Summer camp , and me and Matías are walking down to the lake for kayaks , which we don 't like that much . Everyone else is already down there . So when we come to that fork in the path , where you go to the right to get to the lake , we didn 't exactly decide or talk about it , but we just took the left fork instead . So down the left path . And at first I don 't notice , ' cause me and Mat are talking , but after a while what he 's saying sort of fades out , and I notice how on this path the woods keep getting denser , and the dead leaves under our feet get darker and softer , and you can 't hear the lake at all anymore . You can 't hear hardly anything at all , even the birds are quiet . This door is just standing there , surrounded by trees , inside a wooden door frame . It 's painted dark blue , like the darkest midnight blue , and the paint looks old , all cracked and peeling . It has a regular doorknob , brass or whatever . Then Mat starts laughing , like this is the most hilarious thing he 's ever seen . I sort of see why he 's laughing , it is pretty funny - I mean who brought a door out here ? or did there used to be a house , and now a door is all that 's left ? But for some reason I don 't feel exactly like laughing . I keep noticing all the quiet . Mat walks up to the door . I say , " Hey , man , maybe you shouldn 't . . " and he stops and looks back at me , smiling , like , " Shouldn 't what ? " And I can 't think of what I was going to say , can 't think of a good reason not to touch the door . It 's so weirdly quiet here isn 't a good reason . Mat picks up a stick like it 's a briefcase . He puts his hand on the doorknob and looks back at me , saying in this fake deep , jolly voice : " Well , goodbye kids , I 'm off to the forest office ! Forest pizza for dinner tonight ! " And he opens the door , still looking at me , and walks through . I wait for him to come back around from the other side . But he doesn 't . So I guess he 's hiding on the other side , for a joke ? and I walk around back there . I walk up to the door and put my hand on the knob . Then I put my hand down , because I don 't have to do this , some grownup should do this . I run as fast as I can back up the path , back through the woods , to tell the counselors that Mat disappeared . But when I get back to camp , all out of breath , before I even get to the counselors ' cabin , I see him . I see Matías . It 's from the back , but he 's the only one at camp with an Astros T - shirt . And I 'm so relieved , it feels like I 'm standing in a shower of relief and it 's pouring right down from my head to my feet . It was just a crazy Mat joke after all . I run up to him , yelling , " Mat ! Hey Mat , I can 't believe you got here before me ! You really . . . " And I stop . But it 's not Mat , no way it 's Mat . Because the dark eyes are cold and empty , and he isn 't slightly smiling on one side of his face like Mat always is . He isn 't smiling at all . He isn 't even standing right - Mat 's fidgety , he 's always moving around and drumming his fingers or practicing soccer kicks . This boy is standing totally still . I am looking at a garden , crammed with flowers , dusty blues and bright - fire reds , sunny yellows . A path leads through the flowers to a blue - white sky . I can smell the green and the sweetness from here . I want to go there so bad , I feel my leg sort of pulling up on its own , like it 's going to take a step in . But now what I see behind the door is totally different . There 's no garden at all . Now where I 'm looking , it 's deep under the ocean , the water hazy and blackish - green . I could reach out one finger and touch the ocean , it goes right up against the doorway and stops . I can smell the salt and fish and underwater snmells . On the floor of the ocean is the skeleton of a whale . A million little plants are growing up inside and around it , winding around the bones , waving gently in the water , and fishes swim around and inside the plants and the bones . A whole little world in this whale skeleton , far under the sea . I say " Mat , " in a small voice . But if he 's in this place , he can 't hear me . I remember Mat wasn 't looking , when he walked through this door . He was looking at me , to see me laugh at his joke . He might have walked into anything at all . I close the door and open it again . I do that over and over , and the door always shows me someplace new . In every place , I call " Mat ! Matías ! " In every place , he doesn 't answer . I open the door to a dirty alley far below , and two girls in coats , fighting . I hear their tiny angry cries . When I yell " Mat ! " one of the girls looks up . Some of the things I see are so beautiful , and some are so horrible . The worst is when I open the door and the whole doorframe is filled up with this big man , with thinning hair and his sleeves rolled up , and he 's looking right at me with an ugly smile . I slammed the door on that man so fast . I didn 