Nathan stood staring out the window of Hawthorne Manor. His glossy reflection stared back at him, through the dark and rainy sky outside. His long, pale face looked as mournful as he felt. He tucked his long, black hair back behind his ears and turned away, as a flash of lightening obscured his reflection.<br/><br/>Moving back across the library he reflected that tonight was the same as every night. He was left alone, while his parents went out to another of their lame parties. The problem was that this was not just another night. This was his birthday. He stared up as a grandfather clock chimed out the nine hour, which was coincidentally when he turned eighteen. He had grown up and nothing was changed. Tomorrow he would go back to school and have the same awful day he always had, being teased and tormented.<br/><br/>The library was an octagonal room, with bookshelves along each wall. He had always imagined, when he was a child, that he could open a secret door into a magical country, by touching just the right book. Over the years he had run his finger over every book, and removed every book, save one. He had kept that one back, for the past ten years now, to preserve his feeling that he was right. Now he was eighteen. It was time to put away childish things. He would take down that last book and finally accept that there was no secret door. He reached up to take down Robinson Caruso and to his astonishment, one of the bookshelves started moving backwards with a loud scrapping sound.  To one side of the bookshelf was a dark opening.<br/><br/>Without a second thought, he pulled out his cell phone and turned on the flashlight feature.  He stepped into the opening and found himself in a long hallway of stone.  Walking forward, he kept moving until he came to a small wooden door.  Bending down, he opened it, only to find himself staring out at a forest of dark, leafless trees.  This, this wasn't possible.