Sliding door

swerved off the slippery road, causing Ameena to crash into the fence that bordered the road. Ameena tried to open the door, but to no appeal. Ameena went into shock, in a truck, on the outside of a dark road with no one around. Little did she know, this would be the best part of what was about to happen to her. Ameena “Where am I.” I woke up in a small room, surrounded by iron doors that appeared to be bolted shut. The air smelt stale and had a pungent odor of metal that overcame my nose with

side of the beautiful building, you will see a giant ramp flanked by walls to it’s right and left side, leading to a garage door 35 feet wide. The garage door appears to be made of some type of strong metal, titanium. As you walk down the ramp to the door, you can see a panel on the right wall. As you approach this panel, you will soon realize that it’s the way to open the door to said garage. But you will also realize that the panel requires a face scan of the owner, friends, or family of the house

homeless people around the Boston area. I decided to volunteer in the community service for two main reasons. First, to help others in need. Secondly, I have not been involved in many community service projects through Sebs so I wanted to open new doors. This was my first year in the program and it has definitely has changed my perspective in my life. I made the journey up to the Paulist center by leaving at 6:45. I thought that on a Saturday morning the commotion outside Boston would almost be minimum

“Bye mama, bye papa have fun at the convention, see you at the end of summer!” I watch them settle back in the car then drive away promptly. Hesitantly, I wheel myself closer and closer to the monstrous door of the cavernous threshold. I finally get the courage to knock on the solid maple doors but then they suddenly burst open sending a gush of wind through my stringy hair. “Eliza!” A strange looking woman shrilled. Her joyous tone was so high-pitched a glass could crack. The odd woman eyed me

The basement door creaked open as his dog went down the stairs. Smelling her way through the complete darkness, she made her way to the game room where there were smells of old rotten food coming through the door. Conveniently, the door was left open. She entered the room and began the attack. Ripping open cases and chewing discs like a rubber toy. Destroying anything she could get her hands (or paws for that matter) on. Nick’s phone buzzed with an alert from the security system in his game room

Finally reaching the first stop in my journey, I swing the car into the driveway. The duplex stands before me with lights blazing and lighting up the whole neighborhood. The tense atmosphere of the house threatens to suffocate me the moment I open the door. When I walk through the threshold, a playpen in the middle of the

It was a hot afternoon in the summer of 1896 when the Stranger in Black Denim rode his horse toward the godforsaken town on the backside of the Oklahoma Territory. Stopping on the outskirts of town, he heard the windmill’s broken vane rhythmically click-clacking with each turn in the steady west wind. The dry-scraping sound of its pump echoed the plight of the town: too little rain, not enough water. Many of the storefronts were boarded up, and few people were walking its dusty streets. Surviving

One night when I was a little kid, I had a nightmare where I felt like I was being watched by someone or something. I was laying on the couch in my grandparents' living room. When I woke up, I started to get a weird feeling. Like someone was there, so I slowly sat up. I called out for my grandparents. No one answered so I decided to walk to their bedroom. They were sound asleep. Weird I thought to myself. So I walked back into the living room to check if someone was outside. When I looked out the

I had just gotten back home from my university classes and like always, I gazed at the time on my watch. It was precisely 10:00 pm and in my town, known as the haunting hour. Concerned about the thought, I inserted the keys in the lock of my newly perfected dorm room. I was caught in the moment when a buzzing emanated from my bag. The whole series of events in those few minutes sent a chill up my spine. Someone with a deep and unnerving voice was at the end of the line and announced the dreadful

"Where the fuck are we going, the border's West." The hulking six-foot three, heavily tattooed Latino removed a ham-size first from the steering wheel and glared at the man in the passenger seat. "Just shut up and drive, trust me. I got you out of that fucking hell-hole didn't I?" Although the speaker wasn't as burly, at six feet one with a more athletic frame, Carlos clenched his teeth and nodded in acquiescence. He'd seen what Jimmy was capable of and the warning signals in his piercing green-eyed