The Big Door Prize Novel Novels & Stories

Shape creates door. The next trouble came through the side door, where bad news usually entered. In the false shrines, symbols had weight. It stained sleeves, cracked floors, moved through crowds, and made ordinary people choose sides before they understood the question. The cold incense smoke pressed against every window while wet footsteps marked the next turn of the case. Nothing about the Shrine War felt clean. It felt like another emergency arriving before the last one had been wiped off the stones. Door creates opening. My father's apology had been real.

Silver light poured upward from an endless abyss. At its center... an enormous ancient door slowly rose from beneath the earth. Unlike every door Adrian had seen before... this one had no handle. No lock. No keyhole. Only seven words carved into its surface. THE AUTHOR NEVER LEFT THIS PLACE. The White Book opened by itself. One final sentence appeared. Open this door... and every answer will demand a sacrifice. The ancient door stood motionless. Its surface was carved from a material no one could name. It wasn't stone. It wasn't metal.

The soft giggles of noble ladies filled the air, mingled with the flirtatious compliments of noblemen. Willa glanced around; the players seemed to have dispersed within the crowd. Slowly, she stepped closer. If everything was as she wrote it, then the ballroom should be filled with ghosts and hidden traps. Every door had a challenge, and winning was the only way out. But this was no survival game; she had to die, and in the most tragic way possible. Willa frowned as she mingled with the ghosts, dancing and searching. Doors weren’t chosen at random. Every character had a door that presented their greatest fear, regret, and pain.

The moment Ivan heard my name, surprise, sorrow, and reluctance flashed through his eyes. Then, he slowly released my arm. I guessed he must have heard my name before. The one Don Pushkin had mentioned, the woman about to become his future sister-in-law. While he stood there lost in thought, I quietly pushed open the door and left the record shop. It was one of the properties that had been part of my mother's wedding gift. But I felt no joy from my success.

It was heavy. The cover was a deep, matte navy blue. In the center, embossed in gold foil that caught the afternoon light, was a simple line drawing. A door. With a lion's head knocker. THE BLUE DOOR A Novel By Elion Marrow Cale stared at the cover. His thumb traced the gold foil. "A Novel," Cale read aloud. "Yeah," Elion said, walking over nervously. He stood a safe distance away, as if the book might bite him. "Legal said we had to classify it as fiction. To avoid lawsuits from Lysander. And the government. And... you know, the laws of physics."

I couldn’t be more stunned to see it disappear right into the book with no trace of his blood on it before he puts his hand down. The sound of a door creaking catches my attention, and at the same time, there is Garrett who moves back. I suddenly see the supposed shelf folding together as the creaking sound continues. Eventually, the shelf of books has been put aside to reveal a sort of door which had a polished color. I was amazed by the quality of the door which has a lot of inscriptions on it, making me wonder how much work was put into it to make it work. “There goes the second barrier. I have no idea how to crack the code and that is where you come in,” Garrett catches my attention with

He asked, "Remember this? At Harrowell Library, you were reading by the window. The sun was shining on you, and I thought there wouldn't be anyone in the world as beautiful as you." I snapped the box shut. "The past is the past." "I can't let it go. I just can't," he said, all serious. Rain poured down in Hudson City that night. I figured he would leave, but then security called me way past midnight. "Ms. Douglas, Mr. Carter's still downstairs." I peeked out the window, and there he was—standing in the rain, stubborn as ever. "Let him in." I sighed. He was soaked through when he stood at my door, looking like a total mess.

He informed me. “His wife?” I asked. “Yes.” He replied. “How is she related to me?” I asked in need of clarification. “She’s not.” He answered. “Then?” “His wife is in prison, for theft and burglary.” He told me as I rolled my eyes in frustration. “I’m confused. What’s her name?” I asked him. “Clarissa Comtino. Known as Big Mama there.” He stated. “Big Mama…” “She’s been there for two years now.” He added.

It is beautiful in an old, historical kind of way. We walk up to a steel metal door, with a code on the door to unlock it. Ryan punches in the code and the door clicks. We walk in to find a tall, very large man with grey hair, and casual clothing sitting in front of yet another door. He is reading a book titled, ‘Till We Meet Again.’ I laughed silently to myself at the ridiculous irony of the situation. You really can’t judge a book by it’s cover. “I’m just here to go check your guy’s stock in the bar,” Josh explains to the large man.

" He asked me, I walk inside the mansion, I shook my head, as I moved heading to the door; I knock on the huge door and after five minutes, I heard a voice ask me to come in; I held my bag on both of my hand; I open the door slowly; I meet a man seated at the chair, he is faced with a huge piano. "Good evening sir, I greeted him; I'm looking for Muna?" I said to him; the man is strangely staring at my dress; I felt weird, he later brought out his hand and said; “My daughter is in her bedroom, third door at your right!" The man said; he pointed at the exact door, I saw the door; the red door. While all the doors were red, the only thing that differentiated Muna's door from the others are the