The Door

Tori approached slowly, Neill at her back. The door was open just a crack. She knocked forcefully and called out, “Police.”

All was quiet inside. Tori entered. She heard Neill remove his weapon from its holster. The body was in the kitchen. Blood pooled around it, flies buzzing busily – it had been there a while.

Please use the open space below to share your first 50 words on the topic “the door.”

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Author: Virginia DeBolt

Writer and teacher who writes blogs about web education, writing practice, and pop culture.

5 thoughts on “The Door”

  1. The door closed behind him, and he disappeared from her life. Poof; not a trace of him after that point. That was fifteen years ago. Forgetting had been painstakingly long and she remembered what a friend had told her when she had been at her lowest point: “The process of forgetting starts when your first thought in the morning is not of him.” That had resonated with her until yesterday when she opened her email and saw his name as one of the senders in her Inbox. She had woken up thinking about that today.

  2. Alicia took a photography course at the local college. She was newly divorced adjusting to being single and completely on her own for the first time in forty-two years. The class was just the right size so that each student could have questions answered or extra guidance if needed. The focus was on black and white photos. The first assignment was to take photos outdoors which they would then learn to develop. Afterwards, the teacher would review each student’s work during class. The teacher pointed out that in each of her photos there was a means of entry or exit: the rear door of her home looking out at the garden and the small front gate leading to the front door. She hadn’t realized it at the time. However, it was clear to her that her photos represented the freedom to come and go as she pleased as well as to welcome new people into her life.

  3. Hang Time

    “Will you come in?”
    She hesitated, peering into the dark room behind him.
    “This is where you live?”
    “You could say that.”
    “Let’s sit out instead. It’s a lovely night.” She sat down on a swing on the porch.
    “Are you nervous?”
    “Yes. I am nervous. Actually, I think I’ll go now. Thanks for dinner.”
    She stood and rain to her car, slamming down the locks just as he reached the car.
    “Wait! Why are you going?”
    She gunned the engine, spurting gravel as she backed out and turned down the lane.
    “Close one,” she muttered. “He’s a charmer all right. But that noose hanging inside the door…he sure had me fooled.”
    He stood with his hands on his hips, watching her taillights disappear around a curve.
    “Damn. So close. Next time I’ll be more careful.”
    Whistling, he walked back to the house, went inside and closed the door, giving the noose a gentle tap that sent it swinging.

  4. The door was ajar . That was the first sign , something was amiss.

    She should have bolted then . Or at least , called for help . Instead, she decided to go ahead . Investigate . He knew what she was thinking . She thought , this is my home . No one makes me afraid in my home . In her simple way , she had thought , the intruder , if any , should bolt , not she .

    First thing , she opened the door , and blocked it with a dining chair .She had made a good decision . One that saved her life , actually . She had made plenty of noise . Then she went around looking into the rooms . One by one . No one there .

    She had a habit of looking under the beds too . Crouching on one side of the kids bed , she heard a shuffle , and saw a pair of scuffed shoes . Minutes later , the glint of a rifle tip.

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