Most stories of this sort begin in a big, mysterious house, full of nooks and crannies, secret staircases, dusty attics, and all sorts of rooms just fit for exploration by an adventurous boy or girl. Really, in a house like that, it is no small wonder that magical things can and do happen. How many times has a child been swept away to a strange, new land while exploring a great grandmother’s ancient household? How many times have a brother and sister escaped from the everyday world, losing themselves in the dust and hay of an old barn on their uncle’s farm? Usually stories of this sort begin in a place like that—new and mysterious—perfectly fit for a magical adventure.

This is why the reader might find it quite remarkable that this story begins in a rather small, humble abode. Not only that, but Theodora (her father called her Dora—except when he was angry with her), who is the heroine of this particular story, knew the quaint home quite well. In fact, one might say that she knew every nook and cranny of that small house, having spent many hours exploring it in her younger years. She had lived there all her life, after all. It is this familiarity that Theodora had with the house that made it all the more surprising when one day she came across a door she had never seen before.

She had just finished doing all of her chores (as all good girls and boys should do before starting off on a magical adventure) and was sauntering down the hall to her room to play when she noticed the door to her father’s study was open. If the door had been closed she probably would have continued on to her room to play without giving it a second thought. However, as it was, she turned and stepped into the study. Now, you ought not be worried that Theodora might get in trouble for this seemingly brash intrusion of her father's personal study. In Theodora’s home the study was not so sacred a room as in other households. In fact, her father did not mind one bit if she went into the study. He often encouraged her to take a book off the shelf in her free-time. However, what had really compelled Theodora into the room was not the feeling of mischievous pleasure one gets by breaking a rule, nor interest in grabbing a book off one of the many shelves that lined the walls (she loved to read). Instead, she had happened to notice, while walking past the open study door, a second door on the far wall, standing erect and inviting between two bookshelves.

The strangest thing about the door was that Theodora could not say for certain whether it had not always been there. The door itself did not seem foreign to the room in any way. The deep mahogany frame matched the molding that ran along the floor and ceiling perfectly in tone and wear. A quick survey of the study told Theodora that nothing else had changed about the room. The roll-top desk was there in its usual corner, looking as wise and noble as ever. The bookcases were there along the walls where they had always rested. Even the beaten-up, old leather reading chair her mother was constantly trying to secretly replace under her father’s nose stood stooped over on the north wall, mocking the idea that anything was different about the room at all. Yet, there was this door to contend with.

Now, as the reader will be sure to point out to the author, in most stories about magical doors the door is usually very ornamental and old, and everything about it points to some magical origin and the exotic destination that lurks behind it. Let me assure you that in reality this is not usually the case. If the authors of all those other stories had been truthful in their accounts, you would know that most magic doors look very much like ordinary doors. Perhaps they tend to squeak a bit louder (as it is very rare for one to worry about oiling the hinges of a magic door when one is lucky enough to come across one—and I certainly would not encourage you to waste your time in doing so), but for the most part you wouldn’t be able to tell a magic door from any other door without seeing what was lying on the other side. And, of course, magic doors share this feature in common with regular doors as well: you cannot see what is behind it without taking the chance to open it. (Footnote: This is the feature that has really given the door its due in life, I believe. Even considering the contributions the door has made in this regard to game shows and horror flicks alone is enough to make one consider the door a staple of modern culture.) In any case, this was the problem now presented to Theodora. She did not know what was behind the door, and she did not know whether or not she should open it. Now, you might wonder that Theodora did not ponder over this problem any more than she did. But just imagine what you would do if you were presented with a strange door you had never seen before in a very familiar house you intimately knew from one end to the other. Naturally you would open it to see where it led. And just as naturally, this is precisely what Theodora did.