Quiet

First Place Winner of "The Door Was Unlocked" prompt contest.

               The door was unlocked.  Turning the handle, Dylan looked over his shoulder at me.  "Quiet," he mouthed.  I nodded vigorously and waited as he slowly opened the door, pushing it open inch by inch.  Footsteps sounded through the staircase behind us, sending the butterflies in my stomach to a frenzy. 

 

              "Hurry, Dylan," I whispered harshly under my breath, nudging his shoulder with my hand.  He glared at me out of anger, but no harsh look could hide the fear that was crystal clear in his big blue eyes.  I heard him suck in a breath before he pushed the door completely open.

 

              "You can't hide from me in my own damn house!"  Dylan grabbed my arm and pulled me into the room just as the man climbing the staircase reached the top.  Our father.  I had opened my mouth to say something when Dylan slapped his hand over my lips.  He was whispering something in my ear, but I couldn't hear him over the sound of my heart beating wildly in my chest. 

 

              Slowly he began to back up, hand still secured tightly over my mouth, my back firm against his chest.  It's only when I had calmed that I heard what he was whispering so softly in my ear.  "It's going to be okay, it's going to be okay," he soothed me with endless reassurances.  But I wasn't so sure. 

 

              This wasn't the first time our father had frightened us to the point of hiding.  Our childhood up to this point was belt-buckles and backhands.  Ten years, thirteen for Dylan, of being treated like the gum stuck to the bottom of his work boots. 

 

              Until now, we had never had a plan.  When our father raised his hand to us, we ran.  We were often split up and found one-on-one where our father would punish us for the mistakes we had made that afternoon. 

 

              Often my father wanted me alone.  To himself.  There in the dark he would remove his trousers, cover my mouth, and make me wish I was never born.  It was in moments like these when I wished so desperately for my mother.  Deep down, beneath the resentment and anger, I am happy she was able to escape the hand of my father; I only wish she would have taken us along with her. 

 

              I could hear his work boots in the hallway, the tread sticking against the hardwood flooring.  I could feel Dylan's heart thumping against my back, his breath on my neck.  "Where are you worthless pieces of-" my father's voice cut out and I heard him begin to chuckle.  "Gotcha."

 

              Squinting my eyes shut, I did what Dylan taught me to do in a situation like this one.  "He's trying to fake you out.  He doesn't really know where you are.  Right now he wants to you be scared.  He wants you to mess up.  To scream," his voice echoed in the back of my head as I began to count.  1, 2, 3, my hands were shaking at my sides.  3, 4, 5, I was unconsciously holding my breath as to not make a sound.  My chest swelled with air, I didn't dare breathe. 

 

              "Picture yourself somewhere far away from here," Dylan's voice soothed me silently.  "Remember when mom took us to the beach?  Think of that day."  My breath began to trickle from my lips, slowly and silently.  I was somewhere else.  The sand was beneath my toes, the balmy air against my skin. 

 

              My father's work boots halted in front of the closet door.  I could feel his hand hovering over the handle.  Dylan's grip over my mouth tightened unconsciously, and he tilted his head just the slightest bit forward.  "I love you."  He breathed it so softly that I wasn't sure if I had imagined it or not. 

 

              A glass bottle hit the floor and shattered, clear liquid seeping into the rotted floorboards and under the closet door where it soaked the tips of my socks.  I immediately recognized the stench, often on my father's breath. 

 

              Dear God, please. Please kill me.

 

              I heard my father's hand settle on the cold metal of the doorknob and I flinched.  To our dismay, the door was unlocked. 

Author's Note

This story was for a contest in which the only rule was that it began with "The door was unlocked..." It did not have to end with the phrase, that it just how I chose to end it. Reviews would be greatly appreciated, and if any flaws or typos are found, please let me know. As soon as I get some constructive feedback, I will enter it into the contest. Thanks!

Reviews

[Rana]

That was quite clever, ending the story with those words. You build the suspense up well, it was enjoyably dramatic. I wish the kids both have a nice plan. Um, now for some suggestions, in 'he glared at me out of anger' the 'out of anger' ain't needed or you could use 'he cast a glare of annoyance at me'. When I first read 'you can't hide in my own damn house' I thought it was Dylan who said it. So if you want you can make it clearer. 'Right now he wants to you be scared' there's a typo there. Overall, the scenes were sketched out well. Quite a nice work.

[Some Kind of Poet]

You have a real talent. You sure do have a way with words and are able to pull the reader into the story that you're writing. This should definitely be submitted into the contest. The dialogue is perfectly written to suit Dylan.
The ending was also perfect for the story. I look forward to reading more of the stories you've written, I hope they're uploaded soon.

