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Far off in the north woods lies a hidden door to a special land that can only be reached with the aid of a shovel and an ice pick. Wrapped in fur from the top of his bald head to to his nearly frost-bitten toes, Peter stood before the door, chipping away at the ice-bound lock. When the last bit of ice had fallen away, he took hold of the doorknob and turned it.

The old metal of the doorhandle was rusty and pieces of it stained his hand red. Mustering his courage, strangely quickened by his own sudden surge of expectation, he pushed open the ancient door. As he heaved himself against the last remnants of ice at the bottom of the door, the door suddenly gave way, causing him to tumble and roll head first onto a grassy knoll. When he was right-side-up again, flat on his back with his furry hood flung back against his shoulders, Peter found himself staring straight up into the bluest sky he had ever seen.

For a moment, Peter felt he was being drawn into the blue, as if he ceased to exist as an individual. The feeling passed as quickly as it came. He climbed to his feet. Turning to look back through the door, he saw the wintery world behind him. He closed the door behind him. Perhaps his mother was wiser than she knew, with her constant admonitions to ‘Close the door!’ It would never do to leave a door between worlds open.

Call it instinct, or a sudden deep sense of fear, Peter found himself reaching behind him for the knob again, twisting it, trying to turn it but it resisted all his effort.

The radiant blue sky, so welcoming and benevolent a moment earlier was now a steely gray, a fierce, icy wind was chilling him to the bone. Pulling up the hood of his parka he realized he needed to find shelter soon or he would quickly freeze to death. He’d seen no sign of any town, or road, not even a building, in his brief glimpse of the countryside. What was he to do? The feeling of losing himself returned stronger now as he began to panic.

Why had this beautiful land turned into the snowy, icy world he had left? He forced himself to stand and shake off the pessimism so that he would think more clearly. Then he began to walk.

He struggled against the wind, laboring with every step. After a half-hour of slowly making forward progress, he thought he saw something ahead – maybe a shelter. He rubbed the icy accumulation from his eyes and saw a polar bear. The bear, chewing on a seal carcass, turned its head in Peter’s direction. Its muzzle curled back to reveal 5 inch incisors and then it smiled and said to Peter, ” Join me. “

Peter began to back away ” No thank you. “

” I said,” the Bear whispered ” join me. “

The bear’s whispered invitation was seductive, and the man found himself slowly moving forward.trembling with every step.

“Why am I doing this?” Peter asked himself. “It feels as if my body is controlling my mind.”

The bear spoke again, this time more insistently, “Come to me, Peter—I know that’s what you want.”

Suddenly, Peter felt a vibration under his feet and a low rumble rose up from the ice beneath him. A crack formed in front of him and with a mighty roar, the ice split wide open between him and the bear. The bear, realizing his prey would soon drift away, rose from the carcass and charged towards Peter.

The roar echoed mightily in Peter’s head as the bear bounded towards him. He had a single moment in which to decide whether to run or to jump into the crack in the ice. He decided that a quick death by drowning or freezing might be preferable to being chewed by a bear and leapt into the chasm.

As he fell through an endless dark space he felt the air become warm and balmy. He had expected to fall to his death – instead he appeared to be falling into another new world. He expected it would prove to be same as the worlds he had just left behind, the door between the two being nothing more than an illusion of escape.

However…............

As his life flashed before him, he realised he had been running away from the many truths he so desperately wanted to believe and live.

What took only seconds seemed like hours as he fell to what he imagined would be his doom. Why didn’t he? Why did he? He should have done it this way and not that way.

Then suddenly, with a thump, he stopped. He wasn’t hurt at all, having landed in a thick layer of feathers, lots of feathers. Dazed, he peered around and saw four eggs. Then, with some hesitation, he looked out and up, and he was struck with the realization that he was in a giant eagle’s nest.

The view was amazing, undescribably beautiful! Well, he thought, what do I do now. I think I can only absorb the beauty, tranquility, view and peace of this moment – and so he did.

How could he explain all the things that now came to mind, that he came to realise, way up here, warm, comfortable and feeling so peaceful? It was like he was meant to look at things from here, from above.

And then, he heard a squawk and then another. He peered into the distance and understood—mother eagle was coming home. What would happen now?

Noticing the huge talons on the approaching eagle, Peter decided it would be a good idea to get out of the nest. Gingerly, he climbed out and clung to the trunk of the tree and slowly eased himself down. With his feet firmly on the ground, he pondered the same questions: where am I? why? who am I?

Suddenly he heard a sweet, clear sound, a voice that glided out of the ether and wound itself around his heart.

The voice was familiar to him. It was a voice he had heard many times before in a dream or somewhere, to which he had paid little attention. This time he had no choice. The voice was all he had to guide him now. The voice was almost inaudible and seemed far away, but he listened again, straining his ears to hear the words. It was a woman’s voice:

“Peter, you are never alone, nor will you ever be. Just follow the voice you hear and listen to none other—that is IMPORTANT, and very soon all your questions about who and where you are will be revealed to you.”

Her gentle words soothed Peter’s heart and and settled his restless soul. He found himself breathing steadily again, and his heart had slowed to a normal pace. He felt the tension ease out of his shoulders and back, and for the first time on this new journey—really in his entire adult life—he felt completely calm and at peace.

He breathed in the delightfully fresh air, slowly and steadily, and felt his tired feet sink into the springy grass. Looking down at his worn-out boots, he decided that now would be a great time to take them off, and refresh his aching feet on the dewy grass. He unlaced and pulled the boots off, with some difficulty. His feet were swollen and red. Upon setting his throbbing feet onto the cool lawn, they instantly became refreshed, and were no longer swollen and tired. His feet were completely rejuvenated, as if time had been turned back, and years of hard toil and hard roads had been erased instantly.

He felt like a young boy in summertime again and that his feet could carry him anywhere now. Looking at his dirty boots where his toes had worn holes, he heard the gentle voice whisper again, “Leave them behind. They serve no purpose in this place.”

Peter smiled with delight to hear the voice again, this gentle voice speaking to his soul. He left the boots there as they lay.

Looking around at the thicket of trees, he saw a clearing just up ahead and to his left. She said to him, “That’s the way” and with a bright, warming sun at his back, he set off towards the clearing with a bounding, fearless stride.

And then he passed through the clearing and towards a set of rusted wrought iron gates. Ahead of him was his home and standing on the top of the steps was a woman with a clipboard.

” Peter ” she said, ” where on Earth have you been? “

” Out there ” he told her.

Dr Valaria Redspur shook her head and laughed ” Come on in and tell me all about it.”

Peter followed the Doctor through the doors that opened and closed by themselves and after them a rusted chain snaked its way up from the ground and found the door’s handles.

The chain hissed and clicked and locked itself shut.

After awhile, just after sunset a cold little breeze settled around the entrance way the way a well fed cat would settle in front of a fire after a good hard hunt- and if that breeze had a face it would have looked just as self satisfied and well fed as that cat.

The cold breeze made the metal sign above the doors finally break away from its rusted nails and then it sailed aimlessly to the ground.

” DANGER DO NOT ENTER! “ It read in faded black paint “ Redspur State Lunatic Asylum condemned on May 7, 1940”

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