Novel & Cerita Booktok Doorframe

I pressed my fingers lightly against the painting’s gilded frame. “I don’t know you… but you look like him.” My voice sounded too loud in the silent corridor. I wondered if he could hear me. If any of them could. All these people frozen in oil and canvas, guarding their secrets in silent judgement. I shook myself and kept moving, hugging my arms tightly to my chest as the corridor narrowed and twisted. That’s when I saw it. The door. It was unlike any other in the manor. Made entirely of black stone, veins of dark silver running through it like frozen lightning. The handles were wrought iron twisted into claw shapes, almost organic. Like they could curl around my wrists if I wasn’t careful.

Every item looked as though it had been chosen to make me feel calm and cared for—an odd cruelty if the goal was to frighten me, or an equally odd tenderness if the goal was to recruit me. I tested the doors and windows again, more thoroughly this time. The back door gave the faintest, soundless resistance—an engineered stop, not an accident. The bars at the windows were bolted on the outside, the screws painted over to match the frame. Someone with means and patience had prepared this place for me.

Father traced his fingers over the books that lined the shelves, completely ignoring me. He came to a halt in front of the frame of one of the shelves, pressing against it hard. My confusion was soon replaced by shock as the shelf lifted off the floor slightly, leaving an opening. The books on it looked quite real, but the shelf clearly served as a door to a part of the library no one else knew of, except my father. He pulled the door open, just enough for both of us to enter, and then he did, gesturing for me to follow.

He stepped toward the door, his hand resting on the latch. The air coming from the cracks around the frame smelled sharply of old dust and something metallic, like rusted iron left in the rain. “If something attacks us, I deal with it,” he continued, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You focus on staying alive. Understood?” he did not wait for her confirmation. He pressed his weight against the door, pushing it open slowly. On the other side of the door was a large, dimly lit stone storage room. Tall wooden shelving units line almost every wall. They are packed with wooden crates, barrels, ceramic pots, metal vessels, rolled fabrics, sacks, books, boxes and other supplies. Numerous woo

I had a lot of stares from the pack and a lot of heads being nodded in my direction. “They bow to the queen of the south!” echoed forcibly in my head. “OKKKKKKK. Let’s rein that ego in.” My wolf huffed in reply but did no such thing, if anything she puffed out her chest more just to annoy me. I inwardly groaned. Today was going to be a challenge in more ways than one. The library doors were a light oak wood with glass panels that had intricate floral designs of green and gold inlaid onto them. They were beautiful and as Becca went in I stayed and ran my finger over all the intricate details.

Dook turned toward the glow, staring into the narrowing gap of the door. - Another burst of power, Alud quickly to the wall! commanded the librarian. Alud quickly pressed himself against the wall next to Duk, breathing heavily. The door practically closed, several powerful streams of fire managed to escape through a narrow gap, dousing the werewolves with heat. The door finally closed, with a slight click of the internal lock. A small shudder ran through the walls, caused by a powerful burst of fire from the body of the Volkodlak. In a moment, everything was silent, only breathing and the crackling of the torch in Alud's hands.

Alexander stepped into the room right behind me and slammed the double doors shut, sliding a heavy brass security bolt into place. Outside, heavy footsteps were rapidly approaching the door. Someone began kicking violently against the thick wood, trying to break the lock. "Hurry, Chloe!" Alexander hissed, rushing over to the large bookshelf on the far wall. He pulled a hidden lever tucked behind a dark red book. With a low hydraulic hiss, the entire bookshelf slid open, revealing a thick steel door. Alexander typed a rapid six-digit code into the glowing numeric pad beside the steel frame. The heavy door unlocked with a loud metallic click.

Frame Me By Roman This book is dedicated to the readers who gave this book a chance. NOTE First of all, let's get the geography right. There's a city called Ranem. Ranem has twelve blocks. The two explored in this book are Gulden and Odton. Odton's unofficial name is Ganghaven. I don't want you getting confused. Please, if you like the book, feel free to leave a review. It won't hurt. I apologize in advance for any grammatical and structural errors you might come across, I'm trying to get the book edited.

Something about the picture just didn't sit right with me. Just like Ma Levine had said, we finally reached the second floor where she had said my room would be. We walked down the long corridor, passing different doors before coming to one that looked to have been specially made differently from the rest. The door post bore complex designs, one that spoke of the majesty that laid behind the huge frame. The door itself looked as though it was created by some of the greatest craftsmen. It stood tall and wide, its top reaching at about seven feet in height. Its knob, made from brass, seemed to have been polished by the finest oil as it's surface mirrored the awed expression that I had on my fa

Dust motes, disturbed by our violent entry, danced in the few slivers of gray light that cut through the grimy, high-set windows, illuminating a vast, shadowy expanse of towering bookshelves that receded into an abyssal darkness. The door, splintered around the lock, wouldn’t latch. Jake immediately threw his weight against it, his boots skidding on the polished marble floor. “It won’t hold! I need to brace it!” he grunted, the strain evident in his voice as the door shuddered under an impact from the other side. A pale, grasping hand shot through the gap, fingers clawing at the air.