Red Door Yellow Door Story Novels & Stories

Vincent raised his head slightly. Arthur turned his back only to see a red door. He was bemused because this door was different. Every door that led to Nicodemus memory were blue and not red. "I think we've found our weapon." Vincent muttered while they both stared at the red door.

Plus the fact that they rarely turn on the lights so he didn’t really have the chance to saw the paintings that are hanging in the wall. Blaine… Come here… Go inside Blaine… He heard some voices again but Blaine ignored them thinking that it’s just his imagination playing with him. He immediately walk towards the kitchen until he passed by a strange room bound with a chain and several padlocks. Blaine… Go inside Blaine… Go inside…. Again. But this time the voices seems louder, as if they are just right there behind these doors. He didn’t know but his body moves on its own and was about to hold the touch the chain when someone spoke from behind

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

I tilted my head, giving a small nod. Kyle reached out and pressed the spine of a blue book. It shifted. Slide inward. A soft, mechanical click followed, and the entire bookshelf trembled before slowly pulling away—revealing a hidden door concealed behind it. My breath caught. Kyle stepped closer, gripping the golden doorknob. He twisted it twice in opposite directions. Click. The sound echoed softly in the stillness. Then, with a long, creaking sigh— the door opened. My jaw fell open the moment I stepped inside.

Darker. It was for my own selfish interests. Most of the doors were the usual colors. Soft blues for peaceful dreams, gentle greens for nature-inspired fantasies, warm yellows for happy memories. Some pulsed with brighter light, indicating particularly vivid dreams. Others were darker, showing the troubles their dreamers were processing. But one door caught my attention immediately. It was bright red. Not the soft red of roses or the warm red of sunset, but the harsh, violent red of fresh blood. The door pulsed like a heartbeat, and I could feel waves of guilt radiating from it even from across the cloudy space.

“We eat on it, not marry it.” *Month 4: The Yellow Wall* Demo day for Lila’s room. Contractor: “We can re-drywall this. Smooth it out. Prime it. Paint it whatever she wants now. Purple. Pink.” Kael: “No.” Contractor: “But it’s damaged. It’s—” “Yellow,” Lila said, running in with her backpack. “AND IT STAYS YELLOW.” Kael crouched. “Why, bug?” Lila thought hard. 5-year-old serious.

A sound in the hallway, footsteps running. Her mother knelt in front of her. Yeva's hands were on Tatiana's shoulders, and her face was frightened in a way Tatiana had never seen before. "Whatever happens," her mother said, "don't open the red door." "Why?" "Because your brother is behind it." Tatiana's eyes snapped open. She was back in the bedroom, the wolf in her lap, her breath coming too fast. She closed her eyes again. A gap beneath a door. Red paint, peeling at the bottom. A boy's hand reached through, fingers small and pale, grasping at the air. A whisper. Her name, shortened the way no one else said it.

But no one dares to slow down or else they will be snatched by those dead looking hands. “A little more guys, I can see a door,” Van said breathlessly. They are almost there; the door is just fifteen paces away, then ten paces, then five. And now the door is within their reach and Van seizes the knob. “IT’S LOCKED,” he shouted as the others frantically bang the door with their fist. The creature is coming, and it’s almost here! With their minds high in adrenaline time seems to slow down. And the door opens and a pair of saving hands reaches for them.

Perhaps that is the distinguishing difference, and of course I have no way to tell what each color symbolizes. Suddenly, I hear voices from up ahead. They are getting louder so I know I will run into the owners of these voices soon. I panick and reach for the door handle to a grey door on my right. It's locked. I rush to the next one on the right, a pale yellow one, just past the last. It is locked too. Shit! I pray the next one opens and that it is empty. It is a bright red door and it isn't locked. I open it, rush inside, and quietly shut it behind me. My back is pressed up against the door. My eyes are closed and I am focusing on deep breaths so that my heart stops its chaotic fluttering.

He said as she looked around the room. “So should I go?” She asked. “Yes.” He said, and then he got up and stretched. Then he winced at his arm when he moved it. “However, open the door, look outside, and then shut the door quickly. When they aren’t there, don’t do or say anything. Just come back in and lock the door.” “That sounds too easy,” Haven said. “They will think you wish to play, then. It will be about a half an hour, and then they will do it again.” Mack said. “It will continue the entire night. Know that darkness surrounds the house. They think they have the advantage here.”