Wound Up At Your Door Novels & Stories

I walked to the door to take out the trash and saw something strange. There was a note. A small paper, folded, stuck to my door. I picked it up and opened it. Just three words. “We’re coming.” That was it. No name. No signature. Nothing else. I stared at the paper for a long time. My fingers became cold. My hands shook again. “We’re coming,” I read out loud. “Who’s coming? And why are they coming? What have I done to them to make them come?”

After blowing him one in return, I turn and run upstairs to grab my robe and just relax until he gets back. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I’m just coming down the stairs when the doorbell rings. Looking through the peephole, I don’t see anyone, so I figure it’s the mail delivery guy with a package. They tend to do that when it’s something that doesn’t need a signature. I go to open the door and suddenly I’m getting thrown back as the door bursts open.

Something about him isn't sitting right at all. Mom isn't home. She'll be back on Monday evening. I think I need to tell her as soon as she gets back. My phone started ringing. I grabbed it in fear to see it was just Willow. "Hey," I spoke. *Hi. We are right in front of your bedroom door. We've been knocking for a while now," I looked at my door. Did I zoom out again? I sighed and got on my feet. I walked towards the door. I opened the door for them to come in. They entered with a smile.

It wasn't like we had neighbors that will come knocking on our door for a cup of sugar. Winston rose gently and stealthy, his entire body on alert and ready to spring into action. I stood up with him, following behind him as he inched towards the door. As his hands closed around the door handle and pulled the door open, all my body turned to ice at the very familiar faces that had shown up at our doorstep.

We chat a bit about silly topics for a couple of minutes then I leave for my house. At the doorstep, I see a note that sends a chill down my spine. " RUN AWAY OR DIE!!!! " 💀💀💀💀💀💀

Someone hammered at the front door, making it shake. “Let the games begin Wicked.” I gripped at her arms, my eyes searching her face. As whoever was on the other side of the door smashed their fist against it again. “Wicked, answer the damn door. There’s been an accident.”

I answered after the second ring. " It's either you come over here or I just walk straight into your room and I don't care whatever it is you're doing." " Uh?" " I'm at your door as we speak," Wait what? At my door? My mouth flew open like someone who was s screaming yet no sound was coming out from my mouth. I glanced at the door and notice the door handle was already twisting. He got to be kidding me. " You really think I'm joking Scarlett?" " What! No, no, no, just hold on,"

Get down on my knees, ask my wife for forgiveness, and come home so we can start over. The Knock at the door: I heard the doorbell ring first, and then a booming knock came on the door. "Alright, alright!" Who in the world could that be at 3 am? Could it be my wife? I quickly grabbed my robe so I could answer the door. "Who is it?" "Is this the Hightower residence?" Before opening the door, I replied, "Yes, I'm Mr. Hightower. I said, looking at the video camera by the door and seeing two police officers."

“My eyes are up here mister! Plus, how do I miss someone who I don’t even know his name?” I fired at him. “Are you mad at me?” He dared to ask, I glared at him but before I could answer, my doorbell rang for a second time. Must be the pizza guy. Maybe I should get my pizza and send the Greek god out so that I can have my movie night in peace. I wordlessly walked towards my door, ready to get my pizza. When I opened my door, I felt light-headed when I saw who it was that was at my door.

And to top it off, the fan in my room now made a wheezing sound like it was slowly dying of heartbreak. My phone buzzed. ~Remember you have till Friday. No excuses.~ I threw the bread back into the plastic bag and groaned into my hands. I wasn’t dramatic by nature, but this? This felt like a good time for a breakdown montage with sad music and rain. Instead, I got a knock at the door. I jumped. Paused. Another knock. Landlord? Loan collector? I opened it a crack—just enough to peek. “Oh thank God, you’re home!”