Book Behind Closed Doors Novels & Stories

"She's dead as soon as she opens the door for them! Paolo will snatch everything he sees, Quinto will throw open all the windows to attract the zombies, and Marco will force her into giving up her supplies at knife point!" "And when they eventually kill her dog in the end, that good-for-nothing Valerio will still be too damn scared to even make a peep!" However, if I didn't open the door for them, all four of them would die outside my door. "Gemma Barletta!" Valerio pounded on the door again. "The zombies are right outside! You heard them! Hurry up and open the door!" Paolo also threw his weight against the door, making the door shake and rattle even more loudly than before.

After all, not every epiphany deserves forgiveness, right? Then one day, I caught something on TV that sent chills down my spine. The mental hospital I was in was in the news: a scandal broke out. Staff were arrested for a laundry list of horrors: embezzlement, violence, severe patient abuse, and some were even accused of human experimentation, organ trafficking, and murder. The worst of them were facing the death penalty. The memories of pain I buried came flooding back. I took deep breaths, trying to steady my racing heart.

Far in its bones, this house was alive. I found the study two doors down. Unlocked. There were floor-to-ceiling books along the walls inside. A glass tray had a half-full decanter of amber whiskey. The fireplace was cold but there was still the scent of burnt cedar in the air. I ran my fingers along a row of spines, titles in Latin, philosophy, eroticism, war. One book had a hidden cutout in the middle. A flash drive inside. I removed it. Behind the desk, I saw a framed photo.

After dropping off Dane in her room, I returned to my room. I closed the door behind me, the quiet click echoing louder than I expected. My room felt colder now, emptier. Like, even the walls could sense something had changed. I leaned back against the door, taking a deep breath, but it caught in my chest. I knew I couldn’t just sit around waiting for a miracle. I had to do something. I pushed off the door and went straight to the shelf near my bed. I’d always kept a few books on magic and bonds, mostly out of curiosity. But tonight, they felt like my only lifeline.

I don't blame them though, It wouldn't do any good if everyone is in a panic state luckily most of the pack members were safe I ventured the hallway looking at nothing but photos, when I suddenly came across a particular door that had a different color than the rest, my curiosity got the better of me so I opened up the door and made my way inside The room itself wasn't that interesting but somehow I knew it held mysteries, it looked like an ordinary study room with a small siting area and book shelves filling out the rest of the room I looked around the room gliding my hands across the books that looked interesting but found nothing out of the ordinary, just as I was about to give up and hea

- Samael thought as he prepared himself for a meeting with Nadir. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ At the same time, Maria found the book she was looking for from the owner of an antiques shop, but it was her property and it was impossible to buy or borrow the book, so Maria sat down at a table in the back of the shop, took out her notebook and copied the ritual she was interested in with all the drawings, which needed to be outlined. The owner of the book additionally instructed them on how to prepare for such a serious ritual, how to cleanse the room after it has been performed, so that nothing uninvited would remain in it. The woman also warned them to be careful, because by wanting to contact a particu

Sitting in the dim light of my apartment, I heard the distinctive sound of a door closing from across the hall. A sinister smile crept over my face. Clay was leaving. I slid the glass door to my balcony open and peered down to see his black car pull out of the parking garage, heading north. He's going home, I thought, how convenient. I returned inside, my fingers itching to pry open the book that lay on my coffee table. It wasn't any ordinary book—it was an old folklore tome filled with rituals, spells, and hidden amidst cryptic language, and dark magic.

He looked at the entry. He thought about Don in the study — the closed door that had been the signal of the working mind for thirty years. In the first years, the closed door had been the signal of Don writing essays, the shorter forms that preceded the books. In the fifth year, the closed door had been the signal of The Inside Account. In the twelfth year, The Ground Keeps. In the twenty-second year, The Emergent World. Now, in the thirty-first year, the fourth book. The closed door had been the same door for thirty years. The person behind it had been the same person. The work had been the same work — the sustained argument that had been unfolding for thirty years, the argument that had ap

My pulse quickened each time I passed a closed door, half-expecting someone to step out and catch me in my midnight excursion. The double doors loomed before me like the gates to some forbidden realm. Slowly, I pushed one open, wincing at the groan of the hinges. Peeking inside, I let out a sigh of relief when I saw it was empty. The dim moonlight streaming through the tall windows gave the room an ethereal glow, highlighting the towering bookshelves that seemed to stretch endlessly. Closing the door softly behind me, I moved deeper into the room. My fingers brushed against the spines of countless books as I walked along the shelves. Somewhere in here, there had to be a clue, a record, anyth

She was far from home and she was in unknown territory. Finding what he was looking for, he tilted the book with the title on its spine, To Kill A Mockingbird. A resounding click was heard, and the bookshelves parted into two like the Red Sea to reveal the titanium door with a security pad on the side. Phil punched in the codes in haste, and before you know it, they were inside the secret room.