Book Door Novels & Stories

He hurried after me and I closed the door behind us. “The cabinet by the guns.” I had no idea what was all that about, but I wasn’t about to ask first. Edward guided me to retrieve a small iron key from under the false bottom of one of the wooden cabinet drawers. “Library,” Edward said then. So we went back to the library. Turned out the small key opened the glass doors to a book cabinet against the back wall. “Let me see.” I stepped back and Edward said a moment later, “The book with leather covers.”

Damn, I am too bad at remembering faces. Anyway, let's get to business. I face the name engraved on the door... Wohtinger? I suppose I'm lying so hard these days that my lies are becoming true. Let's see how I can take advantage of the current situation. When I opened the door, I notice that the place was like a mini version of the library, although different. The shelves are gold decorated, the books are all new and well maintained. The sun's rays coming from the open window make the room feel refreshing, soothing, and to my dismay, brilliant.

He guided me away from his brother, directing me down the long, echoing corridor toward the massive double doors of the library. The wooden doors were massive, carved from dark timber that smelled of old dust and varnish. Intricate patterns covered the surface. On the right door, carved lines twisted into flowers, heavy leaves, and a burning sun. On the left door, the carvings formed a massive crescent moon and a weeping tree. Beneath the branches of the tree, a small girl knelt in the dirt. The king shoved the right door open. The heavy wood groaned on its iron hinges.

The study door was open because that was what you did with the study door in this house. She set down her coffee. Crossed the room. The panel had a fraction of a gap at the lower right edge, the wood sitting at a slightly different angle from the panels on either side. She pressed her fingers along it. It swung inward. Behind it: a shallow shelf, maybe eight inches deep. Three items. A photograph. A folded document. A Manila folder held shut with a rubber band that had been there long enough to leave a faint mark in the card. She stood with her hands at her sides and looked at all three without touching them.

Maybe a good book was just what I needed to clear my mind and find some peace. I had been curious about the libraries. Knight told me about its vast collection of rare books and artifacts but had yet to see it for myself. As I climbed the stairs to the third floor, I couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and anticipation. When I finally reached the door of the library, I stopped and took a moment to admire the craftsmanship of the wooden door. The intricate carvings depicted scenes of ancient mythology, and I couldn't help but be impressed by the level of detail that went into its creation. The door seemed to radiate an aura of mystery and intrigue, beckoning me to come closer.

He says as he pushed open a large wooden door then steps aside for me to go in first. I stepped inside, and my eyes widened in awe. The library was a vast room, filled with rows upon rows of bookshelves that stretched all the way to the ceiling. The shelves were made of a rich, dark wood, and they were lined with books of every shape and size. There were leather-bound tomes with gold lettering, paperback novels with colorful covers, and even ancient-looking manuscripts with yellowed pages. The room was dimly lit, with only a few soft lamps to illuminate the space. But despite the lack of light, the room felt warm and inviting, like a cozy little sanctuary. I could imagine spending hours in h

The soft groan of wood rang out in the quiet bookstore as Lena turned over the last sign on the door: **CLOSED**. Outside, the city drew a breath, illuminated by amber streetlights and the quiet rumble of passing cars. Within, the world held its breath. Warm. Intimate. Holy.

My dad tries to get me to leave the book, but I tell him what the rest of the paragraph said. My dad moves the panel wider open and steps through, and then when I step over the threshold the panel closes behind me and seals itself back up. I jump a little bit, as a bunch of dim lights start to turn on by themselves. The dim lights lead down a small path to another door that seems like it’s locked when dad tries to open it. However as soon as I step closer with the book, 2 circles appear, 1 on the door and another on the back of the book. I line them up with each other and there is a sound of deadbolts unlocking and the door swings open on its own accord.

He sent a glare my way and I returned it with equal fervor. Sighing, he walked ahead and I followed silently behind, humming softly to myself. We stopped in front of brown double mahogany doors, the intricate design of C. that was carved onto the brass handles caught my eye. Cruz raised his balled fist and knocked twice on the door. I heard a barely audible come in, then he twisted the curved handles of the door and pushed it open. If the endless rows of books stacked on high shelves didn't overwhelm me, I'd blame it on the intense Topaz eyes watching me from across the room.

It made a loud click. Slowly, she pushed the door open. The office was dark, lit only by the dying orange glow of the fireplace. Papers were messy on the floor, and the air smelled like smoke. "Where is it?" I whispered as we slipped inside. "Behind the books," Lisa said. She walked over to a huge wooden bookshelf. She touched the side of a leather book and pulled it. The bookshelf made a loud grinding noise and slid sideways. Behind it was a heavy metal vault door. There was no keyhole—just a flat, smooth piece of black stone.