Booktok Doorframe Novels & Stories

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.

It disappeared and the gates open. “She, does he means Ana or the girl in black?” Van thought. Van and Cara are the first to enter the gates. Kirsten and the rest hesitated, yet no one wants to be left out here with the metal face so they follow with their eyes closed. Van and the rest then emerge into a vast chamber or a void perhaps for there is no floors, walls or ceilings here. There are only doors here, lots and lots of doors floating around like hooded ghosts. Van approaches the nearest one. The door must be more than eight feet tall for it towers above Van’s head. Carved around the decorated knocker is an inscription:

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.

A bicycle with one wheel missing leaned against a shelf. Then I saw it. A door. It was tucked away behind a shelf, small and wooden, with a rusted lock. The key in my pocket burned against my leg. My father’s words from the journal came back… “f you’re reading this, it means you found the door." I pulled the shelf aside, coughing from the dust. The door looked older than the rest of the house. Its frame was crooked, as if someone had built it in a hurry. My hands shook as I tried the key.

After a few moments, the door clicked and unlocked. “Get inside, and don’t ever play hero again.” he literally pushed me inside. “Fine, the magic door. You can figure that out.” He hurriedly went out and locked the door behind me. I was in the old study, with tall bookshelves filled with hardbound books. I went through it, finding the magic door, like he said. I looked down. It usually had scrapes on the floor or a dent on the carpet. And I was right. I pulled all the books until I found resistance. I pushed it back, and it clicked. The shelf moved, and I entered to see faces staring at me incredulously as if I had just gone insane.

Literally. I open my eyes to the surrounding darkness—three spotlights come on, illuminating one unique door each. On the left stands one made of stone, intricate designs carved in its rusted metallic frame. A light blue one stands with snow covering its edges and pilling at the bottom to the right. The one I face, the middle door, is made of dark brown wood with little glass windows all around, providing an insight into what's behind it—green vegetation dancing with the wind, possibly a forest. Claw marks are imprinted in its center.

He nodded slowly and before he could say anything more, the bedroom door swung open. Erick and Jess stood at the doorway; they were both breathless, so we knew they were running. Jess held one of the thickest books I had ever seen; it was a large brown book with golden decals swirled throughout the cover. In the front of the book, in a silvery oval was a white infinity symbol I didn’t quite recognize and then written in white above the symbol read: Book of Magic. “Woah…” I breathed, staring at the book. It was real.

"Yes, Michael." I turn to look at Roman and say; "Let's see if we can get this door open, shall we?" I walk closer to the door. I step on a flat piece of rock, and I hear a click sound on the other side of the door. I try to push, but the door is not moving. I start to feel around the frame to see if I can not detect something that might stick out. I feel three-round pieces sticking out of the frame. One is on the left side, the other on the right, and the last one on the top part of the frame. I call out;

But the main discovery is a door. The door is new, along with the frame it is set in. Heavyweight steel, cemented into an old vaulted arch and unpleasantly slimy in the dank air, it blocks the tunnel. A heavy-duty lock drives thick steel bars deeply into the surrounding stone. This door is designed only to be opened from one side.

She did not look directly at the portrait, but instead looked straight at the door, but from the corner of her eye, she could not help but see the burning gaze of the man on the portrait that sent chills all over her body and made the skin on her neck stand on its ends. Flora immediately tried the knob and found the door to be unlocked. Maya did say that she had unlocked the doors to the rooms that needed to be cleaned and the blankets, sheets and curtains needed to be replaced. The door itself was bigger than her own door at the servants’ quarters, Flora thought. It was heavy and reddish in color, in keeping with the theme of the house. Flora wondered about the source of the wood which woul