You stand in the open field, wondering, as always, how you got here. I have brought you, but that isn't important. You probably think you chose to come here, but this is not the case. You fix your eyes on a barren tree swaying in the wind, some distance away, stark against the grey sky. It must look like a hand clawing out of the ground to your small imagination. Sometimes you catch sight of it first, sometimes, the body.

You look down now, at the body lying before you. Almost certainly dead. You always reach for it, and then think better of the gesture  -I wonder at this, even after all this study. Why bother? The body is dead, it is obviously no one you know. Why then this urge to touch it, to make contact? This is just one of the few mysteries I must delve into.

Then: a noise, feet running, and you whirl in a wet-feeling panic that sends delightful shivers down my spine. You spy a dark figure darting into the doorway. As usual, you take a step in pursuit before the scene strikes you fully: a doorway, standing alone and unsupported. Beyond it, impossibly, darkness, vast and impenetrable, into which this shadowy figure has disappeared.

After a moment of doubt I have seen many uncounted times before, you find your resolve and step forward. I follow leisurely, confident I know your choices and your inclinations, and am not worried when I lose sight of you as you step into the darkness, into...