The leaves on the trees swayed in the gentle breeze. It was a perfect spring day.
The spring fair was in full swing at the bottom of the hill so nobody noticed what happened in the field overlooking the celebrations. If they had, they probably wouldn’t have believed their eyes anyway.
A door appeared.
Where a moment ago there had been nothing but a line of trees marking the edge of the wheat field, now there was a doorway, through which stepped a white-haired old man.
“Yes, this will be perfect” he said to himself after watching a group of small children playing together for a while. “Just not now… no, the time is not right yet. They’re too young still.”
He stepped back through the doorway and disappeared muttering to himself, “Another year should be fine. Yes, another year. It will take two more after that…”
The door closed and disappeared, cutting off the man mid-sentence leaving the field empty again, as if nothing had happened.