Booktok Door Frame Lean Novels & Stories

The others had followed her lead and were all headed to their own doors. “I guess the saying, ‘You can’t judge a book by its cover’ works on doors too,” Beecher teased, poised and ready to open his own door. It was not painted and in fact looked to be made of distressed wood. “If there was any justice you would find a doggie bed inside your door.” Aquina blushed, knowing she had been caught trying to find the fanciest room.

Haley crossed to the door and began examining the hinges, how the two swinging pieces were attached. "They made sure to tell me this bar that the doors attach to is anchored into the foundation." "But what about the hinges? The screws? Bolts? One weak point could change everything." She was aware of Konstantin at her back while she went over the doors. They weren't cheaply made, which was a disappointment. The bars were as thick as her thumb, so not likely to bend, and she doubted they'd be able to break them. And there were no hinges. The post went through holes formed into the gates.

Not quite a smile. "Come in," he said, and stepped back from the door. The inside of the house was not what I had expected. I had prepared myself for an extension of the fourteenth floor. The controlled stark look, the deliberate quiet, the atmosphere of a space that had been designed to function rather than to feel. But the entrance hall had a child's drawing framed on the wall. A large figure and a small figure standing in front of something that might have been a house or might have been a tree. The large figure had dark scribbled hair. The small figure had what appeared to be a rabbit under one arm.

It possessed a geometry that was too perfect for the rough, organic interior of the hut. It was a Door. The frame shimmered with a faint, violet luminescence, pulsing gently like a slow heartbeat. The center of the door was a swirling vortex of black, but deep within that blackness, Ressi could see faint glimmers, like distant galaxies spinning in a void. It looked deep—impossibly deep. The fire in the hearth seemed to shrink away from it. The temperature in the hut plummeted. Fear, cold and primal, washed over him. He scrambled backward until his back hit the reed door he had been about to open. "Mungu wangu," he whispered.

I hear a rush of movement outside, and then– BAM! The door shakes violently and I see a crack split through the center. But the structure still stands steady like a sentinel as dust sprinkles down from the top. Another bang resounds through the space and I watch one of the hinges tear partly off the wall with a loud snap. My eyes widen, fingers digging deep into the couch as I hold my breath. With a deep growl that shakes my very bone, I hear Kellan slam his foot into the door with finality.

Julian was beside her with considerably less of the sheet covering him and an expression on his face that moved through surprise and irritation and landed on something that was mostly irritation. "Out," he said. "Your door was open," I said. "It was not open." "It was four inches open." "That is not open, Kai, that is a door that did not fully latch, which is a thing that happens with old hinges, and a person with any social awareness understands the difference and does not walk through it."

Escuridade approached the heavy wooden entrance door constructed from thick vertical planks reinforced with horizontal braces. The door featured wrought iron hinges and hardware, emphasising its handcrafted construction. Flanking the doorway are two traditional lanterns mounted on ornate metal brackets and numerous decorative planters and wooden crates surround the entrance. She pushed the door open to see the shop interior. A long wooden counter stretched nearly the entire width of the general merchant stone. Ot is constructed from thick oak planks reinforced with vertical framing and displays visible grain, knots, scratches and signs of years of use.

“That old door was an invitation to a break and enter. I’m surprised you didn’t have anyone do that before this, Kiera. It was bad. Truly not safe for you or anyone to have. Anyone could just break the window, reach in, and open the door.” “So if you’ve done that, how is the blood dealer supposed to enter?” Dean raised one finger to tell her to wait and watch. He opened the door. He’d placed a storm door on the other side of the heavy wooden door. He left it like that, with the glass storm door closed but the wooden door open. Now the light flooded into the space more than it ever had. Kiera blinked a few times, and she tilted her head to acknowledge that was an improvement and a fix to the

"I don't think it's too big." "You don't?" "No." "So why won't it fit?" George pointed toward one corner. "You're trying to take it straight through." Lee blinked. "Oh..." "Turn it sideways." Lee laughed quietly. "That makes a lot more sense." Together, they lifted the bookshelf. George guided one end while Lee carefully turned the other. Within seconds... The shelf slid neatly through the doorway. Lee stared at it for a moment. "...I spent fifteen minutes fighting that thing." George chuckled. "Happens to everyone."

The grass was overgrown, vines crawled up the walls, and the doors and windows were boarded up. I yanked on the plywood, and it didn't budge. I was searching for another way in when Corey handed me a crowbar, and I worked my way around the door frame to reveal the front door still intact. I fidget with my keys and unlock the door. The dust flew up, the furniture was covered with linens, cobwebs laced the light fixtures, and the wood creaked.