The road meandered this way and that, never seeming to lead Marina any closer to this thing named the ‘Tower’. It wasn’t as if she had picked the wrong fork in the road – there had only been one road to begin with! It felt like one of those dreams where she was endlessly walking, her feet progressing forward mindlessly, without any direction. Only this time, she knew she was headed somewhere. She felt it – the burning need to reach the Tower. She needed to get there.

There was nothing on the dirt path. Nothing alongside the path, and nothing on it. In fact, it looked untouched, like it had never once been traveled until Marina came along and became the first to even step foot there. As she began to realize the oddity of such a road, the Tower appeared immediately in front of her. What seemed to be miles away just a second ago was now standing over her, an arm’s length away. The last time she felt so small was about 12 years ago, when she was nine, and her father towered over her with his six-foot, bulky frame, bloodshot eyes, and the smell of tobacco and beer emitting from his skin. At least the Tower smelled like nothing at all. Anyways, that was a long time ago, and her father had not been around for some time now to make her feel that way.

 “Well, the door looks like it’s on the other side…” Marina muttered. Her hand, thin and cracked from her journey, rested gently on the wall of the Tower. A sharp chill scattered throughout her body. It felt like it was built with ice cubes, rough, black ice cubes. Every second her hand remained against the wall, another chill ran through her arm, radiating through her body and down her spine, settling in her feet. And yet, she kept her hands against the wall, sliding them laterally as she made her way around the exterior of the Tower until she reached two grey doors of dull metal. Her reflection was a mere blur.

“Welcome, Marina.”

A voice echoed, deep and rich, and rather inviting. It seemed to enclose her, so much that she could not identify where it came from. The warmth of the voice contrasted sharply with the frigidity of the Tower walls. The bones in her feet had seemed to turn to ice, but in a matter of seconds, a fluid, warm sensation restored all feeling to them, as well as her hands. She placed a single hand on the cold, steel door, just as she had done previously when she first came upon the Tower. For no more than a single fleeting second, a subtle, but distinct ‘ba-bump’ pulsed through her palm, resonating with the sound her own heartbeat, of which she was now very much aware. It was as if there was something, such a strike of lightning or gust of freezing air, that alerted her senses to not only her surroundings, but herself as well.