Taking a deep breath, Kevan MacGreene put his hand on the door knob and opened it. Then he stepped through.
He felt his foot strike the edge of something solid and then he was falling. He tried to twist and grab, but there was nothing to grab. Down he went—falling, it seemed, slowly and interminably—until finally he landed with a thump. Looking around, he realized he was sitting on the ground of a forest. There was an eerie look to the trees around him, their limbs twisting skyward, their leaves looking like green woven silk.
Sitting there on the ground, Kevan MacGreene became aware of the most startling thing. His hangover was gone as if it had never existed. That, more than anything, made him decide to believe that he was in the land of the Little People. He’d had many a hangover, but
