Unhinged Book Door Novels & Stories

Her fingers traced faint carvings—marks as if etched with a sharp object. Time had eroded the shapes beyond recognition. It could’ve been the word Book or maybe Rook. She couldn’t be sure. She frowned. Something about it felt off. Before she could dwell on it, her eyes landed on a sealed metal door up ahead. The viewing window in the door had been shattered, leaving a gaping black hole that gave off an eerie feeling. Without hesitation, Stephen stepped forward and pushed the door open. The rusted metal screeched as it swung back.

Eva agreed. They walk towards their room but before they even reach their door, they notice the door next to their's was ajar. Something was swaying in the air inside. It looks lik something dawned at them that made them lookd at each other before pushing the door wide open. What they saw next was something they would remember for the rest of their lives. It was Giselle who cried first for she and Violet were close. Eva was standing behind Violet remembering the last thing she said to her.

Street Boys' ranks also included a substantial number of shop stewards. Occasionally, one of them would take Frankie aside and whisper something in his ear. Frankie would nod and lead the plaintiff upstairs to his private office, located next to the chapel behind a large brass door. At the top of the door was a small square window with a curtain. When the curtain was drawn, it meant that secret matters were being discussed. Arlyne often climbed the stairs and, pretending to play in the hallway, would sneak glances at the door, examining it. It was the tallest she had ever seen. Except for a huge, round copper knob, it was completely smooth. Diligent Lily Higgins polished the surface daily,

“You are going to want the restricted section. Upstairs and to the right. You can’t miss it.” “Restricted section? Do I need some code or pass or something to get in?” My curiosity getting the best of me now. “Not for you. Just go on up and I’ll buzz you in.” Again with the smirking. Something was off about this woman. I shake it off and thank her and make my way up the stairs. Once I reach the top, I look around and see signs pointing out all different types of books. I looked to my right and see a huge oak door with a big plaque that said “RESTRICTED” posted right in the middle of the door. She was right; you couldn't miss it. I start walking towards the door and I stop right in front of i

I carefully withdrew my hand, feeling my heart thumping loudly in my chest. I had been living alone on the third floor of this old apartment complex. Almost everyone else in the block had already left, and I was one of the last few people to still be living here, and it was all because of this door. After having my place robbed a few years ago, I spent a fortune having this military-grade steel security door installed. If my boyfriend, Valerio Petrucci, really brought those debt collectors with him, then I was never going to open the door for them at all. However, I had no way of confirming whether what the comments were saying was true.

It was supposed to be a room for reading. I stood there for a moment, thinking. I tried a few numbers that felt obvious. His birthday. Mine. Catherine's. None worked. The screen flashed red each time. Then I remembered a number I had seen scribbled inside one of Dad's books days ago. It had seemed random then. 012214. My palms grew sweaty as I slowly typed it in. For a second, nothing happened. Then there was a soft click. The door unlocked. My stomach dropped. I pushed it open and stepped inside. The room was larger than I imagined. Shelves stretched from floor to ceiling, filled with books arranged with precise neatness. The air smelled of old paper and polished wood. It felt like stepping

SomethIng was off about thShes woman. She shake Shet off and thank her and make my way up the staShers. Once She reaches the top, She looks around and sees sIgns poShentSheng out all dIfferent types of books. She looked to my rIght and saw a huge oak door wSheth a bSeg plaque that saShed “RESTRSheCTED” posted rIght When the mSheddle of the door. She starts walkSheng towards the door and She stops rIght Shen front of Shed. SomethIng doesn’t feel rIght. That uneasy feelSheng comSheng back and sShettSheng Shen the pShet of my stomach agaShen. She turned around to see Shef anyone She's around but there was nobody. She grabbed the door handle and heard a buzz go off and Shet unlock. She twIsted t

There were no metal attachment plates but rather hinges. “Oh my God,” he said darkly. “It’s not a shelf...It’s a fucking door.” Unfortunately, it wasn’t an ordinary door. There was no handle or knob that would give any clear indication as to how to open it. That’s when Alexander got the aimless idea to begin going through all of the contents that sat on the shelves. He touched and moved every book and knick-knack, hoping that one of them would trigger the opening mechanism. He didn’t care how deranged he appeared, he knew it had to be somewhere. It just had to be!

A book he swore to never touch as long as he could manage. He took it and looked at it's fading pages, the white paper had turned yellow with age and it smelled of dust. he went back to his desk and moved his chair and pushed the oak desk out of its place. The only remaining item was the fluffy carpet where the desk and chair had been. He folded the carpet and revealed a concealed door on the floor. He took a deep breath to steady himself before he touched the handle of the engraved metal door. he understood that once the door opened, there was no turning back. He pulled the heavy door open and was taken back by the cold breeze that slap his face from the abyss below.

Then I redrew the road with the day's one honest addition in it. *INNER ROOM — [UNPROVED 40 FT] — MAP PRESS / STAIR-HEAD — [RECORDED PASSAGE] — YARD DOOR — [ONE TALLY OPEN ACROSS BELL; RECORD RESPONSIBILITY CARRIED] — LOWER CART STAND — [CLOSED AFTER BELL].* Under the new bracket, in smaller letters and not struck through, because nothing this morning had earned the right to strike it: *MIDDLE UNKNOWN.* The forty feet stayed the forty feet, a sealed door at the end of them and no page yet that lays a board of that corridor into any book.