Romans & histoires The Peephole

I hesitated for a moment, wondering if I should open the door and investigate further. But something about the silence outside my door made me feel uneasy. I decided to check the peephole instead, to see if I could catch a glimpse of whoever was lurking outside my door. I carefully looked through the peephole, but to my surprise, there was no one there. The hallway was empty, and I couldn't see anyone lurking in the shadows. I felt a wave of confusion wash over me. Had I just imagined the whole thing? Or had someone been outside my door, only to disappear before I could see them?

She peered around, making sure that nobody was following her, before entering the hut, without bothering to knock or anything. Liam's curiosity was piqued, and he crept around the perimeter of the hut, looking for a discreet way to peep inside. As Liam maneuvered around the hut, he noticed that there were no windows. However, there was a small gap under the door that seemed just big enough for him to peek through. Liam dropped to his knees and carefully crawled towards the door, trying not to make any noise. As he reached the door's edge, he put his eye up to the gap and peered inside the hut.

The motherfucking zombie apocalypse better be here for all the racket going on at my doorstep. Glancing through the peepholeI saw that it was Isabelle. Oh shit!

“ Audrey mentioned that there are many people at the door. I'll have a look” The door had a peephole, and the small stool hadn't been moved aside just yet. Audrey must have left it there when she looked through the peephole to check on the situation outside just now. Chloe moved the lid away to peek into the peephole. nevertheless, she was utterly startled the moment she took a closer look. “Oh, my!” Chloe stumbled backward a couple of steps, and she almost slipped and fell. Fortunately, Kelvin was quick on his feet and he managed to steady her, and it caught me by surprise”.

“Ledger has a birthmark on his left butt cheek. It’s small but it’s there. I know because… well, I’ve seen it. The guy in the video doesn’t have one.” Dorothy blinked once. “You’re sure?” “Positive,” Cassie said. “Also… we made out by the door, but we moved to the far side of the bed after that. The side that’s hidden from the hallway. We didn’t want anyone watching us from the peephole.” “I’ve always wondered why you guys didn’t just use a video doorbell.” Dorothy didn’t hesitate. “Because it can be hacked. This…” she gestured to the peephole, “...is harder to tamper with. It’s old-school, but more secure.”

We both look at each other in confusion then I walk to the door only to see through peephole, our worst fear. Richard Anderson.

She crossed the room and looked through the peephole and felt every ounce of breath leave her lungs at once. It was Damian……

I was a ghost walking through his walls. After a few dozen paces, I heard it. The heavy, distinct sound of a door opening echoed through the structural framework of the house. Damian had just entered his bedroom. I picked up my pace, moving like a shadow until I reached the dead end of the passage—the terminus that looked directly into his private sanctuary. I leaned forward, my breath hitching in my throat as I pressed my eye to the tiny, circular peephole built into the wall. The view was crystal clear.

Curious, I move to inspect the newly looking door a couple cobwebs here and there along with a handle to help keep it close just like the other one my eyes moving to what one would call a makeshift peep hole or a speakeasy panel. Holding my breath I ever so slowly move to approach the door, the sound of voices reaching my ears as my breath hitches, my curiosity always getting the better of me, I try to fight temptation. Unable to resist, I carefully move to lift the flap, careful not to let my flashlight show. Leaning forward, I move to peek with my right eye, hoping to get a better look around the room.

It goes about its business, vanishing into a crevice in worm-infested floorboards while Mitch, panting, stares at the doors. She creeps to the nearest, biting down against revulsion as ancient carpet sucks at her soles. Laughter rebounds once more down the passage and she freezes, but the noise is no closer than it was. Slowly, carefully, she slides the peephole. Well-greased, it opens with barely a sound, but nonetheless, faces swing her way at the slight scrape of metal. Young faces. Female faces. Some pretty. Some not so much so. But all frame eyes wide with terror.