Sliding Door Moment Novels & Stories

Just as he reached the doorway, a steel shutter began to drop. Fast too fast.Justina choked. “Carson GO!” He threw himself at the gap, shoving Justina forward first. Her body slid under the narrowing space with inches to spare. Then the shutter slammed onto Carson’s back. He roared in pain.justuna screamed. “CARSON!” He braced his palms under the door, muscles shaking violently against the crushing weight. Sparks rained off the metal as it groaned downward, gears grinding, trying to close with unstoppable force.

When I was inside, she quickly went back outside and closed the sliding door that led to the pool area to avoid me. I walked back to the sliding door and upon seeing me, she instantly held the door from outside to hinder me from opening it and getting out. I laughed at her action, it was just too cute in my eyes. Surely, she didn't manage to stop me with her physical strength. I was a man and undeniably stronger than her. So within seconds, the sliding door was opened again and she grumbled as I marched to grab hold of her body. I moved my mouth closer to her right ear and whispered to her in a raspy voice. "Let's go."

Slumping over slightly, I dragged my feet as I walked around the house, to the back patio door. The door was a sliding glass door, which was already opened. Stepping inside, I winced when my feet hit the cool floor. Not even a second later, I was spun around, and my mouth was suddenly covered by Cyran’s. Unlike the first time, he didn’t let the kiss linger.

WINTER POV I had no idea how long we had been in that position (Slade was still inside of me), but the shuffling of feet outside the door brought me back to reality. I squirmed on top of Slade's still-hard dick, attempting to stand. "Stay still," Slade mumbled, gripping my waist as he pushed me back into him. Frowning at him, I whispered, "Someone's coming." "I'm not done yet," Slade grunted, thrusting into me again.

And the sterile silence was not peace, but a prelude. The soft hum intensified slightly, a subtle shift in the air, and then, without a sound, a section of the pristine white wall shimmered and slid inwards, revealing a doorway. No hinges, no visible frame; it simply dissolved, a seamless mechanical marvel. A figure stepped into the room.

Loved. Included. Claimed even if only in their strange way. I reached for the doorknob. Before I could touch it, the door opened. Slade stepped out. Freshly showered. Hair damp. Black button-down hugging his shoulders like it had been tailored by angels with a grudge. I swallowed. Hard. He looked at me. And froze. Just for a second but enough for something unreadable to flicker across his face. Then he cleared his throat. “You’re late.”

I would have this talk with Mother in the morning. I pulled the sliding door open and pushed her out into the cold air. She couldn't say she didn't deserve it. Then I shit the door and locked it. Her gasp was like the seal of approval I needed. I felt better knowing she would spend the night in utter discomfort. My smile was more like a leer as I looked at her through the glass. Then I pulled the curtain closed on her shocked and pained expression, ready to have a good night's rest.

The sequence was: the raised hand, the gap perceived, the stillness, and then the door moving because the hand that had been raised to knock had come to rest against the wood of it and the weight of a hand against a door that has not caught is sufficient, it is more than sufficient, it is the simplest physics, the door moving inward on the weight of a hand that was not pushing. The door opened. The room. I am going to account for what I saw in the order that I saw it because the order is the truth of it — the order is the thing I cannot alter by any subsequent rearrangement, the sequence burned into the part of the mind that does not negotiate with the honest accounting. The lamp.

I saw my whole world crumbling when Genesis slammed the door behind her, but my sincere prayers to the moon goddess were answered because the moment I grabbed the door handle, the door instantly gave way for me. This is quite unusual as the door typically remains locked when you slam it. When the door opened, I did not hesitate and dashed inside to stop her. I saw her moving towards the bedside and ran to her. I grabbed her arm and started pulling her out of the room, but my effort didn't make much difference.

Since Eva was technically the most physically capable of the three, she had the honor of cracking open the door. She stepped up to it and tried to simply slide it open, but it was seriously stuck. Then Eva cracked her knuckles, found some hand-holds, then poured as much energy as she could into moving the thing. And with a great heave, the door moved a few centimeters. It felt like it had been practically glued into place, and slid extremely slowly. She surmised there was probably decades-old gunk all along its magnetic slide. Because it was barely moving, Eva stopped pushing on it and caught her breath a bit.