They say as one door closes another one opens but that’s where the phrase ends. It’s not proceeded by ‘for you’. Maybe it’s a karmic thing. Yeah, let’s go with that.
On this premise I can bask in what may befall the bus driver who was smirking, shutting the doors as I ran alongside to board in the pouring rain.
Door - Kezia stared at the ancient blue door, the sun burning into her eyes. She’d crossed thresholds before, plunged into new worlds, but this one was different. It whispered, pulling her closer, warning her to stay back. It was the feeling you get just before a car crash, that split-second knowing, realisation come too late —and still, you can’t stop yourself.
Mounted atop his company owned hoverboard, Jeff thought to himself while zooming past a row of immaculate houses and manicured lawns. “How many years of door to door sales would he have to endure to rack up enough money so that he could land one such house..?”
He stubbornly asks “Why isn’t there a door here?!” Bang (he slams into a wall). “Why isn’t there a door HERE ?!” (Crash, yet another wall).
“It’s important,” I say, “to ask the right questions. ‘Why’ is never one that brings a satisfying response. Instead, perhaps you could ask ‘Where is the door?’”
Hi, I don't remember if I tagged you when I did the 60 word challenge. It's called "The Cat Lady's House," and you'll find it in "From the Roots of the Tanglewood."
Great story! There doesn't seem to be a Tag there, but you could still add one by editing the Post. You just need to go into the Post and click the three dots on the right, and then update it. Editing like that doesn't resend anything via email, it will just update the published web version... 😎
Half moon on the outhouse door. Sanctuaries designed to be kept open and then closed with the privacy pasted on walls to read Kilroy was here or gawk at a pin-up poster from Playboy the year before faded in time. The door to evacuate in case of emergency. Where are these doors? Filled to capacity and Farmers Almanacs yellow with aged anecdotes.
You debate French or pocket or panel or slider. I don’t have the luxury. For me it’s not just a door. A portal to be sure. Also a magic carpet. A meal ticket. But at root, it’s my boat. You go to Key West to tip back tequila. I go to survive. You are stronger with me than without me.
PROMPT: DOOR
THE CLOSED DOOR
The door was firmly closed, and then the timer started.
We had an hour and a half to solve a bunch of problems before we could leave again and escape this hellhole.
It was going to be taxing, and arduous, and it was going to test our brains to the limit.
But we were ready.
The Maths Exam had begun… 😎
They say as one door closes another one opens but that’s where the phrase ends. It’s not proceeded by ‘for you’. Maybe it’s a karmic thing. Yeah, let’s go with that.
On this premise I can bask in what may befall the bus driver who was smirking, shutting the doors as I ran alongside to board in the pouring rain.
High Street horrors.
Door - Kezia stared at the ancient blue door, the sun burning into her eyes. She’d crossed thresholds before, plunged into new worlds, but this one was different. It whispered, pulling her closer, warning her to stay back. It was the feeling you get just before a car crash, that split-second knowing, realisation come too late —and still, you can’t stop yourself.
Prompt: Door
Mounted atop his company owned hoverboard, Jeff thought to himself while zooming past a row of immaculate houses and manicured lawns. “How many years of door to door sales would he have to endure to rack up enough money so that he could land one such house..?”
One wrong turn, a loud boom later he laid dead.
Shot for trespassing.
When my cell phone buzzed loudly at 4 a.m., it was the police.
A deep, masculine voice, professional yet sympathetic. It seemed that Dad had managed to call 911 but was unable to let in the EMTs who saved him.
"We had to break down the front door," the officer said. "You'll need to get that fixed right away."
In an enormous room, people sit huddled in rows. Guards march up and down, keeping the rows orderly.
Many doors lead in, but only one door in the far wall leads out.
An official points at me. My turn. I hug my family. Guards pull me off, prod me to walk.
It's dark and cold in the doorway. When I –
60 mg Door
He stubbornly asks “Why isn’t there a door here?!” Bang (he slams into a wall). “Why isn’t there a door HERE ?!” (Crash, yet another wall).
“It’s important,” I say, “to ask the right questions. ‘Why’ is never one that brings a satisfying response. Instead, perhaps you could ask ‘Where is the door?’”
He turns and leaves his therapy session.
(True story)
Hi, I don't remember if I tagged you when I did the 60 word challenge. It's called "The Cat Lady's House," and you'll find it in "From the Roots of the Tanglewood."
Great story! There doesn't seem to be a Tag there, but you could still add one by editing the Post. You just need to go into the Post and click the three dots on the right, and then update it. Editing like that doesn't resend anything via email, it will just update the published web version... 😎
Half moon on the outhouse door. Sanctuaries designed to be kept open and then closed with the privacy pasted on walls to read Kilroy was here or gawk at a pin-up poster from Playboy the year before faded in time. The door to evacuate in case of emergency. Where are these doors? Filled to capacity and Farmers Almanacs yellow with aged anecdotes.
Awesome talk !
You debate French or pocket or panel or slider. I don’t have the luxury. For me it’s not just a door. A portal to be sure. Also a magic carpet. A meal ticket. But at root, it’s my boat. You go to Key West to tip back tequila. I go to survive. You are stronger with me than without me.