't even call for Mat . This time I see a forest clearing , where it 's almost dark . " Mat ! " I call . My voice is weak , because I 'm tired of calling , and I 'm afraid . " Mat ! " I yell . He starts stumbling toward me , calling my name . I realize that he can 't see me . I start talking so he can follow my voice , just saying anything , stuff like " You got this Mat , come on man , you 're almost home , this way , " like that . Mat 's getting closer - he 's almost here . I hold on tight to the door frame , just in case , and put my other hand through . Mat must see my hand , because his eyes get big and scared . He grabs my hand . But just at the same time , I feel someone yank my other hand off the door frame and hold it tight . I turn around , and it 's the other kid , the one who looks like Mat , but he 's not . The not - Mat 's mouth is twisted in anger but his eyes are the same cold and empty they were before . Mat and the not - Mat are pulling hard on my hands , I feel like they 're puling me apart , my arms are stretched out all the way . I pull as hard as I can , I pull both of them close , and pulling them in spins me . I am spinning , turning in this threshold , Mat in one hand , not - Mat on the other . I have to save one , and I have to let go of one , and I have to make sure I stay on the right side of the door . There 's a dark head on the ground next to me , where he fell . " Look at me ! " I yell . Because I don 't know if I got the right one . We walk back to the camp hardly talking at all , but I 'm so happy , so happy and relieved . I run up to Jim and say " Did we miss dinner ? Can we eat anyway ? because we 're starving and we had this crazy . . . " Because when Jim turns to me , it 's Jim 's goofy long face , and Jim 's pale blue eyes . But the eyes are cold as ice and empty . There 's no Jim inside them . A car pulls up , and my parents get out . Only it 's not my parents . I sort of knew it wouldn 't be , but I was sort of hoping anyway . Seeing cold horrible empty things that look like Mom and Dad , but are not my mom and dad - it 's the worst thing in the world to see . I 'm sitting in the back . I look at Mat through the window while it rolls up automatically . I think we 're both slight ; y crying . I say with my mouth , but not out loud , " goodbye , goodbye . " I kept the key in my hand the whole way from school , held it so tight it left a mark that was always gone by next morning and back again next afternoon . I locked myself inside the house at the end of the row , all exactly the same . Red brick and white shutters , pointy roofs and shiny mailboxes . My eyes were almost closed , blankets pulled up to my chin . A tap rattled the window , like the spindly wooden fingers of a branch , but there were no trees outside my room . Bugs sometimes flew too hard into the glass and I 'd find them squished on the sill , messy and disgusting . I pulled the blankets higher and fell asleep . " Go away , " I said , much too quietly for whoever was on the other side to hear me . I wouldn 't open it , because of what mama said . It could be anyone . The same thing happened the next day , and the next . I told mama every time , and she went up and down the street , to all the houses with their red bricks and white shutters and pointy roofs and shiny mailboxes to ask if it was the people who lived there , needing something . But it wasn 't any of them , and they hadn 't seen anybody on our porch . We must have been at work , they said . Helen must have been at school , they said . The tap on the window was loud enough to wake me up . I climbed out of bed , wriggling my toes in the soft rug before I pulled the curtains apart an inch to look outside . There was nobody there , nobody I could see . I was almost expecting the knock , but I jumped and dropped my pencil when it came , anyway . The lead broke and skittered away across the floor . " Go away , " I said , a little louder this time , still too quiet to be heard through the thick , locked , safe door . All night , something tapped at the glass . " Please , " it whispered . " Please , let me in , " and no matter how many times I told myself it was the wind , I knew that was a lie . " You still don 't look very good , " said Mama in the morning . " Let 's stay home today . " She called the school to get my work , and I sat on the couch with a fresh pencil that made nice , sharp marks . I liked how neat they were . Mama was upstairs , folding away socks . Someone knocked and it was safe , safe to answer while she was home . I listened as I tiptoed to the door , but there was no voice this time . Probably the mailman with a package . There were no other houses on the street , no red bricks or white shutters . Beyond the porch was just barren grass , far as I could see , and farther still . Overhead , the sun was hazed with clouds , hot , but the wind was cold . She 'd been at the back of the house , upstairs . I ran from the porch and onto the grass , pebbles biting at the bottom of my feet , little teeth hidden in the grass . Around the house and into the overgrown backyard . " Mama ? " The stars began to twinkle . The moon was bright . My eyes dropped closed , and when I opened them , my whole body hurt from sleeping that way , a solid ache from head to toe . The grass was glassed with frost . My stomach rumbled . Mama still hadn 't noticed I was gone . I multiplied things in my head to stay calm , keep my heart from hammering . It was afternoon , I think , when I remembered the ladder , left in the backyard last summer , now covered with moss and mold and snails . Messy and disgusting and I didn 't want to touch it , but I did , now , dragging it as far as I could and propping it against the red brick . My bare feet slid on the slimy rungs . I tapped at the window , but there was no answer . I knocked at the door again . " Please , " I said . " Let me in . " At the end of the path is a house of crumbling brick and turrets pointing into the sky . At the top of the steps , a door stands open , a door that is one of many . Step inside , and it already smells of secrets and starlight , of wind and mysteries . It wasn 't that Anna - May and I weren 't friends . We were . But affection is not really necessary for friendship when you 're seven , and it was enough that we lived next door to each other on a long , cracked road in a small , green town , and were the same height , and had the same cheap cotton Roebuck 's clothes in cheery colors , and our parents could foist us on each other without too much trouble . I remember distinctly standing by the freshly turned dirt of the grave on that hot July day . I remember my scratchy , ruffly white dress and I remember the flowers languishing in a heap on top of the coffin , dying in the sun . There was a fly on one the petals . It was buzzing its wings and turning circles , but it never flew off . I was watching the fly closely . I didn 't look at the coffin , or Anna - May 's parents , or my parents , or the reporters crowding out beyond the church 's little fence . I watched that fly , and I watched the dying flowers , and I remember thinking what a mess all this was . It wasn 't my fault , what happened to Anna - May . That 's what the police kept telling me , and the nurse lady from the office building in Cleveland , and my parents . Anna - May 's parents sometimes looked at me like they knew , but they said it , too , right along with everyone else : It 's not your fault . Not your fault , sweetie . Not your fault . This is how it happened : We were sitting in the Reginalds ' back yard one month earlier , Anna - May and I , eating something . I don 't remember what it was . Madeleines and lemon and something frothy . Playing at tea . I remember being bored and much too warm , watching the clothesline at the far end of the garden . It was hung with bedsheets and pillowcases , all blinding white , and one of the clothes - items was twisting in a very singular way in the slow , hot air . And then , all at once , the wind caught it and it was as if it wasn 't cloth at all but a person , a tall thin person , all white as chalk and linen . I looked back toward the clothesline . The wind had twisted the white shape again , and it almost looked as if the figure were waving at us . At me . A white shape , and the softly golden sun , and the green grass . . . She couldn 't see anyone , of course , but for some reason I said : " It 's a man . He 's gone now . He ran into the hedge there . " We came to the clothesline . There wasn 't anyone there , and all I saw now were a pair of long underwear and a white flannel shirt with its arms pinned up , but it made no difference . And at least we weren 't sitting around anymore . I poked my head into the hedge . Anna - May followed . We went a few steps in , and it was hot and close , the leaves pressing all around . We walked several more steps and then Anna - May started whining . " Yes . I think he might have been one of those drifting tricksters . You know , the ones that live by the railroad tracks and have tropical lizards and tigers and can spit fire ? Suppose he was one of those ! " But then Anna - May froze . I don 't know what she saw , because I was facing her , and she was looking over my shoulder . It might have been a trick of the light . It might have been the chalk man hurrying away among the leaves , turning from time to time , swinging his long arms , waving us in , waving us closer . Mrs . Reginald looked at me sharply . Then she said : " Molly , you 'd better go home . I 'm taking Anna to the doctor . Come on , Anna , up you go . " I ran up the street to our house and hid in my room . I watched from my window as Mrs . Reginald carried Anna - May crying and bawling into the house . I felt bad for her , just a little , and then I remembered her stopping in the bushes , refusing to go on , and I wondered why . I saw Anna - May one last time . I was walking down the sidewalk , and she was on the other side of the fence , sitting on a chair , her head propped up with pillows , like she had broken her neck and not just one tiny bone in her ankle . She saw me , but she didn 't say anything , and so I kept walking , and then finally she did call out : She was far too interested in the chalk man , and by then I had all but forgotten about him . She was interested in the circus . And while I didn 't like Anna - May very much , as I 've said , I liked telling people things . I liked telling stories . " They come every summer and stay on the other side of the train tracks , " I tell her . " All the most marvelous folk . And I think that 's where the chalk man was from . He had just wandered up here by accident and into your backyard , but I bet he 's really a magician or a juggler ! " " To do knot tricks , of course . Or maybe he 's an animal trainer . These circuses have everything . Elephants and tigers and you can 't do anything with them without a rope . " " Oh , " I said , and I was worried , because if we went , there would be no circus most likely , and so Anna - May would go back to thinking me bogus . So I said : " They won 't be there when your foot 's better . They 're always traveling . They do secret shows for the ones who know , for the people who get cards in the mail or the ones who wander up by accident and then they 're gone again by sun - up . I don 't think you 'll see them . " But she did . She wanted to find the circus , she said . She wanted to see the tigers and the elephants on the other side of the tracks , and see the fire - blowers . She wanted to find the chalk man . " Mrs . Pratchett . Good morning . I 'd like to ask to speak to your daughter , Molly Pratchett . There 's been an incident , and we think she might know a thing or two . " Nothing serious . Just some strange folks been seen around the neighborhood , and apparently your daughter saw one yesterday . We 'd like a statement from her . " I peered up at Officer Thomas , and I peered out over the street , and I felt quite frightened then , because I didn 't know what to say . A truck was parked on the other side of the street . It had an advertisement on the side for cheap dime store rings . So I said : " Yes . He had rings on one finger . A whole lot of rings . Seven or eight . " We watched him go down the steps , looking at his pad where he had written down everything I said , and when he put his head up my heart gave a little jolt because I was sure he would notice the truck with the rings on its side , and turn around and come back and take me to the police station . But he didn 't . He got in his shiny blue police car and drove away . The officer had lied , of course . Nothing serious meant Anna - May was dead . No one knew quite how she died , but either she fell or someone pushed her , and there were bruises on her arms , they said , that could be from thick gloves . Or rings . The police came to my house again , after everything blew up , after the whole town knew and everyone was scared and crying . This time there were two officers and they asked me many , many questions , sometimes twice to see if I would trip up . I did . They caught a man in a dirty white coat up by the railroads , a drifter from Mississippi . He had no family . He had a bad eye , and a bad mouth , and nobody missed him . They hanged him . I was in the newspaper the next day . I was everywhere , and people tried to get me to tell them things , and I started crying in front of all those flash bulbs and microphones , and everyone thought it was adorable and tragic because Anna - May and I had been such good friends , but they didn 't know . I didn 't give a fig for Anna - May being dead . I cared about me , and it was almost as if I had made the chalk man come alive and he had killed Anna - May , and it confused me something fierce . The truth of the matter is , ( or , I should say , the way most people would normally think ) was that there was no chalk man . There was only Anna - May and me , and a world full of dreadful people , and that world caught Anna - May the way it catches lots of folk . A man in a white coat was hanged for no reason . Maybe Anna - May tripped following my stupid map , or maybe a murderer went on his merry way , and no one looked at him twice , because maybe he was wearing checkers and orange polka - dots , and I had said he was wearing white . Either way someone died because of me . But that 's not what I believe . If you believe in something , it 's true , isn 't it ? For me it is . Maybe for Anna - May it was , too . There was simply a map . A hidden map . A map tucked away so deeply inside little pale , night - haired , night - eyed Susanna Gray that she never knew it was there . But she was ordinary , even though she desperately wished she wasn 't . She was the kind of girl who went peeking into wardrobes and hollowed - out trees , who clicked her heels together and chased after rabbits and tried so hard