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.