Skeleton In One's Closet Novels & Stories

That is why they can rip human families apart without remorse. I strode over to the armoire and tried to open it, but it did not budge. I looked closely and realized it had a fingerprint and code lock. It piqued my interest. "What is he hiding in here?" I muttered to myself. Knowing that there was nothing I could do to open it today, I walked into his closet. The crisp scent of cedar met my nostrils as I gazed at the clothes hanging neatly within. I was a bit surprised to find his closet well arranged. Most of his clothes were blazer jackets and button-down shirts in an assorted array of colors. There were some black pants of the cargo variety and five three-piece suits in different colors.

River's Pov. I stared at my closet like it had wronged me. It wasn’t a fancy party. Noah had said so himself—“Just a bunch of college kids at my guy Nate’s house,” he’d texted earlier. “You’ll be bored or drunk before midnight.” And yet, here I was, dissecting every article of clothing I owned like I was about to walk a damn runway. Shirt after shirt ended up in a pile on my bed. Some still had folds from the last time I washed them. Others didn’t feel like me anymore. Or maybe they felt too much like me. Like the version of me I didn’t always let show outside this apartment.

Surely, he is too stoic to show such emotion as lust. I opened the door post-haste to find myself in a closet. Not a small one for Raphael Sinclair, no. My entire bedroom can fill here and still there would be space left. I checked the wardrobe but to my utter horror, all I could find are suits, suits, and more suits. What do you think? That Raphael Sinclair is a closet feminist who likes to wear female clothes? Hardly.

I eventually find the closet, which has a lot of men’s clothes on one side, but the other side is full of dresses, blouses, and skirts, which makes me sigh, yet another place where I can’t be myself. It shouldn’t bother me, but seeing these women’s clothes alongside what I’m assuming to be his makes my heart drop, thinking that he must already have a girl or woman in his life and sharing his room. Walking farther into the closet until I find a full-length mirror that I can approach. I take a step closer, pausing barely an inch away from the mirror, allowing the sleeve of my dressing gown to slide off my shoulder once more. I examine the bite, expecting to find an imprint of his teeth, but wh

A huge mirror and drawers and drawers of skin care. Back to the room, I opened up the closet and I thought I could not be surprised further, there was large walk in closet filled to the brim with clothes, different designers,boots, sneakers, heels, sweaters, dresses, shirts.. most disturbing thing was everything was my size, it felt like the entire room was for…. Me.

He ignored Jed and stood up from the ground as he walked toward where Fane was, calling out loudly to him, “What are you doing? Are you planning to find a way to resolve this array by punching the air?” As he spoke, however, he found himself stepping onto broken bones, and the sound of bones cracking caused Dwight’s heart to sink lower. He subconsciously looked down and was stunned by what he saw. “Senior Brother Jed, come over quickly!” he called out loudly. “Take a look at the clothes he has on him!” Jed immediately struggled up from the ground as he was called. He looked toward the direction Dwight pointed at and spotted a skeleton with clothes that looked much like theirs. However, the c

That piece of shit must keep at least a stash hidden somewhere. Irritated from all the empty finds I was coming up with I hissed a string of insults. Scowling, I was still convinced his closet was the perfect hiding space for him. A piece of white paper was sticking out from one of the jacket pockets that was hanging around in the closet.

Even a room. I opened the door and sighed as I looked around. This place is really spacy and big. Even if I arrange my things, I don't think it will make it reduce its size a bit. It would fill out a really little space out of this room. I shrugged and walked towards the closet anyways. My clothes can't stay in a backpack forever. I opened the closet and removed one of the numerous hanger that are on the horizontally fixed wooden rod. Sorry, I like to try and explain things how I see them.

Aurora’s P.O.V I stare at the wall across from me, my breath caught somewhere between my throat and my lungs, unable to move, unable to think, unable to do anything but let the horror wash over me. My mind refuses to process what I’m seeing, but my eyes won’t look away. There, trapped inside a tall, enclosed glass case, stands a skeleton—dressed in a green dress and wearing a brown wig. I swallow hard, my hands shaking at my sides, my heart hammering so loudly that I can hear it in my ears. That dress. That hair.

Somehow I thought that salutation would be better coming from a hot billionaire than my best friend. "I'm coming," I called as I crawled off my bed and moved toward the door. The locking mechanism clicked when I turned the key. The old house still had skeleton keys for each room. It was how the unused rooms could be locked from the outside. The obvious problem with skeleton keys was that most every one of them was the same. It didn't take a jailer's ring to open any of the doors. All you needed was one key, unless the key was in place on the other side.