How To Pick Locks Novels & Stories

I didn’t know why, but for some reason, I felt a strange sense of familiarity as I looked at the keyhole. My intuition told me that I would be able to open the lock. I wasn’t sure, but I wanted to try. I detached a ring-shaped pin from the mask I was wearing and straightened it, converting it into a thin long iron wire. After I slowly inserted it into the keyhole, I followed my tactile sensation and turned it. A miracle then happened I really opened the lock. I felt incredible when I saw this. When did I learn to pick locks? Why didn’t I know this fact about myself? Who had taught me this sneaky skill? I felt a migraine coming on as my memory seemed to blur a little.

Bianca pulled the small knife from its hiding place at the small of her back. She examined it carefully in the dim light of the room. The blade was short but sturdy. The kind designed for cutting rope or opening boxes. Not ideal for lock picking but it was all she had. She approached the door and knelt down to examine the lock. Standard commercial grade. The keyhole was visible on her side, which gave her hope it might be simple enough to manipulate. Bianca had never picked a lock in her life. But she had watched enough movies and television to have a basic idea of how it worked. Something about pushing the pins up while turning the mechanism.

I stride into my room, retrieve a pin from my makeup kit, and return back to the door. I've never picked a lock in my life, but I've seen enough YouTube videos to know how to go about it. I glance around briefly to make sure no one was near, although at this point I couldn't care less. I'm desperate and angry. And these are things only and desperate and angry girl is capable of. I take hold of the doorknob, squat down so I'm at eye level with the lock and stick the pin in. I begin to test the pins with the other. I barely know what I'm doing but it's been proven to work.

A soft, rhythmic sound, like paper sliding against paper. Someone was in my room. I reached into my jacket pocket and wrapped my fingers around a lockpick set I always kept in my pocket.It wasn't a weapon,not really, but the metal picks were sharp, and I'd learned long ago that surprise was better than brute force. The door swung open under my touch. The sight stopped my heart. The room had been destroyed.

My eyes landed on the shelves and the old rusted tools arranged on them. I moved quickly, grabbing the first thing that looked remotely helpful—a small metal rod. I went back to the door. Kneeling down, I shoved the rod into the lock and started working it slowly. It wasn’t the first time I’d picked a lock and definitely not the hardest. It just took patience. After a while, a soft click echoed. I froze and listened. Still nothing. Good. Very slowly, I turned the handle and pushed the door open just enough to slip through.

I unveiled the pin and its tip was bright red with my blood on its silver stand. I shook my head before breathing in and out. I saw the hole where the key was supposed to go in and gulped. I knew you could use pins to pick a lock, but had I actually tried it before? I think you should have been able to get your answer by now. Deciding there was no time to waste, I jammed the pin into the hole and gave it a few turns. It didn't budge. I felt my heart drop to my feet. This wasn't happening. It couldn't. I pulled it out and pushed it in again, this time harder than the first time. I heard something click and instinctively, I twisted it. It was hard but I eventually got it done. Stealing one las

Third Person POV Liam flexes his neck, cracking his knuckles as he walks over to the lock. It has a number pad on it, attached a clicking mechanism at the edge of the door that allows it to swing open and close. Ten numbers, two symbols. An asterisk and a number sign. Thousands of possible combinations. But he thinks back to the time he saw the man trying out the locks. It didn’t seem too complicated. He didn’t appear like he was pressing a lot of buttons.

Josh read the article again and got ready to open the locker. He held the shackle on top and pushed the dial to the left. He spun the dial around and the lock clicked between 8 and 10. Quickly he told Zoey to scribble 15 on a sheet of paper. This done he turned the lock backwards till it'd reset itself. Then he spun it forward, gently applying pressure on the shackle. The lock bumped as if it'd hit something and Josh told Zoey to write 4 on the same paper. Now Josh had to guess between the numbers. He tried different combinations but it refused to open. He tried the other way, putting pressure on the shackle and the lock clicked several times.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small metallic lock-picking tool. It wasn't particularly impressive. Just a simple piece of metal. However, the confidence in his expression suggested otherwise. Darren blinked. "You know how to pick locks?" "A few useful survival skills never hurt anyone." Desmond winked. Then he crouched before the padlock and got to work. Click. Click. Click. The lock-picking tool moved carefully inside the mechanism. Minutes passed. Then several more. Darren gradually became impatient. Ivy, however, remained calm.

Poking it into the lock, a quarter of an inch or so, gives me the traction to bend the end of the pin slightly to the left. A second pin, folded back on itself, gives me my lever. I'm ready. To push it inside the lock... apply pressure to one side... and... Nothing happens. The pin won't enter the lock. ? I push harder, prodding, then stabbing with my improvised lock-pick. It won't go in. WTF? Doubling over, twisting to the side, craning my neck to see, I peer at the keyhole of the padlock... Then, at the tell-tale smear, draw a fingernail over the slight roughness.