to move things with her mind that she had constant headaches , which kept her irritable and sour - colored . She was the kind of girl who tried jumping off of rooftops , hoping she would sprout wings , and ended up only with scraped skin and broken bones . For all the libraries , all the schools , all the courts and the cities . . . had been burned . Knocked into dust . Eaten away from the inside out . Imagine a way not just to die - for it was much worse than that - but to be , quite simply , erased . This is the way with some worlds , the way in which some worlds are linked . There are the worlds we can see , and touch , and taste . . . and the ones we cannot . At least , most of us cannot . So it was with the cartographer 's home . One terrible night , he sat in his squat cottage on the edge of his city and watched helplessly as it disappeared . Or , more accurately , as it was . . . eaten . But then , he wasn 't entirely helpless , was he ? Our cartographer was no warrior , no leader , and no magician - but he could draw maps . Observing the shape of the world , measuring it , reproducing it on scrolls and globes and even , when he was feeling particularly ambitious , on three - dimensional models . On that last , awful night , he therefore did the only thing he could do . He saw his city - the last city - being swallowed up . He heard the screams , and he smelled the smoke . He knew that there were now no more libraries , no more schools , no more official archives . On the same night the cartographer fled his home , there stood , a world away , in a much brighter and happier place , a little white house in a neighborhood that was respectable but not pretentious . There was a tidy garden out back , and a spotless white fence in the front . An arrangement of sycamore trees kept the house shaded in the warm months , and bright red flowers sat in clusters along the front walk . For young Mrs . Gray , it was the day she would be delivering her second child into the world . A girl . They knew it would be a girl . The wonders of modern medicine ! Modern medicine , of course , that Mr . and Mrs . Gray would have loved to take advantage of , on this clear summer 's day . They had not planned for her to have the baby at home . The idea frightened poor Mrs . Gray , who wept for her doctor . ( Dead . Napping . In a very important business meeting . Watching television with the volume turned up as high as it would go . Angry at the Grays for letting their dog wander unleashed , staring at the ringing telephone with a sullen , stubborn expression . ) And we can 't blame five - year - old Elliott for the thoughts that came into his head . Violent thoughts , they were - startling and vivid . He was afraid , after all . And if it meant that his mother would survive the day , and that she would stop screaming in this way that made her sound not like his mother at all - why then , he cared nothing for the baby . He didn 't know her ; she didn 't know him . She had no face , not even a name - not yet . The binders of the cartographers ' world called it sapientia . Some , in other worlds , called it God . And still others called it magic . Whatever name one calls it , it is that darkest , deepest , mightiest of powers that magicians try to capture with spells and musicians try to infuse into their songs and scientists try to uncover by smashing particles together . So did the heart of the worlds hear the murderous thoughts of young Elliott Gray , and shift , and thrum , and pulse . And laugh to itself , in its pitiless way . Not out of malicious pleasure , but simply because , even after so many countless ages , it could still find ways to surprise itself . The thing . It was following him . It was toying with him . It could have caught him long ago , but instead had chosen to play with him like a fat , smug cat - batting him with its claws on occasion , pinning him to the ground with a hot weight like a thousand summer storms , and then letting him go once more . Run , little man , the thing seemed to taunt , with a rumbling sound that the cartographer seemed to feel rather than hear . Like a shifting , pounding , scraping presence rather than a voice . Run , if you want . It makes no difference to me . Soon , the cartographer was gone , as was most everything else of this world - except for the map , and the sliver of power it contained . Except for that . Gone , but still somewhere . Not dead . Not destroyed . Not eaten . He reached for it hesitantly . How very odd it was , with that curling , singed feather sitting on the top of it . Like something too old to belong in this world . Alarmed , Elliott 's heart began to pound . What had just happened ? Had there been an earthquake ? He wanted his parents , but he couldn 't possibly bother them now - What an odd child she was , with those black eyes , wide and serious , as if they saw everything and understood it for what it was . She cried not at all - no screaming , no fussing . Just