[Brinleigh Bailey]

Wow, thank you so much!

[Solitaireman]

I love the tension you are building with this scene. Your characters are very compelling. I want to read more so I can find out what happens. Amazing.

[Brinleigh Bailey]

Thank you so much!

[dan]

Brinleigh, It didn't take me long into the story before I thought, "Well she certainly has a great knowledge of how to write a story." (I often think this because I don't have that knowledge) I hope for you and Dylan's sake that this is fictional. Since I really have nothing but more superlatives to add I hope you don't' mind me pointing out a slight faux pas. About 2/3 of the way down there is a sentence: "My breath slowly began to trickle from my lips, slowly and silently." Now maybe you intended the second 'slowly' to lend further emphasis on the idea, but to me it reads a bit awkward and forced. I'm sure if I read it again it will read more smoothly, I just wanted to point it out in case you didn't mean to do that. Good luck in the contest! take care...dan

[Brinleigh Bailey]

Luckily, this story is fictio, although I do have a brother named Dylan. I did not mean to do that! I'll be sure to fix it, thank you.

[One Lost Anti-Hero]

I'm just going to list mistakes as I see them. First fix you double spacing unless your intending to keep them. Instead of mouthing it maybe he could make the shh with his mouth instead(more of a logical thing rather than a fault.) Try to give some description of their surrounding so the image can be more vivid like at the door scene. (Add sound or tell the reader what the surroundings looks like to give a sense of suspense.) Your description of the characters actions are fine. The sentence "Often my father wanted me alone to himself." Should look like this. Some minor grammar issues, but nothing else really. I loved the dark tone you took, but should describe the father. Make him look threatening like more of a clint eastwood level of terrifying. Wonderful work I hope you do well in the contest. ALso the ending was strange it didn't really match with the door you were trying to implement. Maybe you should work on it a bit.

[Brinleigh Bailey]

I do intend to keep double spacing, I find it is easier to distinguish a new sentence. Mouthing vs. shh? I think that would be more of an opinion, both are logical. Also, I wanted the reader to question what was happening in the beginning and make the door the main focus. Opinion again on your "After my father wanted me alone. To himself." There is nothing grammatically incorrect about it and it adds drama. I will have to go in and add the father's looks in some of the memories, but they never come into contact with him in the present. The closet door being unlocked was just a sort of metaphor. There was no actual lock on the door, it was simply used to foreshadow what happens next. Thank you for your review, and I will add looks, but other than that, I feel like most of the changes you are asking me to make are opinion based. And in that case, everyone has a different writing style. I would appreciate if you could point out the grammar mistakes you speak of, that would be immensely helpful. Again, thank you.

[Jamestown]

Well written and delivered short thriller!
Keep up the great work and b-blessed!

[Brinleigh Bailey]

Thank you so much! And the same to you!

[AaronFreitas]

This is an awesome story... very relatable write. Good work Brinleigh!

[Brinleigh Bailey]

Thank you so much!

[valerie7412]

I liked this story and it may be because the situation seems to be a common problem that people seem to in one way or another degree face, but the ending was confusing though because unless there is a key hole on the inside of the closet they should want the door to be unlocked or they would be stuck inside there forever. Great writing, and easy read. Thanks for the reading request! You're a good writer.

[Brinleigh Bailey]

Haha, others asked the same question. There really isn't a lock on the door, instead it is used as a sort of metaphor. The 'unlocked door' foreshadows what will happen next. Thank you for the helpful review and kind words!

[Pratik Mishra]

Really good work! Surely you must enter it in the contest!

[Brinleigh Bailey]

Thank you! I'm sure I will after minor altercations.

[Perkele.7885]

Lines 5-6 The characters of the story are being introduced to the reader. The story is being related by Dylan's sister. She says, " My father" not our father, does that not seem strange at that point in your story?
Either the Father is psychic when he has been drinking or the children are very predictable in the places that they hide.
The story kept my attention, so it has what stories need, the taste of intangibility.

[Brinleigh Bailey]

I will definitely fix it, most likely just wasn't really thinking about it, thank you. Well they are children of young age so their chosen places to hide are very predictable. Thank you.

[Justin Robben]

Fantastic work. I like the tension it creates and how it thickens with each paragraph.
The assumed unhappy ending is also a nice touch, though Depressing. And that makes it even better. Nice choice. I am always amazed at how such short tales can carry such weight and impact.
Bravo! And best of luck in the contest.

[Brinleigh Bailey]

Thank you! It is often short stories that pack a punch. Again, thank you.