The Prison Door Novels & Stories

Down to the belly of Silver Haven — where the real secrets rotted. The prison. No guards. There never were unless someone was being tortured. No one escaped these halls. Well… except me. I walked slowly, brushing the old cell doors as I passed. My fingers found the latches, one by one. Click. Click. Rust stained my gloves, years of corrosion peeling off in flakes as I opened each door. I didn’t look inside. Didn’t speak to the ones still inside those cells. Most of them weren’t people anymore. Not really. Just twitching shells breathing stale air.

written at it's back and a short black shorts or trousers. They engage in different activities like singing, playing basketball, chess game, discussions and other talents, a closed door with the tag "Hard Labour" is at the edge of the inner prison gate, a vibrant lady pulled the door with force, the people inside were washing clothes, dirty dishes, breaking hard bricks, pushing trucks of chain and many stressful labour, the lady wave her hand around her nose as the place stinks badly. "Prisoner 0519, you've a visitor." she announces loudly and immediately Noah rushes out of the crowd looking unkempt, his beard look haggard with his busy hair, he scratched his body frequently as he approach t

Sweat dripped from my damp hair and my bones trembled as I limped toward the door. This room was different from the one I had woken up in after I collapsed in the garden. Here was nothing short of a prison cell. The entire place was an eyesore and the door was made of iron. I could imagine how much it’d hurt knocking on it, but it didn’t stop me. “Hello? Is anyone there?” I slammed my knuckles against the door so loudly it rippled in the room. Of course, my fingers immediately felt sore and broken but I simply regarded it as a sacrifice I must go through if I wanted my freedom, and continued knocking.

At the mouth of the corridor was a metal door, solid and tough and practically impossible to break down - by prisoners (which was why it was built) but for Tyronimics who seemed to be able to wreck anything. One by one, Cwena being the first, they dashed through the door and into the corridor. More hideous howls as Tyronimics were catching up on them filled the charged atmosphere. Cwena got in first and stayed behind the metal door, ready to slam it shut once they were all in.

Imani The thought of visiting a prison with Judge Jackson rattled me. I could see him locking me up in a cell and throwing away a key. I couldn’t go to prison. I lived 18 years in prison and refuse to go back. I ran to the door and attempted to open it, but couldn’t. I hadn’t noticed when we entered the cabin that there was not only a combination lock, but a keypad that appeared to require five numbers in order to unlock the door from the inside.

The walls seemed to be closing in on her and the main source of all her problems stood there leaning at the iron clad door that sealed her fate with that dirty smirk on his face. “What the fuck did you just do!” she screamed at him heading towards the door with a determined stride. He moved out of the way watching her struggle for the door, hitting the prison door with all her might. She had to get out of her, the sirens were getting louder. Through the little Judas window, she could see the security guards out of the prison cell room struggling to break through the doors and the faint sounds of the intercom announcing a security breach. “Lockdown initiated. A

After stumping down several flights of stairs, we came to a stop outside a nondescript door on a lower level. Fumbling the keys before managing to find the one that fit, Regina finally pushed the heavy door inward. It was then I realized the door was actually a thick metal, only covered with a thin veneer of wood to make it look like all the others from the outside. This room was every inch a prison, despite its elegant appointments. I had no time to consider the decor, however. The staggering stench of sex, blood, and bile nearly toppled me, my stomach threatening to expel what little I’d eaten at breakfast. By sheer force of will, I stifled a gag.

The whole building vibrated with an electric lock system. Not a place meant for torture. Just containment. Efficient, cold, and quiet. Māori typed a code into the keypad, and the first door clunked open with a mechanical sigh. The air inside was cold. And sterile. The hallway stretched through the pathway, doors on either side - thick glass with silver-lined edges. Silver cuffs hung from anchor points in most cells. It was a modern cage for supernatural monsters and I loved it. I stepped inside. My shoes echoing in the prison hall.

Or is this a trap set by Clara to harm Aliyah? "I'll investigate this," I told Clark. After that, Clark returned to work, and I went straight to jail. There was not a single soldier guarding the prison door. I frowned. Since when did the correctional officer so loosely? Going closer, I saw that the prison's main door was open, and there was a lot of noise coming from inside. I rushed in. The first cells were empty, the sound of chaos coming from the last cell. "Catch her back. Useless people… Ahhh," Clara's voice.

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.