Echoes of a doorbell that never rang

 

#12 — Echoes of a Doorbell That Never Rang
An Experimental Short Story
by Prof. Dr. Faraz Parvez

“It rang only in my memory, but it changed everything.”

This is not a story you can follow linearly. This is not a tale told through cause and effect. Rather, it unfolds like vapor on glass — present, elusive, abstract. You’re not here to read what happened; you’re here to feel what could have happened — and what didn't.

The Doorbell

There was a doorbell.
It never rang.
But I heard it every night.

It was a soft, antique chime, not a buzz. It echoed like the memory of someone calling your name in a dream you can't remember.

Each time it “rang,” I found myself standing by the door, heart sprinting, palms sweaty, irrational hope swelling. And yet, when I opened it, there was no one. Not a trace. Only the wind. And the question.

Who could it have been?

Fragments of the Unlived

There are moments in life that don’t happen but still leave fingerprints on your soul.
This was one of them.

Sometimes, I imagined it was her.
The one who vanished without a goodbye.
Not dead. Not lost. Just... evaporated. Like memory foam recovering its shape too soon.

Other nights, it was a child. Mine? I never had one. But the small footsteps in the hall whispered otherwise.

And once — I’m almost sure of it — it was me.

The House Reacts

The house grew stranger.
Windows reflected scenes from nowhere.
Chairs rearranged themselves in ways that matched memories I never made.
Books opened to pages I hadn’t marked — but which knew exactly what I needed to read.

“The real isn’t always what’s real. Sometimes it’s the ache of what never was that stays the longest.”

A Visitor

One night, the doorbell actually rang.

I froze.
Something about the real chime was unbearable.

I didn’t open it.
I couldn’t.

What if all my imagined guests stood there together?
What if reality was crueler than fantasy?
What if... the moment passed, and it was gone forever?

It did.

I waited till dawn.
When I finally opened the door, only silence greeted me.

But on the mat was a note. Handwritten.

“You were home. But not ready. I’ll try again in another life.”

Reflections

This story never needed a beginning, middle, or end. It only needed a pulse — a flicker of truth you could feel in the shadowy corners of your own unconfirmed memories.

Was there ever a doorbell in your life that didn’t ring?
A moment that never came — but you still replay it, wondering?

That is where this story lives.

About the Series

You're reading the 12th entry in our bold literary experiment: “60 Experimental Short Stories” — an ambitious journey through narrative innovation, genre-bending tales, and untamed imagination.

These aren't just stories — they’re literary challenges. To the reader. To the writer. To the boundaries of the form itself.

We invite you to explore, reread, and reimagine what short fiction can be.

Follow the series exclusively on farazparvez1.blogspot.com
Expect ebooks, print editions, and possibly a revolution in storytelling.


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