Class 1 A Door Novels & Stories

He asked, "Remember this? At Harrowell Library, you were reading by the window. The sun was shining on you, and I thought there wouldn't be anyone in the world as beautiful as you." I snapped the box shut. "The past is the past." "I can't let it go. I just can't," he said, all serious. Rain poured down in Hudson City that night. I figured he would leave, but then security called me way past midnight. "Ms. Douglas, Mr. Carter's still downstairs." I peeked out the window, and there he was—standing in the rain, stubborn as ever. "Let him in." I sighed. He was soaked through when he stood at my door, looking like a total mess.

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:

Deeper. We reached a door. It was heavy steel, painted grey. Kaela pressed her hand against a small black panel. A light scanned her palm. The door unlocked with a solid clunk. She pulled it open. Beyond was a garage. But it was not a normal one. It was small, stark, and lit by harsh white lights. Three vehicles waited. They were not the sleek, black cars I expected. One was a battered delivery van. One was a plain silver sedan. The last was a dirty white utility truck with a ladder on its roof. They looked ordinary. They looked invisible.

My hands tightened as I looked at him, the rest of the students clapped and cheered. “You got two hours to settle in.” He said and walked away. The rest seven people scurried to their studio. I walked slowly. A girl got the first one, another the second. Mine’s L8-08. The last ending. I smiled as I stepped in. The glass is opaque. I stared at the reader's strip above the door. I hold my card up the reader and the door is cleared open into two. I chuckled. There's a large piece of writing that says: “My personal space.”

I’m not materialistic in the slightest but this room might make me reconsider all of that. “Faythe, breakfast is on the table and your first class is in an hour.” Alice calls through the door as I scan the clothes in the cupboard. I glance over at the closed door, which is still locked securely so no one can come in. I know the door is warded but I’ve never had a lock to be able to keep people out and I appreciate the added security.

When we entered this classroom Shin immediately locked the door and turned on the light. I looked around. There is no window on the side where the opposite is the hallway, the other side looks like it has a window but it is covered by a very thick curtain that the only light that serves is this light. The two doors at either end automatically need a key card. In the end, there is what looks like a mini-clinic, and there is also a locker there that I just saw, because most of all the classroom—no, all the lockers are there in the locker hallway. And the seats that are over twenty are one seat apart away from each chair and table. The size of this classroom is triple the size compared to the o

'BANG' The classroom door swung open and Phil was startled. He quickly raised his chair ready to smack whatever creature comes out of the door. A man in a Janitor uniform with a white cap entered the classroom and was shocked that someone was still there, he nodded at Phil as Phil slowly put the chair back down.

The chamber was divided into several rooms, each with its unique energy. Emberlynn could count ten doors in total; that was ten rooms in total as well, and she wondered what lay in those rooms. A room particularly caught her attention. It was at the center, and on the door with the bold, block-lettered sign was written, DO NOT ENTER." The door was made of thick, dark wood, and it seemed to radiate an aura of power and mystery. The more she gazed at the door, the more it pulled her in.

The air smells of polished wood, old books, and something faintly metallic, like rain on iron. Portraits line the walls, faces half-lost in shadow. Eyes that seem to follow me as I pass. Mrs. Thorn’s heels click against the floor as she leads me deeper into the academy. “Classes begin tomorrow. Your schedule will be delivered to your room. You’re in the East Wing. Girls’ floor. Room thirteen.” I nodded. We stop before a heavy wooden door. The key she pulls from her pocket is old, iron, and when it turns in the lock, it lets out a squeaky sound.

Languages that suggested age, tradition, things that predated my understanding. And then I saw it. One of the forbidden doors — unmistakable, heavy, black wood with no knob. I’d been warned about doors like this on my first day. “Some rooms are not for guests,” I’d been told in that careful, clinical tone that made warnings sound like medical diagnoses. “Some doors stay closed.” But this one… was open. Just barely. A breath of space between frame and edge. Like someone forgot. Or like someone wanted it found.