The Prison Door Novels & Stories

One side of the cell was taken up mostly by the thick and hefty door, with its worn-out appearance and the marks of all the people who had been imprisoned inside, adorned with iron bars that stretched across the very small entrance. The only light came from a small, barred window high above. The iron bars that held the little light coming in were coated in rust and corroded over time, which was periodically penetrating by the flickering light from the hallway, creating unsettling patterns on the floor. It was a formidable obstacle, a doorway that simultaneously offered hope for release and the threat of long-term imprisonment.

And on this door was a stencilled black eagle clutching a wreath-enclosed Swastika. Frobisher and his henchmen shoved past Miller and Elmo in their haste to get to the door. Frobisher placed his palm against the metal, his grin broad; a crocodile smiling at something that has fallen, struggling and helpless, into its watery domain. ‘Opening this door will release the past,’ he said. ‘It will make things right’ And with that he pushed down the handle, dragging open the door that screamed on its hinges as though in protest of the travesty about to be imposed upon the world.

Inclining a metal designed as a thick old book, a hidden door opened which made the General's smile widen. Walking inside it, the General is softly humming - it's as if that he was happy with the current situation. Marching downstairs, the pathway became quite dark and the officer's humming echoed inside the place. Not long before, he reached his destination. The room was filled with prison cells. Two of them are occupied. One was a man, wearing crumpled business attire, while on the other cell was a woman, tied in her feet using metal chains. "My, my, look at these little creatures, how are you doing?" The General asked both of them while lightly hitting the metal bars with his metal baton.

Rows and rows of cages lined up on each floor, yet we kept going down and down and down until a heavy wrought iron gate appeared in our path. The man at the extreme front turned around. “Two of you stay here. The rest, come with me.” A few turns and clicks echoed, and then with a loud squeal, the door was pulled open. Taking a closer look, I noticed that only its handle was wooden. The entire door was coated with silver. What could they possibly need a place like this for? Slamming the door shut as we entered, he stopped again. “Another two should stay back. The last person should come along with me and the prisoner.”

And just like that, the doors slammed shut. And my prison sentence began

Silver: I heard the voices of so many people at once, even though they were trying to whisper. I knew some other people had walked in through the door, but I couldn't see them, so I couldn't deduce their number or whose side they were on. "They might not check here. They know this is a prison and they have no us for prisoners, at least not yet," I heard one say. "Shut the door!" the woman with a child cried out. "You'll make them find us!"

The towering gates of the maximum-security prison loomed ahead, a foreboding sight that signaled the beginning of his incarcerated life. Upon arrival, the air crackled with authority as officers meticulously followed protocols to admit Ejay into the highly secure institution. Each step within the facility was shadowed by vigilant guards, their watchful eyes a constant reminder of the severity of his confinement. As he passed through multiple checkpoints, heavy doors sealed behind him, locking away any remnants of freedom he once possessed. Ejay was ushered into a cell within the confines of the maximum-security prison, the iron bars a stark testament to the formidable nature of his lifelong

But not be her mate. So at least I didn’t have that on my hands as well. “He is in the furthest cell. The one they keep for the most threatening of prisoners.” He explained and pointed the thing out. A thick steel door sat between me and my mate. Although there was no pungent smell coming from behind it, the smell of blood hung thickly in the air. With only a small slit in the door, the volume of blood must have been- I didn’t let my mind wander further. Instead, I rushed for the door and lightly tapped it.

She found some scrubs in a storage cupboard but there wasn't anything else of use, so she changed out of the bloodied dress before rushing to open the door. However, the door wouldn't budge, making Thalia curse, frustration building within her like an unbearable ache. "Come on!" She hissed, trying to pull it open with her strength but getting nowhere. How did the doors not just open in this place? Thalia had never seen anyone use a key and yet the doors only opened for certain people or for certain reasons. The door to her prison never once budged when she tried the door and yet Ms Thorton, the doctor and Dante had walked in and out as if it was nothing more than a bedroom door. So how were