Zosia and Kuba find a tiny golden door in the trunk of a great oak tree. When it opens, green light spills out and a whisper stops them in their tracks.
One warm afternoon, Zosia and Kuba were chasing each other around the park when Zosia stopped so fast that Kuba nearly bumped into her.
"Kuba," she whispered, pointing at the old oak tree. "Look."
There, low on the rough bark, was a tiny golden door. It was no bigger than a storybook, and it had not been there a moment ago. A little handle shaped like an acorn glinted in the sunlight.
Kuba stared. "Trees do not usually have doors."
"This one does," said Zosia.
She reached out and touched the handle with one careful finger. Ding.
A soft bell rang inside the trunk.
The door creaked open by itself.
Warm green light poured out, bright as leaves in summer. From somewhere beyond it came the sound of laughing, and voices as soft as wind through grass.
Kuba took one step back. "Zosia... where does it go?"
Zosia was still holding his hand. She was trying to smile, but her eyes were wide.
"I do not know," she said.
Then, from behind the tree, a voice breathed, very close and very quiet:
"Wait... not everything on the other side is what it seems."