My phone vibrates in my pocket on a Sunday evening and brings with it some bad news.

Gwen's mother had taken ill and Mr. Woldo, my seventy-year-old jolly old employer, too had some urgent business to attend to, so, I was entrusted with taking care of the library over the next couple of days.

The next day, go over to Mr. Woldo's house and pick up the keys before heading to school.

Promptly at four, I open the library and make myself comfortable in the reception area. Having hung out with Gwen, I was aware of the ins and outs of the book lending and receiving system. So, at four-thirty, when the usual crowds started arriving, I am prepared.

After a less than exciting and lonelier than usual day, I start my usual duty of rearranging the furniture and stacking the books, haphazardly left on the tables.

Sighing, I get to work as the library empties, and I am left all alone. I call up mom to inform her that I would be delayed and not wait for me to have dinner.

In the quiet hall, with nothing but books to keep me company, I systematically start returning the books to their homes one by one, when I hear the voices coming from the back of the hall.

'The forbidden section.' I realize, and run towards the source of the sounds.

"Who's there?" I call, standing in front of the mysterious doors and get startled when I see dim glow emitting from the carved symbols on the doors that had fascinated me since the day I had come to know of their existence.

I contemplate calling Mr. Woldo, but change my mind when I hear the sound of scurrying footsteps behind me.

Shivers run down my spine, yet gathering my courage, I threaten, "This is the forbidden section of the library, please make yourself scarce or I will have to call the authorities."

The noise stops and thinking that whoever it was, had left, I walk away from the doors, when I feel someone tap my back.

"Hey, stop it. " I call out, turning back towards the door and walk closer. I don't know what comes over me, but without thinking, I push the door, and to my bewilderment, it creeks open.

"Hello. " I whisper, stepping inside, and the door closes behind me with a bang. I gasp and try to pry it open, but it doesn't bulge. I start to panic, but just then, someone clears their throat behind me.

I turn slowly, my heart beating a mile a minute, and come face to face with a very familiar face, "Mr. Woldo?" I question, and the old man who looks exactly like my employer, smiles back at me, "Oh, I was starting to think that the portal was broken, " He says before adding, "Welcome to the land of magic."

Bright light floods the chamber, and I find myself in what looks like an antique shop. And the eerie thing is, that this store looks almost exactly like the one Mr. Woldo used to own a few years ago.

When I keep staring at my employer's doppelganger, he blinks and shakes his head, "How very impolite of me!" He says, walking over to me and shaking my hand, "My boy, I am indeed Mr. Woldo, but I am pretty sure we have never met before."
"Mn?" I question, raising my brows, and he chuckles, "I think you must have met my twin, James. He is the guardian of the boring place you just arrived from." He explains, gesturing at the door I had walked through just moments ago.

When I continue to remain silent, the old man who had introduced himself as Mr. Woldo's twin, speaks again, "You must be special. Do you have a hidden third eye?" He questions, and I shake my head.

"Mnnnn, curious. Very curious." The old man says scratching his chin, "I eleventh finger, perhaps?" He speculates, and I shake my head yet again.

"Then it must be your will." He says confidently, and I ask, "My will?"

"Yes, my boy. Your will. The door, you see, doesn't just open for anyone. One has to either have magic in their blood or they must have the desire for it to be real, in their heart. And since you don't seem to have anything out of the ordinary, it must be that you truly believe that magic is real."

"That can't be it." I say, shaking my head vigorously and stepping away from the old man, "There is no such thing as magic." I bite out and once again try to push the door open.

Once again, I am met with disappointment.

"What made you change your heart?" Mr. Woldo questions, and I stop attacking the door.

Slowly, I turn to face his kind gentle face, and tears start rolling down my face. "There is no such thing as magic." I repeat between sobs, and the old man guides me to a chair shaped like a cat, "Please accommodate him." The old man instructs the chair, making me have second thoughts about his sanity. That is till the cat, I mean the chair wags its tail, and yawns.

I stumble back and trip on my own feet. I close my eyes as a reflex and land on something fluffy.

I leave a sigh of relief and look at my savior. It's a bed shaped like a tiger.
Fearing the worse, I stop breathing and stand up as slowly as humanly possible.

I look at the old man who is looking at me the same way I think I was looking at him moments ago, and ask,  "It's not a real tiger, is it?"

Mr. Woldo shakes his head and laughs merrily, "Of course, it isn't. I am not a Welmon, after all."

"What's a Welmon?"

"Not what, dear boy. Who?" He corrects, fear crossing his features. He looks around suspiciously and gestures me to follow him.

Following a few steps behind, I take in my surroundings. Yes, it's as I had observed when I had first entered this place. But now that I am looking carefully, I can notice the differences.
In Mr. Woldo's antique shop, the surroundings were a little gloomy and static, whereas here, almost everything seems to be moving in its place and has an unearthly glaze to it.

At this precise moment, stray yet completely plausible thoughts enter my mind: Was I dreaming? Had I fallen off the ladder and banged my head? Was I hallucinating? Was I at this very moment, lying on the cold hard floor, bleeding to death!?

I hear Mr. Woldo clear his throat, and that brings me back to this extremely wired reality.

"You are not dreaming." My employer's twin says, reading my mind. "But I can understand why you feel that way." He pauses, and snaps his fingers and a window appears on the wall, magically.

I know it sounds cliche, but I don't know how else to explain it.

"Let me prove it to you that you are indeed in the land of magic." He gestures me to look out the window, "Tell me, what do you see."

What I see, leaves me flabbergasted! I see foxes with nine tails. I see cats with four eyes. I see owls sitting on top of every roof. I see what looks like baby dragons being taught to breathe fire by an older dragon, and I see round wooden doors on a small hill next to where the dragons were being taught.

"I see... " I start, but trail off. For, what I see, it can only be described as magic.

"Yes, dear boy. We are surrounded by magic. But this magic comes at a price."

"Price?" I parrot, looking at Mr. Woldo, and he nods, "We pay for it with uncertainty and chaos."

Not fully understanding the meaning behind his words, I look at him questioningly, and he sighs, "With the magical, comes the demonic. With the wonderous, comes the evil." He pauses, and a look of utter despair crosses his face, "We have magic, but we are tied. We are suppressed and exploited. And more often than not, rebellion means instant death."

He puts a hand on my shoulder and snaps his fingers. The window disappears, and he looks at me with sad eyes, "Maybe that's why James left and swore to never let anyone cross over again. Not after how our dear Gwen was taken away from us."

"Gwen?" I ask, and the old man points at a wall with a painting hanging on it. I bend down to look past the curtains covering the face of what I presume is a portrait of a lady on the wall, and my breath catches in my chest. For, the eyes that stare back at me belong to none other than my Gwen.

{Note :- Word count 1488}