The mystery of the door occupied my thoughts through-out the night. Dreams of parallel worlds and alternate universes mixed with my normal subconsious adventures—all of which were quite certainly not normal—so that when finally I returned to the real world my first thought was of that door.

My stomach chose that moment to begin growling. Tossing my down comforter and thin polar-fleece blanket aside, I crawled out of bed and headed up to the kitchen, passing my mom hard at work on her computer.

My dad was there preparing dinner and I looked above his head at the green numbers on the microwave: 3:47. “What adventure had you captive this time?” my dad asked.

“Oh, you know. The usual,” I replied, digging in the fridge for something to quiet my stomach. Settling on canned peaches, I set them on the counter and stood on tip-toe to get a bowl from the cupboard next door.

Once I had my snack and a fork I headed for the porch. It was time to uncover the door’s secret.

The door was gone.