Red Door Yellow Door Stories Novels & Stories

Um ... What should I tell you? Something interesting and with many adventures? Or a drama full of mystery? Good! I have the perfect story full of all that and more! Listen carefully. A long time ago, a story was told about two princes who knew nothing about their origins. That is why they had no real names. One had orange eyes like the sunset and yellow hair like the rays of the sun. The other prince was completely white, only his pupils were red.

He ran towards the smaller part of the town, where shops were small and dark, where lanes were narrow and dirty, and houses were only four walls and a roof. "Good morning Mr. Ben," he said as he entered inside one of the doors on the lane. It opened up into a dark room, with no windows and lighted by only a small yellow bulb. He was greeted by the musty smell of old unused books. It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. There were books strewn all around the room, just as he had left them the day before. "What's so good about the morning Shiva? I don't see how it is a 'good' morning. And you are late again. I won't have this behavior,” came a muffled, croaky sound from a

The way he looked at her like she was breakable and already breaking. She walked slowly to the hallway, past the closet, past the bathroom, to the door at the end. The study. She had never been inside. He always kept it shut. It hadn’t mattered before, but now, it throbbed in her mind. A locked door. A secret. Maybe the truth. She hesitated. Then turned the handle. Unlocked. She stepped in. The air was cooler. Dim. The room was small but lined with shelves, books stacked in chaotic towers on the floor and windowsills. A desk sat at the far end, littered with old cameras, a sketchpad, and a glass tumbler with the remnants of whiskey.

Legend has it that they were the first wolves to travel the Earth, and that they had incredible powers conferred on them by the Goddess of the Moon herself. Walking to the large dark brown doors, I noticed all the sculptures they contained. It looked like a group of wolves screaming at the moon. The doors opened squeaking and we all entered. The room was large, the ceilings were high and there was a large podium in the middle where they were all sitting. They were all dressed in elegant dresses, but none of them seemed to be more than thirty years old. Fortunately, they all smiled brightly, which helped to calm my nerves slightly. They started conversing with my brothers while I stood on my

It seems these are the words they needed to hear as many she-wolves that are taken by Ragers are found either dead at the end of The Run, or never to be seen again. “Now lets push this stupid door open and get the heck away from here.” The redhead chuckles out, moving towards the heavy steel door blocking our final path to freedom. With a smile, I watch as she pushes against it, the door slowly moving forward. I move forward, joining her as we use what remaining strength we have to push our way out until a blinding light greets us.

In 1983 a Mrs Carson of New York was laid out in our coffin, presumed dead of hear disease. As mourners watched, she suddenly sat up, alive as you or I. Unfortunately her daughter dropped dead of fright on the spot. I don't own any of this stories. I found them in some creepy books. I'm thinking of writing my own scary stories, but not anytime soon. You can send me your short stories for a feature if you feel like it. Thanks for reading. Enjoy!I don't own any of this stories. I found them in some creepy books. I'm thinking of writing my own scary stories, but not anytime soon.

I had chosen a small town in southern Italor, a place where Mom had lived as a young girl. Mom often told me stories about this place when I was little. She'd tell me about the white houses surrounded by lemon trees, an azure coastline, and the peace of church bells echoing through the mountains at dusk. After Mom passed away, Dad had wanted to bring me here to settle down, but he was always too tied up with the family business to make it happen. Now, I had come on their behalf. I rented a small apartment facing the sea, with its white walls slightly warmed by the sun. On the windowsill sat a pot of blooming bougainvilleas.

"She's dead as soon as she opens the door for them! Paolo will snatch everything he sees, Quinto will throw open all the windows to attract the zombies, and Marco will force her into giving up her supplies at knife point!" "And when they eventually kill her dog in the end, that good-for-nothing Valerio will still be too damn scared to even make a peep!" However, if I didn't open the door for them, all four of them would die outside my door. "Gemma Barletta!" Valerio pounded on the door again. "The zombies are right outside! You heard them! Hurry up and open the door!" Paolo also threw his weight against the door, making the door shake and rattle even more loudly than before.

Joshua Lawson, my old college buddy, had become a private eye. "Dig up some dirt for me on Yoel. While you're at it, get the scoop on him and Sheila in Francoria since three years ago, the nitty-gritty, the more the better. Oh, and check if there's any record of Sheila having an abortion at any local hospitals." I hung up and stared into the harsh daylight, an emptiness settling in my chest. 'Sheila, I’ve given you more chances than I can count. If this is how it is, then all we've got left is the final showdown,' I thought to myself.