Invisible Hinge Door Novels & Stories

That would make sense-the lone guard wasn't coming to check on them until back-up arrived. He picked a piece of flat, thin metal out of the wreckage from demolishing the speaker. His guess was that it was part of the hanging hardware. He crossed to the door, eyeing the camera angle. He should be on the very edge of the frame. Luke turned his back, shielding his hands and wedged the metal through to the other side under the door, testing the hinges. The confines of the cave were tight. There wouldn't be enough space to mount a door this heavy in the normal fashion.

With a shaky breath, I took a tentative step toward the imposing structure hidden deep in the shadows. There are ten stone steps leading up to the arched double main entrance door. The doors are solid wood, maybe hard oak or similar with iron scroll hinges, locks, and pull ring handles for each door. On the right-hand door is a black iron door knock, but I’m too far away to make out what it’s in the shape of.

"There's a small logo. 'Safety Glass. Tempered'." "Good. It won't shard. It will crumble." "Comforting." Elion moved to the second door. "Door two. Same lock. Same glass." He locked it. "Door three?" "Check the hinge pins," Cale said. "Are they on the inside or the outside?" Elion checked. "Inside." "Good. They can't be popped from the garden." Elion locked the third door. He closed the drapes, ensuring there wasn't a single gap of light showing.

says Syl, "but we will. I'm going to save my Machiv." "Right," I say with a nod, just as determined as him. We go along the wall more, and stop as a spot where Hala says. Sure enough, hidden behind several gardenia bushes that grow close together to hide it, is a small metal door, barely over one foot. It might have one-and-a-half, but it should be a squeeze before we get to go in. We look carefully through the small gate, but the opening on the other side is shielded by an entire group of trees, shrubs, bushes, and vines.

The top of the door sagged slightly, but it still held. The middle hinge was easier now that I understood the technique, but working at an awkward angle left my shoulders screaming with pain. When that pin finally gave way, the door tilted dangerously, held only by the bottom hinge and the bar on the other side. The bottom hinge was the hardest. I had to lie flat on the floor, working upward with tools that weren't meant for this purpose. My fingers were raw and bleeding, my arms ached, and I'd probably given myself a dozen splinters. But finally, finally, the last pin worked free.

In most houses, this is the vulnerable spot of the doors present but Charles made sure to take care of that in the sense that no amount of kick can bring it down! He also didn't stop there but went ahead to use 3″ screws to attach the hinges to the wall, as well as the frame, making the door sturdier and more secure. And the uniqueness? The door can only be opened from the inside and no type of key or kick can overcome that! Apart from hydraulic nothing else can force the door open except the person inside willingly opens it. I guess that brings questions about how then Ryan and his men entered the room since there was no how they used hydraulic.

What? The hydraulic hinges make the six inch thick hunk of metal pull up like it weighs no more than a piece of paper. Nickolas ducks and starts walking down the metal steps, so we follow. As soon as we get to the bottom he hits another button and the trap door shuts with a small hiss and we are plunged into darkness for a second.

Survive. The back door clicks shut. The house goes quiet in that eerie, vacuum-sealed way that only happens right before violence. I take a breath I don’t feel. Then I step forward. The metal security door rattles as I unlock it. Thick bars. Reinforced hinges. We installed it years ago because Hour insisted. Because he’d grown up knowing doors were never just doors. Behind it is the front door—also metal. Cold. Heavy. No decorative glass. No welcome mat energy. Just function. I open the security door. The second I touch the handle of the front door, it slams inward.

I’ve never seen her so angry. I opened the screen door and to my surprise, there was another inner door made of steel. On what was supposed to be an ordinary knob, there’s a high-tech-looking one. I try my luck and it clicks open after a beep. I examine the porch with its run-down appearance and the clearly abandoned lawn. How strange. How did this kind of door end up with a facade like this? Someone is clearly hiding something. The gears start running in my head. I quickly shoot Tommy a text and pocket my phone. Extinguishing the only light.

If we stayed still, we’d learn nothing—and professors wouldn’t have set this up just to see if we could hide. So we stepped out. The town was exactly as it had been that first morning—shopkeepers opening shutters, the baker sweeping his steps. Too familiar. But I wasn’t watching the square. I was looking at the door we’d just come through. Last night, it had been weathered but intact. Now— A long splinter ran down from the top hinge. The wood was cracked, not from inside, but from outside. Just above the latch, the panel had been pressed inward by something with enough force to bend the grain.