Door Threshold Black Novels & Stories

The air was too still in the glass-walled penthouse on Madison Avenue. From the thirty-seventh floor, the city looked like a jewel box cracked open with sharp light, glittering wealth, and silent ambition. Inside the boardroom, there was no laughter. Only the soft click of expensive watches beneath tailored sleeves, the gentle slide of dossiers across a black marble table, and the expectation of blood. Dorian Blackthorn stepped through the doors like a ghost resurrected. His suit was obsidian black, as though mourning what Velvet had become. A subtle tie pin his only adornment held the shape of a fractured key. Behind him, the doors sealed with a whisper. No one stood. No one clapped. They’d

 She looked straight into the hall through a huge black door made of strong iron and steel, you could tell just by looking at how the guards struggled to close the door. The stairs made with concrete and decorated with ceramics tiles and the railings black in colour, decorated with bouquet of flowers of different colors and ribbons jointing them together. Justin tucked his hands into Veronica's. Veronica looked at his arm into hers. It felt weird for sometime but as they walked through the stairs, it felt normal. They both reached the entrance and the guards at the two ends opened the door slowly, with much effort. Veronica looked through the crowd and turned her gaze into Justin's eyes.

They would not change anything. Rye unlocked the door and walked into the small house. There was a small foyer with twelve-inch tiles of assorted colors and a small gray rug covering the floor. On the right were several hooks with a black bench underneath. On the left was a slim black metal table about four feet high with a pine wood top about six feet long. A gilded mirror hung above on a cream-colored wall.

The shadows swirl along the walls as if they are living entities. Zane leads me down a long hallway with a handful of doors. The hallway is quieter than the rest of the house as I follow him to a dark gray door. Zane puts his hand on the knobless door. When his hands touch the door, it briefly lights up white and opens. We walked into the huge room, which is a cool gray color with black and other shades of gray as well as white. There is no color. There is a sizeable black king canopy bed with gray curtains. A black comforter with matching pillows graces the bed. To the right, there is a little sitting area with a black Victorian looking couch that sits in front of a beautiful black firepla

Grandma always said that the black colour gives a calm atmosphere to concentrate while practicing a spell. I stood in front of it and the huge oak double doors opened by itself, sensing my presence. Those doors were under a spell that could recognise a person's aura. If someone was a resident or came with friendly intentions, it will open itself. But if some ill-willed being tried to enter, it will block them out.

Something old and vast and not entirely physical. I did not let myself think too hard about what that something might be. Drex led me through three sets of enormous doors, each guarded, each opening without a word needing to be spoken, before we arrived at the last and largest set. These were not iron. They were solid black stone, worked with the same dragon motifs as the outer gates, and they were tall enough that I had to lean my head back to see the top of them. Drex stopped. He turned to look at me over his shoulder.

The lock accepted it immediately. A quiet click echoed through the corridor. Nobody breathed. Then Kieran placed his hand on the handle. And for the first time in nearly three decades, Arthur Blackthorne's hidden door began to open. The handle resisted at first. Only slightly. The kind of resistance old metal developed after years without movement. Kieran tightened his grip and pushed again. This time the door shifted inward with a long groan that echoed through the corridor and disappeared into the darkness beyond. Nobody moved. The sound alone seemed to hold us in place.

My finger rested flat against the guard, ready to slip onto the trigger. The lock on these doors was really secure. It required a lot of force to break from the outside or a direct code from the security panel. Someone had used a black metal device to clamp over the frame. It had two wires feeding directly into the internal housing of the door. The mechanical lock had never dropped. The door had simply unlatched itself in the dark. This was not a thief. This was military-grade hardware. I pressed my back against the wall next to the opening. I slid my head out enough to look through the gap.

Ding. The doors parted onto his destination floor. Darren emerged with a fiercely heaving chest, navigating the plushly carpeted corridor as his vision encroached closer to total blackness. With a trembling hand, he pressed his keycard against the digital interface of Unit 3001. Beep. Click. The sound of the deadbolt retracting rang like a bell of salvation in Darren’s ears. He shoved the heavy door open, stepping directly into the dim, hushed sanctuary of the apartment. The atmosphere was dead silent, save for the faint glow of a hallway nightlight cutting through the shadows.

It makes a ding sound and the doors slides open. An immaculate foyer greets me. In colors gray, black and bluish hue. The floors are pristine, shining, I can see my face on the surface. My ankle boots make light sounds as I try to find my way. There’s another lady sitting behind a black desk. She looks up at my entrance. “Hello, how may I help you?”