I woke up early one winter morning, and one quick glance out the window confirmed my hopes. The snow was much higher than I thought was possible, except in Antarctica or something. It was up to my third story bedroom window. Happily, I pulled on a sweatshirt, grabbed my favorite book, and fell onto my beanbag chair. I opened the book to the first well-loved page. What I saw was a mass of swirling purple. I touched it tentatively with my finger. As soon as I did, I regretted it. I was sucked through the book and was whirled around crazily. "Why did I do that?" was my only thought. Finally, my legs hit some cold, hard surface and I fell to the floor. I heard some clattering from behind me. Groggily, I lifted my head and wished I hadn't. Standing above me was a stern man wearing rusty, dented armor. He shouted something I couldn't understand and I crawled to my feet. Instantly, he slammed manacles onto my wrists and pulled me toward a gilded door. I suddenly noticed a strange purply tinge to the gold. Charging forward, I hurtled through blackness. I was back in bed.
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