soft , wondering noises as she gazed up at the world and took it all in . The family sat quietly together , smiling and bewildered and tired , and it was some time before Mr . Gray remembered to say , " Say , did you see that flash of light , a few moments ago ? I could have sworn I saw something like that . Like a lightning flash , only . . . only there 's not a cloud in the sky . " He couldn 't have explained how he knew , but there was something about that pen he found , wasn 't there ? And how the world seemed to tilt when he held it ? There was something in his gut when he thought about these things - something that snagged onto him and tugged . Her skin was sticky with sweat . She lay on her bed beneath the ceiling fan , the blinds pulled closed and a buzzing whorl of impatience building in the back of her throat . With each passing day , the world seemed less remarkable to her . It was full of computers and televisions and phones that served as both , and people who saw but didn 't see , and too much noise and too much violence . Then her skin crossed from itching to stinging . Susanna sat up , examining her bare arms and legs . She didn 't see anything out of the ordinary , but something was obviously and horribly wrong . It was as though she had suffered a series of bug bites , and then scratched them too much so that they became sore - but she couldn 't see any of them . Her skin looked as it always did . Burning . She was burning . She had the bizarre thought that intricate patterns of molten wire were pressing up against her skin from the inside out . Branding her . All the while , her thoughts ran in an endless loop : " I will die here . I am dying . I am dead . " For a long time , the pain and her certainty of death were all she knew . " Where did I come from ? Right . Well , this is the slightly awkward part . I 've been watching your house for a while now . I mean , not only me . I 'm part of a team . Although team is a bit too official - sounding for our group . We 're more like . . . an assortment ? A lot ? A gang ! " " I 'm going on too long , aren 't I ? Right . So here 's the thing . Might as well get right to it . " The boy blew out a breath , his cheeks puffing . " You 've a map on your skin . In your skin . In your blood ? They really shouldn 't have sent me for this . I 'm only just learning , you know ? But they thought , me being close to your age , it 'd be easier for you . " Then Susanna looked at her arms - and screamed . Or tried to scream , but her throat hurt too much for such a sound to escape it . She swiped at her skin , trying to brush away the wriggling , dark shapes that shifted and slid along the angles of her limbs , but each slight touch burned her fingers . She tried to move - to run , but run where ? How can you run away from yourself ? - but her legs gave out , and she stumbled . Both Susanna and the boy turned to see a tall , thin man with neat gray hair watching them . The suit he wore sat uncomfortably about his frame , as though any moment it might fly off of him . He must have climbed in through the window , but - so soundlessly ? And from where ? " Ready for what ? " Susanna rasped . " What 's - what 's happening to me ? " She would not cry , though it hurt , though everything hurt , and though her skin was dark with skittering , slithering shapes that moved in and out of her clothes , lazily , as though they floated on the surface of unseen water . " You 're the Scrollskin , " answered the man , in a voice as flat and toneless as any Susanna had ever heard . His gray eyes flitted down her body and back up . " And you 're going to lead us home . " He paused . His mouth thinned , nearly imperceptibly . " Hurry up . We 're waiting . " The boy smiled ruefully . " Sorry about that . Binders are out of their heads most of the time . It 's hard for them to act normal . Or even kind of normal . " Spitting an unfamiliar string of words , the boy grabbed Susanna 's arm . At his touch , the map immediately vanished , leaving her skin blank - but Susanna could still feel it , shifting there , just beneath her surface . Hiding . Waiting . Some . . . thing . . . was inside her house . Something she could not quite get a fix on , but that was nevertheless shifting the planes of her house as though they were not rooted to the ground at all , but rather simply a flimsy hodgepodge of house - like parts . A child 's tower of blocks , teetering on an unsteady table . But she didn 't . She couldn 't . The hot wriggling mess beneath her skin that she knew to be the map tugged her onward , a petulant child eager for sweets . Hurry , it whispered - inside her mind , across and around the slopes of her skull . We must go faster . Hurry , child . Go faster , you idiot girl . The boy with the diamond grin ran beside her . The suited , gray - haired man ran ahead of her . And all around her , other shapes raced through the night - short , fat , tall , thin . People - like shapes . Most of them .