Tulisan Keren Di Pintu Kamar Novels & Stories

The dimly lit room was occupied by a dusty three-seater sofa, a small kitchen space, and a rusty standing freezer that has lost its white-painted color due to many years of purchase. I proceeded without hesitation as I walked slowly, trying not to make any sounds, towards a tiny hallway leading to the rooms in the apartment. My eyes glanced at the poetic quote on the first on my right-hand side, "My life is mine to take." Jefferson 2020. As I moved further, my eyes scanned another door, with an empty room; written on the wooden door was, "Pancreas cancer is eating me every day" (Wright 2022). All these poetic mus mean something, but what do they connote? ... How is it connected to what my Mo

The others had followed her lead and were all headed to their own doors. “I guess the saying, ‘You can’t judge a book by its cover’ works on doors too,” Beecher teased, poised and ready to open his own door. It was not painted and in fact looked to be made of distressed wood. “If there was any justice you would find a doggie bed inside your door.” Aquina blushed, knowing she had been caught trying to find the fanciest room.

Beside the toilet sat a pile of magazines, but they were old, too old to yield any clue. After leaving the kitchen I walked into the bedroom. The bedroom door, like all the other doors were old and had recently been given a fresh lick of paint. The only difference with this door was that it had a lock and a heavy duty bolt. When this door was closed, the occupants certainly wanted their privacy.

Laughter seeped through cracks in the doors. I smelled bleach and sweat and a lot of weed and sex. We passed a door with a taped-on paper sigil: a slashed circle. “KEEP OUT.” Another door breathed with the sound of someone trying not to cry. We reached the room. Hayden pushed the door open with his shoulder and guided me inside. It was dim, a single lamp in the corner. An unmade bed. A dresser with a cracked mirror. A folded towel on the chair. The air felt recently wiped clean.

I hurriedly hissed and motioned with my hand for them to make haste. “What happened Kalama? Why do we have to hide in here?” The tallest of the three asked me in a whisper. “I saw someone materialize in front of me, and he is coming this way.” I whispered back and I put a finger to my lips, conveying to the women to keep quiet. I stood by the door and kept my ears strained to catch any sound of movement outside the room we were in. The room was small in contrast to the room of torture, and it was clean. It had the same gorgeous wall lamps that looked like raindrops, a small desk with what seemed writing papers, quill and ink in the far corner on the right and a chair, oddly again, no windows

was scrawled on the door, the paint still glistening and running wet like blood. “F-k,” Aislen swallowed hard. It was written on the hallway walls, on the door to the master bedroom. The beautiful armoire doors were open and the toys from within scattered over the floor and bed. “Whore’s Bed” was sprayed on the wall over the bed. “Now that’s just…” She stared at the mess in dismay. “F-king hell. It’s low to f-k with someone’s sex toys.” She continued down to her bedroom and found the contents of her suitcase tossed over the floor, the clothing ripped and torn. “F-k,” she sighed. “Now I have nothing to wear.” The laundry hamper was untouched, so she carried that down the hallway with her towa

It was a stark contrast to the chaos and noise of the city he had left behind. Upon reaching his room, Tyler opened the intricately carved wooden door and stepped inside. The room was a sanctuary, designed with impeccable taste and a touch of luxury. The walls were adorned with handcrafted tapestries depicting scenes from the island's folklore, and a large window overlooked a breathtaking view of the crystal-clear ocean waters.

They were definitely talking about it. My luggage is scattered around the room with some of my boxes stacked up against the wall by my window, oh and I forgot to tell you, I have a window that opens out into the outside world. It's like a back door but it's a window, it also has a window seat. I can see myself sitting there and reading myself to sleep. I read a lot.....or at least I used to. A knock on the door sounds before Tyler pushes his head through the door and the door frame "Hey" he says waiting for me to say

A small round window at the far end showing nothing but dark glass and fog. Cain pointed to the last door on the left. “Room four.” I stopped outside it and shoved the key into the lock. My hand slipped the first time. Then again. Cain said nothing. That made it worse. “Don’t,” I snapped. “I didn’t.” “You were about to.” “No.” I finally got the door open and pushed inside. The room was small but clean. A narrow bed. A wooden chair. A chipped dresser. A lamp with a crooked shade. One window with thin curtains. The air smelled faintly of soap, old wood, and rain.

Ten steps in, he stops and presses another three spots. A panel slides open, revealing a keypad. He types in a 10-digit number, and a final door opens up in front of him, magically appearing in the wall. “What the hell?” I say. “Some people have panic rooms. Me… I have secret rooms.” “Why?” “Take a look.” He gestures, and I walk into one of the strangest rooms I have ever seen in my life. It’s an art gallery, sort of. A dozen or so pictures hang on the white walls of the 30x30 room.