Excerpt of The Kura by Mary Patterson Thornburg

Once under the bridge, where there was no grass and the
ground was set with flat, whitish stones, her heart beat
fast. There was no denying the physical power of the
place. It was like a magnetic force, drawing her toward
the concrete doorway that opened into the room under the
bridge, where the other Doorway, a narrow arch set in
stone, marked the far wall. After taking the side bags
and arranging them on her own shoulders, she grabbed
Charlie's hand, pulled him into the room after her, and
turned.

"'Bye, Pop," she said, breathless, still holding his hand
as if to let go of it would cause her to fly backward.
"I'll see you in October, I hope. If I don't come then,
don't worry. I'll get back for a few days as soon as I
can."

"'Bye, Alyssha," he said, and kissed her. "I love you.
You take--" His voice cracked and he shook his head
fiercely. "You take care now."

"I promise. I love you too." When she let go of his hand,
she couldn't stop herself. Walking backward, she bumped
into the wall, felt behind her, and found the depression
among the stones that was the Door. It was widening,
deepening, darkening even as she touched it. Her father's
eyes widened too, and she laughed. "Here I go," she
called, and stepped back.

Immediately she was far from the bridge, far from
Granville. Her heart beat once...

A rush of space and time opened on all sides. With this
great soundless wind, her identity took flight. She was
no one. A molecule of matter, an infant in the urgency of
birth. A wish about to be fulfilled. Sudden stars woke
and blazed and a universe came into being. At its center
a red stone budded and flowered...

Another heartbeat...

She stepped forward and stood on a narrow ledge studded
with flat, whitish stones. Above her was a pale sky
streaked with clouds. Behind her, a shallow cave in the
hillside dwindled to a fracture, a discolored line in the
rock. A memory.