Garage Door Light Blinking Continuously Novels & Stories

It sounds like a scraping sound against my door. I open the door to see what the made the sound. There is nothing in the hallway. I step into the hallway to see if I have a better view when not peeking around a corner. At the far end for the hallway, I notice a little red blinking light on the ground. I slowly make my way towards the little light.

David the Second was trailing behind me, his lower lip slightly pushed out in a stubborn pout. "He tried to override the paddock gate sensors again, Jessica," I rumbled, my deep baritone shaking the quiet air of the room as I walked over to my wife’s chair, my massive hand coming down to rest on the soft curve of her neck. "I was only running a localized range test, Marcus!" David protested, slamming his small terminal onto the corner of the teak desk. "The Bluetooth receiver on the gate has a ten-meter blind spot. If a delivery vehicle stops in that zone, the security grid doesn't log the license plate for four seconds!"

“Quite a nice spot for a talk, don't you think?” I reached for the door handle, but I heard the heavy thud of the automatic locks. I turned to him, my voice rising. “We can just call for a tow. Look, the emergency light is still on. We have a signal.” I pointed at the red glow on the dash, my finger trembling.

When the door closed with a loud click, Alan lowered me to the floor. He turned on the room lights, and a bright light exploded in front of my eyes. The light instantly illuminated a black sedan parked there. It turned out to be a garage. Several shelves filled with worn-out items lay on the sides of the walls. At first glance, it looked like an ordinary garage. “OMG, this is a garage? Is that the exit?” I said softly as my eyes wandered around to notice every detail of the garage. “Yes. It can exit to the side door. Practical, isn't it?”

Then I activated the garage door. I wanted them to hear me and the garage door would make sure of that; I'd hooked the doorbell to the garage door so it would chime when it was opened. I'd thought it was a clever safety feature since we didn't always lock the mud room door at night and this would give us a warning if someone broke in. Now, it would serve as an entirely different kind of warning.

The device on my son’s wrist beeped again. Louder this time. The light turned red. Every vehicle in the garage suddenly locked with a sharp mechanical click. Grant swore under his breath. The woman turned toward the sound, her composure finally cracking. “That shouldn’t be happening yet.” Dylan’s voice dropped dangerously low. “What did you do?” But no one answered. Because the garage lights flickered once. Twice. Then went completely dark. And in the pitch black silence, my daughter whispered one sentence that made my blood run cold.

Lucky for me, it doesn’t look like it’s dirty, but I decide to check again in the morning once it’s light out. Satisfied that there’s nothing wrong, I hit the button for the garage door and step back out into the rain through the side door so I don’t signal the door to stop. Nothing happens. I reach inside and slap the button again, but the door doesn’t budge. Even after a third, harder attempt, there’s no change.

I sense it beneath the floorboards. Within the pipes that produce a beat resembling a pulse. The statue of the Virgin Mary positioned above the doorway inclines her head slightly with each blink I make. I turn on the coffee maker. It bubbles to life like a companion clearing its throat. Then the lights flicker red. Not the usual brown-out flicker. A deliberate pulse. Three times. I understand its meaning. I approach the door unlock it and step out into the early morning cold. The block is resting,. All the streetlights are staring at me.

Before I could respond, the voice cut through again, louder, colder. “Warning: Interference detected.” The air grew heavier. A faint ringing filled my ears, like feedback from a broken microphone. I looked around the room, scanning for the source, but nothing seemed wrong, yet everything felt wrong. “What kind of interference?” I muttered. The system didn’t answer immediately. Instead, a sharp flash of light blinked from Gloss’s wrist, and a string of unreadable code burst across the screen, shifting too fast to make sense. Gloss tried to shut it off, tapping the buttons, but it ignored him. “It’s locked,” he said, panic seeping into his voice.

She pointed discreetly as we skirted the corner, now devoid of guards. We continued, our footsteps echoing softly, until we reached a nondescript door secured with an electronic lock. "Memorize this spot, this door," Nadine said, her fingers deftly working her smartphone. "At the right time, our hacker will disengage the lock. Notice the light on the lock—red signifies it's secured. But when it flickers to green..." As if on cue, the light switched from red to green. "Exactly like that. It's your signal to enter." She pushed the door open, revealing a hidden garage. "Through here, you'll find the car for your escape."