Sliding Closet Door Handle Novels & Stories

He walked straight to the built-in closet, his large hand gripping the leather pull handle and ripping the door wide. The interior was half-empty, but the remaining items were arranged with a terrifying, calculated precision. Hanging in the center of the cedar rail were three charcoal cashmere sweaters, identical in weave, thread count, and color to the one Ava currently wore. Below them sat two pairs of dark leather house shoes, their soles completely unblemished, matching the exact pair Ava had left in the master suite closet prior to the exile.

Glancing at the kitchen window, I see Juliet watching me, and putting on my most comforting smile, I ignore the excited dog beside me and wait for her to get started on her breakfast cooking. This far removed from town and with as little of material value that we have, there’s never been a need to put a lock on the cellar’s storm doors— the slide bolt's been sufficient. Examining them now, I suspect that’s changed. The bar that normally keeps them closed is angled out of alignment, and one of the hinges on one door is badly bent.

I stood so fast the chair scraped against the floor. Then, I bolted Spinning toward the door, already gripping the handle. But his hand was faster. SLAM. His palm met the wood beside mine, slamming the door shut before I could even tug it open. Then came the soft, unmistakable click of the lock turning. I looked down, stunned, as his fingers slid the key from the lock, and tossed it. Somewhere. Far. We both watched it clink against the floor and disappear into some forgotten corner neither of us even tried to see.

Slipping it on and doing some of the buttons up, when I got out of here and in my car, I’d do up the rest. Making my way to my clothing from the night before, I scooped them up and hurried out of the room. I ran down the hallway, towards the front door. Stopping to grab my purse from the little end table before turning towards the door. I gave the handle a tug, but it wouldn’t budge. There was no way to open the door, there was a small metal box near the handle with a keypad on it. I wished that I’d been paying more attention last night, when he’d typed in the code.

It’s just too thin. The cloth like cover torn by accident while I sticking my nails in between the very thin opening. I took it off and found a handle at the bottom. It is a secret door, just like what I have in my room. My heart is raising again as I used my force to open it upwards. There is another door. I opened it by the small doorknob and is surprised to see something I least expected.

said Magda no less calmly, but the tail of her eyes had been staring warily at Avelyn's hand which was about to open the sliding door quickly. "I wonder what's stored in this wardrobe." Magda couldn't stop Avelyn from opening the sliding cupboard. In a single pull, Avelyn had put all of her strength into opening the dark sliding door that had intrigued Avelyn from the start. "No ma’am!" "Why can't this be opened?" Avelyn snorted huffily when there wasn't the slightest movement of the sliding door Avelyn was trying to open.

There was a discrepancy of about six feet behind the master suite’s walk-in closet. She made her way to the master bedroom, the air growing cooler the closer she got. She pushed open the heavy double doors of the closet, the smell of cedar and expensive, tailored wool greeting her. She moved the rows of suits, the racks of ties, and the shelves of unworn watches, her hands feeling along the mahogany paneling. She expected nothing. She hoped for nothing. But then, her fingertips brushed against a cold, metallic seam. A hidden hinge. She pressed her thumb against a small, circular indentation, and with a soft, pneumatic hiss, a section of the wall receded.

At the pack house I’d had a bathroom the size of a small apartment with a tub you could swim in and heated floors and products lined up on glass shelving that cost more than most people’s monthly rent. This bathroom had a shower with decent pressure, a mirror with a slight lean to the left, and a window above the sink that let in a thin line of evening air. I preferred this one. I turned on the tap and set my clothes on the edge of the sink and turned to close the door behind me. The door clicked. I frowned. I tried the handle. It turned but the door didn’t move. I tried again … same result. “Okay,” I said aloud to nobody.

There is some steam evaporating as I look at it. The way is paved with limestones. It's not slippery which is good. The grass was trimmed and most of the trees were pruned as well. I immediately opened the huge door. I tried pushing and pulling but it won't budge. I found out, it was a sliding door made of black oak.

It looks like some kind of handle. I fitted my hand into it and pulled at it. The door swung open, unhooked from a magnetic latch at the top. Inside of it was a small cubby space stretching the length of the mirror. There were various items inside that were hard to see. They looked like they were sitting on a hook or… shelf? I felt around for the light switch, finding it tucked into the wall's panel and flicking it up. Light illuminated the space from above, casting a bright arch of light.