The Third Door Novels & Stories

I could not just pick quickly. I went in front of each door and tried listening to what's behind it. I can hear some strange noises on every door, noises that I never heard before. But there's one door I could feel is safe. I just feel it, and there's no explanation why. "Which one?" She asked, crossing her arms while waiting for me to decide. Is this really the fastest way? I asked myself. "Third door." I told her then pointed my finger at it. "Then try going inside." She looked at the door without emotion.

Elle I find room three easily. The door stands before me, large and proud. The number three, engraved on a worn gold plate, shows a faint chip at its edge, but it’s been polished enough that most wouldn’t notice. I did though. Since I arrived at the door, I'd done nothing but stare at it as I tried to summon up the courage to press the card Roxy gave me against the reader. So far I've done a terrible job. Just think of the money, Elle.

A half-collapsed iron fence slumped at the edge, propped up by a rock. A place that, in any movie, would host a murder, a chase, a drug exchange. Maybe all three. “This?” The driver frowned. “No people. No lights.” I stared at the building, then checked my phone. One new message blinked. [Good.] [Use the side door. The main door has been locked since 2012.] [Take the metal stairs to the third floor.] [We’re waiting.] I lifted my head. The main entrance stood chained shut. But on the right side, near a cluster of rusted barrels, a small metal door sat cracked open.

It disappeared and the gates open. “She, does he means Ana or the girl in black?” Van thought. Van and Cara are the first to enter the gates. Kirsten and the rest hesitated, yet no one wants to be left out here with the metal face so they follow with their eyes closed. Van and the rest then emerge into a vast chamber or a void perhaps for there is no floors, walls or ceilings here. There are only doors here, lots and lots of doors floating around like hooded ghosts. Van approaches the nearest one. The door must be more than eight feet tall for it towers above Van’s head. Carved around the decorated knocker is an inscription:

"Y-Yeah... why?" "Maybe there are clues in the notes. Is it still with you?" "I threw it away," she said, then switched the T.V. channel. She doesn't like late night shows anymore. More dramas and nonsense shows. "Oh," her friend said regretfully. "Keep the notes next time. You know... maybe one of these days he might introduce himself in a note." "His name is Third. That's always on the note, eh." "So, do you know anyone who has the same name?"

Vivian came to see him many times, but every time, Winston turned her away. He threw everything of Vivian's out of the house. Then he took out everything related to me from the utility room and rearranged it bit by bit as we did three years ago. I thought Winston was crazy as he mumbled while arranging it: "Aryanna, I can feel it, you're by my side. "You're home, right? Look, the house is still the same as it was three years ago." But things didn't lie. Winston had long ago thrown away most of my things.

That’s all it takes. “It’s… down that hall. Third door,” one whispers, nodding toward the far end. “Thank you.” I step past, feeling the soft scrape of broom bristles resume behind me. People here either fear Nyra, respect her—or both. Either way, it works in my favor. The hallway stretches ahead, empty. My footsteps click against polished wood, each echo bouncing off walls that seem to press in. I stop in front of the third door. Thick wood. Soundproofed.

Miles asked scrunching his brows. They were so engrossed in the walking, they didn’t even realize there were three doors there. “It will not hurt to try them all,” Kale said looking at them pathetically. There was no pain in checking the three doors for which was the right one. Right? Angela saw something unusual at the back of the scroll. It was writing. “There is something written at the back of the scroll,” Angela said as Justin turned the scroll to the back. “Also if you pick the wrong door you are going to another floor.” Why does she have to speak in riddles? Angela asked rhetorically. What did that even mean?

5:42. Close enough. I climbed the stairs, heart in my throat, and found the third door on the left. No label. Just a heavy black door with a discreet keypad. Grayson had given me the code: 0600. I punched it in. The lock clicked. The Room of Ecstasy. I stepped inside and the door sealed behind me with a soft, final sound.

Unlike the lively first floor where some people are either eating or talking amongst each other, the second floor was tranquil and quiet, providing a way for the clients to have a peaceful sleep. ‘Third door on the right.” I reminded myself as I walked towards the said door. All the other doors were either adjacently open or totally closed, but without that tag saying that someone is in there. The only door with that tag was the third door on the right--- Marcus’ door. Stopping right in front of it, I was faced with a problem: how would I knock? Both my hands were already occupied by the pot and the pot cannot be put down anywhere at all. It would also be rude