, if you don't care about dolls, don't read this, you've been warned.

Below is an example of my fiction writing, please don't make fun. I am not a writer, but putting this story together was fun, nonetheless.Hazel’s eyes blinked open and she knew that the snowstorm had finally lifted because light danced across the walls and her little room that she shared with her twin sisters.

Hazel skipped out of bed and dashed across the cold floor to the bed her sisters shared in the corner. Lifting the covers she climbed in and snuggled near the little girls. Hilda woke up quickly, laughing with delight at the return of the sun, but Mary snuggled down deeper into the thick blankets.

“Wake up Mary!” Hazel said bouncing on the thick mattress. “It is Sunday, and Papa promised us a walk in the woods when he had a day off, and when the snowstorm cleared! And look at it out there, it is beautiful,” she said gesturing to the window.

Mary rolled over and closed her eyes tightly. Hazel couldn’t blame her, the bed was warm and soft, and Sunday was the only day they could sleep in. However, Hazel was awake, and there was no hope in the world of returning to sleep on such a beautiful bright day.

She and Hilda slipped out of bed, leaving Mary breathing gently under the heavy covers. The sun made the little room the three girls shared bright and cheerful, and Hazel noticed how red and bright Hilda’s hair looked in the dancing light. Hazel and Mary also shared the same hair color; Mama always said the color reminded her of strawberries.

Hazel hoped from one foot to the other, trying to pull on her slippers before her bare toes froze to the cold floor. Hilda, too, was hopping like a baby bunny while putting her slippers on; and once both girls had their slippers and heart warmers neatly in place, they quietly left the bedroom.

•

Two hours later they were finally on their way up a hill covered with bare aspen trees behind their home. Flump, flump, flump. Hazel loved the way the fresh snow sounded when she walked across it. She also loved spending time with Papa and her sisters, and she loved days like today. After a six-day snowstorm the sky had finally cleared and the sun shone brightly. Hazel looked across the snow at the thousands of sparkles caught by the sun.

Today they were looking for an owl they called Pete, so everyone had to be quiet. Ever since Hazel and her family had moved from England to Park City Utah six years earlier they had loved hearing Pete hoot in the middle of the night. Pete was a large great horned owl that lived right up the mountain from their residence, and he often hooted on the clearest and coldest of nights. Papa had said he had heard Pete the night before and would like to look for him on their walk.

Hazel didn’t mind being quiet on the walk through the woods, she liked to look for animal tracks, watch the stream where the ice had formed, and gaze at the almost purple shadows on the snow. All of these images she would store away in her memory so she could paint them later.

Mary and Hilda however were having a hard time keeping quiet. Papa worked long hours in the silver mines, so it was a treat to spend time with him, and they wanted to tell him all about the stories they made-up. Papa tried to quite the little girls, but they were too excited to be out of the stuffy house, with Papa, breathing the fresh air, and Hazel couldn’t blame them.

Hazel scanned the bare tree branches ahead of her and behind her, and then she saw Pete. He was sitting on a snowy branch about fifteen steps away gazing at them with his huge amber eyes.

“I see him,” she whispered and pointed as Papa and the girls came to a halt. Pete always amazed them, his beauty, strength, mysterious eyes, and way he could turn his head almost all the way around. Hazel looked up at him, and tried to draw him in her head. She was always doing this, breaking things she saw into simple shapes, so she could draw them later.

Hazel had a talent for art, and on cold days when she was cooped up in the house she could usually be found helping Mama, playing dolls with her sisters, or working on her newest painting. Pete was the subject of her latest piece of art, and Hazel was glad to see him today, and refresh her memory on the way his feathers looked.

“Let’s get closer” Mary peeped, “I want a better look.”

Papa motioned to be quiet as he and the girls took a couple of steps closer to the tree Pete was on, and with that, Pete silently lifted his wings, and was gone. Hazel stared after him, always amazed at how quickly and soundlessly Pete could move from place to place.

“Well girls, we had a success, I think Pete was happy to see us,” Papa said. “Let’s head home, I’m getting hungry for lunch.” And with that, Hazel had what she needed to finish the painting of her friend, the Great Horned Owl called Pete.