Entrances And Exits

Across time and continents, a mysterious violet Door appears to those in their darkest hour. It is not just an escape; it is a summons. In modern-day Tanzania, Resipicius ("Ressi") is a young man crushed by poverty and aimlessness. When the glowing portal tears through the wall of his crumbling hut, he steps into the void, leaving his world behind. But the mystery of the Door began long ago. In 1921, twins Mwanamalundi and Mwajuma were born with the power to command the storm and the earth. Destined to protect their people, they built a sanctuary against colonial oppression. However, their rise provoked Baraka, a jealous rival who betrayed them to German forces. In the ensuing battle, Baraka found redemption in a sacrificial death, but tragedy struck the twins. Mwajuma fell into the Chozi la Ardhi—a mystical pond that defied gravity to become the very first Door—and vanished into the stars. Now, the Door has opened again for Ressi and others across the globe. The prophecy foretold that help would come from other worlds. The scattered heroes are being gathered, and the true war is about to begin.

Tunnels deconstructs the individual’s Romantic fascination with ‘love’ or the grammaticality of beauty. Ideally, the ‘tunnels’ in the collection are subterranean love poems from the suburban imaginary. These seemingly syntactic tunnels travel through one’s literary imagination or heterotopic dreamscapes, and while αγάπη (Greek for ‘love’) inspires these rhizomic tunnels to navigate the abysmal ‘meta-spectacle’ of gesture, language or moment of poemness, the mind like the many-colored jeepneys of Manila, where driving past roast goose restaurants in Shek Kip Mei or spotting stilt houses in Kampong Kleang, attempt to explore the transgeneric textualities of the everyday, alongside the unstructurality of time and space, the littoral and the liminal.

Era a normal girl. Her life is too simple and clear as water where no secrets,no dark past, no untold stories are there or may be that what she think of. Untill one day she collide with two hot strangers out of this world .One with blue eyes holding mystery for her to solve and her death. And blast a bomb on her head ,that the humanity gonna end and she is the only key to stop this. The only key for which the demons chase her. The only key of Dream door . Her life is facade and the truth lie behind the door.....Dream Door.

A hell-recycle world within the modern world, designed for death or near-death individuals. With the greenhouse effect resulting in instability in hell, access to hell becomes restricted, and the game keeps the new souls busy while offering them a second chance to return to their lives before death, depending on their performance. A six-digit cash prize is awarded to the winning participants, with rewards ranging from reversed choices and time manipulation to wealth and more. The 100 Doors Challenge System was designed purposely for this world, to keep the growing audience (already existing souls) entertained. Chosen participants must die beautifully at each door. The fancier and more tragic the death, the higher the views. The story alternates between real-world broadcast control rooms, digital death arenas, and fragmented dreamlike worlds designed from Author Willa’s traumas, fears, and regrets and those of the participating ghosts. 100 Doors: Die Fabulously for the Audience. This story contains graphic adult themes, including explicit sexual content, psychological tension, dark humour, trauma, and scenes of coercion and moral ambiguity. It explores mature, disturbing, and emotionally intense situations within a fantasy-system setting. Reader discretion is strongly advised.

In a cruel place where there's no room for failure because failure means blood and death. The challenge is simple. Survive and escape the claws of your doom. The race against death's door begins once you enter the door...

I heard a small "come in" from the other end. Grabbing the knob, I twist it before pushing the door open. My eyes widened as I saw the scene unfold in front of me. Xavier stood there in the room along with a woman whose brown hair ruffled all over the place. Her blood-red lipstick was smudged. She was dressed in a revealing top. Her breast almost spilling out of her dress and extra tight and small skirt as if she'd just come from some club, her arms crossed and her features amused. She looked strangely familiar for some reason, and it took me a while to identify her, but I did. She was the same woman I had bumped into on the market. My eyes swiftly turned to Xavier. He was dressed in a suit identical to the one Xavier wore with the top few buttons open. What caught my eyes the most was the lipstick stain on his neck identical to the one the woman had on. My heart slumped in deep dejection. It wasn't any science- rocket to know what had occurred here before my arrival.