Valerie tried opening the book once again,  but it was as if the pages themselves had been glued together. She glanced around the shop, and not a soul was in sight. She slowly crept towards the velvet curtain, and quickly slipped behind it. She looked ahead to see a long corridor, and to her left the first thing she noticed, was a pastel blue door with a snowy white frame. The same one, she had written about in her diary entry. The fancy golden handle, gave a shiver as the cold metal touched her fingertips. Still, Valerie twisted the handle, and pushed the door open. 

All of a sudden, Valerie felt an icy breeze blown onto her pink cheeks. A bitter wind, threw bits of snow every which way, and the door slowly shut itself with a bang when it finally hit the frame. Valerie turned around to see it, but it had already vanished into thin air. 

She turned back around, to see her surroundings, and in the distance she noticed a small cottage, with a faint orange glow in the windows, and a lime of smoke rising from the chimney. She looked around again, and it was the only form of shelter in sight. She soon built up the courage, and began her journey to the little cottage. 

She opened the door to the small house, and a gust of warmth shot at her face, as she spotted the fireplace in the corner of the room. She quickly closed the door, and rushed over to sit by the fire. Valerie put both hands out and began rubbing them together, which door, and all of a sudden she felt an icy, thin hand slip over her shoulder.