doorbell sound - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
The doorbell rings again. It is tinny and grating. It demands that I leave my dinner and go to the door. It cares not a bit that in doing so I let out the heat I've been building for an hour. I glance over at my fire, no longer a timid nascent flame, but roaring as it eats at the logs I poached from the forest in the dead of night. Then it rings non-stop. Someone wants my attention pretty bad. If the complex isn't burning down I should be heading out to the balcony and down the fire escape about now, but damn, my dinner, it's chicken and dumplings. Then whoever it is puts their thumb on the button without releasing it at all and in my fury I just lollop to the door and fling it wide ready to shout. But I see no-one until I look down. It's little Lucy, the only person in this whole place I give a crap about. She screams and grabs hold of my legs so I pull her into the porch and slam the door. She's shook up real bad.
A doorbell used to sound cheerful to me, an announcement of a friend or unexpected visitor. Now it is no more than a gunshot is to a war veteran. I had never intended to go to sleep that night, I always stayed up until Steve dragged himself in half drunk and giddy with the after glow of excitement, sometimes with a girl, sometimes not. I would pretend to be finishing important work and head on upstairs, my eyelashes as good as lead weights. Not that night though, that night I had drifted off on the couch to some soft jazz under my eider-down quilt. The buoyant ding-dong brought me crashing back to consciousness as good as a slap. The clock showed four in the morning, so I called out for Steve, he must be home by now. The only answer was the ding-dong and then I noticed a flicker of blue light through the blinds. Police. Police and no Steve. Something died in me that night. My future was gone, all my comfort in the past. My son, my love, gone in the ring of an artificial bell.
The doorbell was shrill and it jangled my nerves each time a new guest arrived.
The doorbell had a strangled sound, as though it's battery was somewhat drained.
The doorbell snapped me out of my stupor, I jumped like the button was hardwired to my brain and strode off to the door.
He must have gotten the doorbell at some kind of joke shop. Every time someone pressed it it shrieked "GO AWAY WE DON'T WANT ANY."
Even the doorbell had a weariness to it, as if it had rung one time too many. It started in an understated way and disappeared as soon as the finger was lifted.
The doorbell must have a new battery. The sound is harsher than the morning alarm wake-ups in a head-ache inducing kind of way.