The pouch at Swain’s side was alive with the humming of the buttons. Now that the pieces were all together THE DOORWAY was ready to be opened.

You are probably wondering how to do it, and so was Verow, but Swain knew and shall tell us how.

“The buttons must be sewn,” Swain said. Ah! We might have guessed! There was a small spool of thread in the pouch, and a silvery needle as well. 

Swain held Mrs. Gordon’s button above the ground, making sure that it stood quite straight; and he began to work the thread through the button’s eye and into air itself, as though it were fabric. There were a few folds and creases in the needlework, but it held fast.

Swain positioned another button on top of the first. “You try it,” he said. Verow was not entirely convinced that ordinary thread could hold a button to nothing, but sure enough when she took the needle and tried it herself it worked just fine, and “Oh,” she said. “It must not be ordinary thread.”

At first they had to go one at a time. The children could not sew more than one button before they had to retire and tend to their finger pricks (it was difficult work without a thimble), but by and by they learned the proper way, and soon they could each manage to sew at least six buttons to the air without pause.

When they were nearly finished the column of buttons stretched above their heads so that neither Swain nor Verow (nor any of us, should we have been there) could reach high enough to fasten the last few buttons.

“You’ll have to get up onto my shoulders,” said Verow, but of course Swain would not stand on a lady. In the end Verow got up onto Swain’s shoulders, and reached up as high as she could.

“Ouch!” she cried. She had pricked her finger again; but then the final button was stitched, and she came down safely.

It was done. The buttons split the sky into two halves that suddenly begin to ripple and flap in the wind like great curtains; and although the street had been quiet before, the sound of whispering voices was picking up, and getting louder and louder until the children covered their ears to keep the noise out from their heads; and dark clouds moved in, and lightning flashed.

“THE DOORWAY is open!” Swain cried out. “Take my hand!” Verow hesitated for only a moment as she gazed up at the rippling halves of the unbuttoned sky; but then she remembered her lost color and put her hand into Swain’s. Together they went through THE DOORWAY and were swallowed by complete darkness.

On the other side there was no sound but the children’s rapid breathing as they huddled together, and tried to get their wits about them; but they could not see a thing, and neither of them had a flashlight. “I have just one match,” said Swain. “We’ll have to make it last.” But when Swain struck the match it might as well have not been burning at all; they were still surrounded by complete blackness, and Swain felt as though Verow had put her nothing hands over his eyes. Still they kept the flame because it was something for them to look into. “We’ll have to move slowly,” said Verow, “so that it won’t go out.”

And so they did; and if you were to look at them then you might not believe that they were moving at all, that’s how slowly they went. Luckily the air was still, so they need only hold the match away from the wind of their breaths, and listen to the crackling of the flame. They realized that there weren’t any walls, and they were wandering about in total emptiness. They could be going in any direction, to any place.

Swain bit his lip sharply as the match’s flame started to come down onto his fingertips. He did his best, the brave boy, but he could not stand the pain for long; and finally he cried out as the flame seared his skin, and the match went out, and they were alone. “I think we’re lost,” said Verow. And then they were lost no more.

Topher Daniel can be reached at [email protected]