Chapter One: The Box in the Attic
Once upon a time, in a small village not too far from a large shopping mall, there lived a boy named Stanley Green. He had everything in the world a child could ever want or need. And so, since the first night of Chanukah was beginning at sunset that evening, Stanley's parents wondered what more they could possibly give him.
As usual, Stanley's relatives were coming. The house always got hot, noisy, and stuffy. Great-Aunt Sophie would give mushy, wet kisses and would pinch his cheeks. Uncle Max would squash him in a bear hug and breathe hot onion breath on his face. When his younger cousins Nathan, Ernie, and Emma came over, they always fought and yelled, and made a mess of all his things. That meant a lot of picking up and cleaning up after them. And Grandpa Abe, who always told the best stories the rest of the year, became quiet and sad during Chanukah. Stanley just wasn't looking forward to the holiday season.
Stanley's mother, Mrs. Green, hummed to herself as she covered the dining-room table with Grandma's lace tablecloth and linen napkins. Then she began to prepare for the Chanukah meal.
The kitchen buzzed with the sound of mixing and grating. Stanley peeled potato after potato. He grated so many potatoes that his knuckles were almost as raw as the potatoes he had peeled. His mother paused from chopping onions. She opened the kitchen window a bit and breathed in the cool night air. "Ah, those onions are sharp," she said, wiping her eyes as she added the onions to the latke batter. It was heaped high as a mountain in a ceramic bowl. "My tears could fill this bowl," she laughed.
As Stanley peeled and grated more potatoes, and applesauce bubbled in a big pot on the stove, his mother suddenly hit her forehead with the back of her hand. "Oh, no! I forgot to buy cinnamon for the applesauce! Stanley, I need you to help out while I run to the corner store." She continued as she put on her coat and gloves. "You know the large trunk in the attic? Inside is an old box covered with lots of foreign stamps. Grandpa Abe asked us to get it out for him this Chanukah. It would be a great help to me if you would do that. The box is from your Great-Uncle Velvel."
"Who's Uncle Velvel?" Stanley asked.
"Velvel was Grandpa and Great-Aunt Sophie's brother -- back in the old country."
"Which old country?"
"Romania," his mother answered.
"Uh-oh." Stanley thought of werewolves and vampires, and wondered if the box contained fangs, wolfsbane, or soil from the Transylvanian homeland.
Stanley's mother gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "I'll be back soon. Dad should be home in about an hour. He's leaving work early tonight." And with those words she disappeared into snowflakes swirling outside.
Text copyright © 2001 by Jane Breskin Zalben
