An odd carving of an opened eye glowed above one the exits. Jonathan grabbed her by the arm. “Come on Grace! This may be our chance to get out of here!”
“Get out of here? I just got in here!” Grace stumbled forward, her eyes still fixed on the light.
Jonathan grasped the stick and pulled it down and waited, expecting that at any moment they would be violently sucked through it, but nothing happened. The door just appeared and opened and they stared into a spacious field that stretched out deep and wide. His eyebrows furrowed. What purpose could a grassy meadow serve? A sweet-smelling breeze lured him forward. He felt an overwhelming desire to fall face first into the field, into the strange grain that pulsated with the wind. He shook his head as if shaking off an annoying gnat. Nonsense, he thought, stepping back from the door and pulling Grace with him. The door disappeared. He glanced above the stick and found the eye closed. What did that mean? His eyebrows knit together, as he followed Grace's gaze to the trim.