The Locked Door Novels & Stories

“Haven be careful in here. I will come here tomorrow to talk about the case. Also, for the love of God, do not let them in your house again!” “I won’t,” she said as he disappeared as quickly as he arrived. She walked to the door and locked it. She went to the back of the house as well and made sure that the door was locked as well. The other things could wait. She went into the main room and hit the lights in the front of the house to turn them on. The lights in the back were off. No one from the street could see to that part of the house, but she had an idea that there were people around the house. She went to each window and made sure they were all shut and locked. Though she never opened

They were so confident that the universe would bend to their will as the stock market always had. But the Door was not a machine you could force. It had a will. It had a memory. It was an ancient, intelligent phenomenon that had waited a hundred years for the King and his General. It had accepted the raw Uwezo and the emotional Hekima it required to bridge the dimensions. It had no need for parasites. It had no tolerance for the small-minded men who built cages of glass and steel to hide from the rain. Just as the first man’s fingertips—a billionaire with manicured nails and a frantic scream on his lips—brushed the violet surface, the Door blinked.

Adam's and Carmen exchanged a vindictive look, the former took out a room card and swiped it at the door of room 402. It beeped. The electronic door lock was opened but they could not open the door. Someone had locked it from inside. Hmm? Mrs. Adam's was confused by it and looked at the number of the door again. It was the right room and she had even arranged a huge scene inside. According to her plans, the door should not have been locked. Immediately after she swiped the room card, the door should have opened and everyone would see the drama unfolding within. She even ordered the people involved that they were not allowed to lock the door from the inside.

I don’t want him to be mad because of me. I quickly followed him towards the door and then tried to open the door. The door was locked from inside. I just didn’t understand why the hell would some adult lock the door like he was just emerging out of the puberty. “Mr. Damelo! Please, open the door. We need to talk. How can you just lock the door like some adolescence?” I said but there was no response to it. I knocked the door one more time but there was still no response. The only sound that I heard was the thud sound which I was unknown of.

Otherwise, he wouldn’t have reacted like that. The study had a very thick door that was highly sound-proof. Anyone who pressed their ear against the door wouldn’t be able to hear a thing. She simply wouldn’t do anything as useless as that, so she remained in her spot and quietly stared at the door, entranced. That door had a fingerprint/password lock. At the moment, to her knowledge, the only people who could come and go as they wished were Edward and Wade, and they both unlocked it with their fingerprints. She had secretly tried a few passwords when no one was around, and they were all wrong.

The sound is sharp, metallic, wrong. Her shoulders stiffen. “What the hell…?” she mutters and pulls the handle again, both hands this time. Nothing. The door doesn’t budge. I take a step forward. “Sera?” She turns slowly, eyes wide, that same terrified, hollow look from earlier returning in a violent rush. “It’s locked,” she breathes. “Adrian… the door is locked.” I move to her side and try it myself. She’s right. Someone locked it. From the outside.

I pressed my body tight with the help of the chairs against the door, Then the door shook. I watched the door handle, pressed hard on its hinges, and it made a creaking sound. Like a thief forcing his way into the house. My blood turned cold, I held the helm of the skirt tight. Every fibre clung to my hand. " It's locked, no one is here, Don.” The voice squeezed through the narrow opening of the door. “Are you sure?” the voice of their leader echoed. “I am, boss,” he replied, pressing the doorknob harder.

He put his shoulder to the door and started banging into it. The door shook on its hinges but held. It was a rather high-quality oak door. “Damn that child!” Mr. Masterson took out his phone. “This is Masterson. I need a locksmith or a very beefy thug right now in the Killeen room. RIGHT NOW.” I huddled myself back in the corner with the pillow protecting my modesty as a handful of men quickly came in. One knelt with what I could only assume was a lockpick set and began working on the door.

They were firmly fixed on her. "The door lock is engaged on the inside, don't bother trying to open that door until it's released," he said.

The door was locked. A frown creased her forehead. **Locked? Why would their door be locked? They don’t have anything worth protecting, and they’ve never locked it before.** She jiggled the handle again, this time with more force, but it didn’t give way. Frustration bubbled up inside her, mixing with the growing sense of unease. Isabella was about to try again when the sound of footsteps made her pause. She quickly stepped back from the door, smoothing her expression into one of practiced calmness. A pair of guards appeared at the far end of the hallway, making their way toward her.