Bernard sat nervously in the passenger seat as his father drove up the long winding driveway.  The surrounding grounds, dotted with trees, slowly drifted past, and he watched a pair of ducks swim across a wide pond.  A wooden rowboat drifted lazily nearby, a gentle breeze pulling at its tether.

  As they crested the hill, a sprawling mansion came into view.  Even without the contrast of the simple farmhouses in the village, it would have seemed massive with its manicured gardens, gleaming white pillars, and enumerable windows.

  The car’s wheels crunched on gravel as they pulled through a set of black iron gates and followed the driveway around an ornate fountain, surrounded by a zoo’s worth of animal statues.  Mr. North navigated the narrow lane with practiced ease, coasting to a stop between a marble wolf and a stag with broad antlers. 

  Following his father up the front steps, Bernard glanced back and took in the fantastic view.  It was a beautiful morning with the slightest chill in the air, hinting at the cooler days ahead.  He could see all of Giles Hollow from here.  Carefully counting the tiny buildings along Main Street, he located the distant white square that was home.

  “Impressive isn’t it,” his father said.  “You know, years ago, when they built this place, there was a regulation stating no structure within the town limits could be more than two stories tall.”

  “Really?  Why?” Bernard asked

  “That was as high as the fire department’s hoses could reach,” said his father.

  Bernard stared up at the fourth-floor windows.  “Then how did they manage it?”

  “Simple.  The Council bought the fire department its first ladder truck.  The point is, there are many rules and laws that, perhaps well-intentioned, are the product of limited vision.”

  “So it’s okay to break them as long as you have a tall enough ladder?” asked Bernard.  He was trying to figure out where this conversation was going, but he was never good at deciphering the larger message he knew his father was often trying to impart.  Why couldn’t things just be what they were?  Why did everything have to have hidden bits?  He was sure Lester would have had no trouble understanding the point, which made it all the more frustrating.

  “Not exactly,” his father said, in the slow, patient voice Bernard never heard him use with his brother.  “The key is to see the broader picture.  If you can find a way to circumnavigate the obstacle, the reason for its creation becomes obsolete.  Understand?”

  “I think so,” said Bernard, though he didn’t.

  “Good.”  His father put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, while Bernard arranged his face in a way that he hoped looked thoughtful.  “We’d better get going.  It’s not a good idea to keep them waiting.”  

  At the top of the stairs, they stopped in front of two large black doors.  Before Mr. North could raise a hand to knock, they swung open, and a bald man with the palest skin Bernard had ever seen stood looking out at them.  He wore a light blue suit that perfectly matched the color of his eyes.

  “Good morning, Doorman,” Mr. North said, unsurprised by the man’s sudden appearance.  “This is my son, Bernard.  I believe they’re expecting us.”

  The pale man gave a slight nod and, without a word, silently bowed them inside.

  The doors quickly closed behind them as they crossed the threshold, plunging them into darkness.  Blinking rapidly, Bernard fought the urge to grab for his father’s hand and waited.  At first, he could only sense the vastness of the space.  But gradually his eyes adjusted, and things slowly came into focus.

  A massive chandelier hung down from high above, its faint light passing through hundreds of crystals that cast glimmering pools across a black stone floor.  This perpetual twilight made it difficult to discern just how large the room was.  No walls or windows were visible, and the absence of any furniture or artwork played with one’s perspective.  As far as Bernard could tell, other than the three of them, the place was completely empty.  

  The clicking of the bald man’s shoes echoed as he set off, and Mr. North inclined his head for them to follow.  Moving in and out of the flickering circles of light, Bernard had the odd sensation of walking atop a deep body of water.  He kept his gaze straight ahead, afraid of what he might see if he looked down.

  After what seemed like an impossible distance, the outline of a door set into a far wall came into view.  This appeared to be the only exit, other than the way they had come in.  They continued towards it in single file, their journey ending much sooner than Bernard would have liked.  

  “Might we have a moment?” Mr. North asked once they’d arrived.

  If the pale man gave some sort of approval to this request, it was too slight to see.

  “I don’t want you to be nervous,” Mr. North said, placing a hand on each of Bernard’s shoulders.

  “I’m not,” said Bernard, feeling extremely nervous.

  “It’s all going to be okay.  Remember, you are a North.”

  “Right.  I am a North.”

  “Excellent,” said his father.  “Now, are you ready?”

  Bernard was in no way ready, but his fear of disappointing his father outweighed his fear of whatever came next.  “Ready,” he said, trying to sound sure.

  Mr. North stepped back, and the pale man opened the door.

  Bernard quickly shaded his eyes as bright white light shone from the opening.  It blinded him as thoroughly as entering the boundless black room had.  Steeling his courage, he took in a deep breath and walked forward.

  Crossing through the door was like stepping into nothingness.  There was the sound of a lock sliding into place behind him, and Bernard suddenly felt more alone than he’d ever been in his life.  Until, somewhere in the distance, he heard something move.