Black Door Bell Novels & Stories

He whisper-shouted close to the nape of my neck ,his humid breath striking my skin like a lightning bolt. "Shhh..."I harshly went , my eyes locking gazes with the inconspicuous metal door, painted in the darkest of the darkest tones of black ,which screamed Charlotte Dawson with its dark themed art which comprised of a really detailed skeleton, more like a Jolly Roger with a bunch of other smaller 3D skeletons and snakes, a coffin etched at the top with the words R.I.P TO WHOMEVER THAT WOULD BE TEMPTED TO TOUCH THIS LOCKER! How cute of her to think that empty threat would scare me.

The chamber remained deathly silent. Kharef still stood beside Maritza's empty bed, his hand tightly clutching a single strand of her golden hair. No one dared speak. Then— Dong... A deep bell echoed across the royal city. Once. Twice. Three times. It wasn't the palace alarm but it was the Temple Bell. Every face inside the chamber changed. The High Priest Anen frowned deeply before he walked back to the temple. "That bell… It summons the people."

And the most beautiful. But as I reached out to take Silas’s hand, I felt a vibration in the ground. *Thump-thump. Thump-thump.* It wasn't a heart. It wasn't a stone. It was a **Knock**. I looked down at the grass. Beneath the soil, a small, metal door had appeared. It was a simple, rusted cellar door, like the ones you find on old farms in Georgia. And from the other side of the door, someone was shouting.

I didn't look back, but I could feel his eyes touching me. After some minutes, we reached a turn. Then, I spotted the Black Estate. It had black, shiny stone walls, and high gates. The man slowed down at the gate. A camera turned towards us, the red light was blinking. “Say the password.” The driver commanded. I leaned my head outside and whispered “Ambrosia.”. Just then, the gate unlocked. Slowly, it opened by itself. My chest tightened. What is this black magic? The man drove in. The floors of the estate were nothing but gravel, making crunching sounds under the tires.

There was a break in the rocks and some faint tire tracks leading behind a granite outcrop. As they approached the iron gate, Beta Henry's jaw dropped. "There really is something here!" Alpha Xavier took the flashlight from Henry's hand, scanning the area until he located a doorbell set into the stone. He pressed it without hesitation. The button gave a soft mechanical click. Somewhere inside, a chime echoed. It was sharp, clear, and way too fancy for a place this deep in the woods. "Ding dong—" Cecilia's pov Harper and I were curled up on the couch watching a movie when the doorbell shattered our peaceful evening.

"If they reach the border towns of Aethel-Luna, nothing will be left to bury." "They aren't just wandering," Kael said, pointing toward a massive, dark shape rising from the ice-shelf in the distance. It was the Black-Site, a windowless structure of carbon-fiber and steel, partially buried in a glacier. From the top, a single beam of violet light shot into the sky, acting as a beacon for every shadow in the waste. "The signal," Elara said, her white hair whipping in the wind. "It's not a call for help. It's a Dinner Bell. The Site is running out of power and is calling its 'children' back to feed."

Carol asked with a shutter. “I’m going to the source of all this activity. If you want to leave and return to the lobby, you can.” Blake said with a smile. But before she could reply, there was a loud slamming of the door they had blocked from closing. Their only option now was to follow Blake and return through the elevator. They made their way to the last door with the basement written on top of it and whisps of Black aura emulated from the door’s cracks. When Blake opened it, there was no light shining from the room. It was only a black hole, not allowing any light to enter.

Elizabeth knew something was wrong the moment the sound fell short. The bell was meant to toll three times for the dead—three slow, measured peals to mark the passing of a soul from flesh to judgment. One ring was an accident. Two meant violence. Three meant God had been acknowledged. One meant there was no strength left to finish. She stood in the narrow lane outside her cottage, basket hooked over her arm, and listened to the silence settle. It pressed against her ears, thick and heavy, as though the village itself were holding its breath. The sound of the bell seemed to linger anyway, vibrating faintly in her bones, a ghost of metal and rope refusing to die.

I began, my voice clear and cold as winter wind, "take you, Silas Blackheart, as my...." The massive doors at the back of the hall exploded inward. The crash echoed through the chamber like thunder, so loud it made the candle flames flicker and dance. Stone dust rained from the ceiling as the ancient doors, each one carved from a single tree and strengthened with iron and dark magic, simply stopped existing.