Door Threshold Black Novels & Stories

“Look at the floor.” I kept my mouth shut. If I opened it, I would start screaming and I would never stop. They dragged me past the edge of the crowd, through a parting in a heavy velvet curtain, and into another hallway. This one was narrower, quieter, lined with the same dark velvet that absorbed all sound. My clicking heels were muffled now. At the end of this hall was a single door, painted a glossy, absolute black. One guard knocked twice—a specific pattern—waited three seconds, and then pushed the door open.

 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.

Watching the bookshelf slowly moving on the left side making him sign in response. Looking at the black door barely visible in front of him, making him blink his eyes a few times. Taking a step towards it placing his finger over the lock pad hearing the beep right after. Pushing open the door Takeshi walks downstairs followed by another long dark hallway. Turning the switch down the light illuminate through the long hallway. Just then hearing the door being shut behind him with a soft thud making him take a deep breath in. Bookshelf going back at its original place along with the brown book with the red germ the sunlight shining upon it as it sparkles under it.

He could only watch as they did whatever they wanted while praying that they would fail at opening the door. Darren lifted Black Moon up and slashed it in the direction of the stone door violently. A metallic flash was seen, and a gust of strength came out, swooshing toward the door. It hit the door, making a deafening noise. The door, which looked exceptionally thick and weighted, collapsed immediately after. Lyndon was stunned. This door was erected from special materials, but it had been slashed open with just a strike! The stone used to make this door had been painstakingly chosen. Where on Earth did this guy's blade come from? How could it be so powerful?

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

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.