The moon shone down brightly on the orange and green leaves of the forest. The surrounding trees felt like an enclosure with an endless path leading down no where. The building intensity of the distant rustling of the leaves would scare anyone who decided to go wandering around this forest. Mark ran down the path, hoping this seemingly endless journey to the tower, where he had lived for many years, would come to a close soon. He had been away from the tower, looking randomly around for something that would protect the large domain of the structure. At the break of dawn, he made it to the chipped wooden door of the altitudinous tower. Mark set his dry hands on the old wooden door with great relief and a expectation for it to open on its own.

The door left an almost silent creek. The vivid light glared in Mark's face, making him squint against the intensity of the brightness. Was the tower always this bright? The warming of the sun cast down over Mark as he looked around slowly, adjusting to the brightness. He followed the damp walkway staring at the ground as the sun glinted off the narrow path. Many of his friends that he had not seen in years quickly greeted him and walked off as Mark kept on the trail. The nostalgia of seeing his own room made him want to forget what he was doing and go lie down on his bed, probably full of dust. In front of him stood the library. Mark had always missed the fresh air of the tower. He took a step forward and the old door slid to the side.