Lily gazed at the door in front of her. Unlike the bulletproof barriers that accompanied the sprawling rows of houses behind her, this particular door was made out of oak. A small, gray doorbell layed into the surrounding brick. It was a curious and amusing relic, Lily mused, her hand lightly caressing the worn surface.
Obviously, from context (because doorbells are on outside walls and not inside), we get that Lily is standing outside of the door to her house. What is not at all clear to me is why she would be standing outside her door gazing at it. Maybe that will be explained later, but for now I’m thinking that Lily is either leaving the house for the last time and getting a memory of it imprinted, or she’s somewhat simple. Who stands outside their door gazing at it?
I’m intrigued by what kinds of “bulletproof barriers … accompany” sprawling rows of houses. (And “sprawling” and “rows” are kind of oxymoronic. “Sprawling” indicates a disorderly arrangement, but “rows” are as tidy as can be.) But back to those “bulletproof barriers accompanying” those houses. Do you understand much about construction, weaponry and home security? No one would be likely to invest in “bulletproof” doors when walls are pretty easy to shoot through with any reasonably high-powered rifle. Because bulletproof doors are expensive, and bulletproof walls and windows would make the places unaffordable to most of the people who would still have to live there. (Bulletproof doors make more sense for buildings that are not detached frame houses, but something like concrete and brick apartment buildings, where one or two main entry doors might justify that expense, because the building itself is pretty secure – and the building contains many tenants to defray the cost.)
But even aside from that … are we talking about “bulletproof doors” at all? “Bulletproof barriers … accompanying” these houses is just such a strange way to say “bulletproof doors on houses”. Don’t aim for strange language and turns of phrase when you’re attempting to describe a strange scene. Use words and phrasing that are understandable in themselves so that your easily understood words and sentences can convey the strangeness that you mean to impart.
Better, in fact, to describe the doors on other houses as “heavy, flat metal doors with no adornment or seams to give purchase to crowbars, and no obvious weak points to be breached by generalized rifle fire”. Maybe not in so many words. “Show, don’t tell.”
The incomplete sentence describing the doorbell has been discussed. (You meant to say “laid”, but the sentence would still be incomplete.) Check how doorbells are attached to brick houses. In residential construction, the brick is not usually chiseled out to recess a place for the bell – too expensive. Usually the bell press is simply attached on top of the brick.
It’s not entirely clear which relic Lily is caressing, the doorbell or the door. Probably the door, I suppose, as it is a demonstrable “relic” if it’s not up to neighborhood security standards. Working doorbells – unless you have also improved upon this technology in your narrative – have not yet achieved “relic” status, whereas the door obviously has. (And we don’t actually know that this doorbell works, so it very well could be a relic, and hence that uncertainty. It’s likely that there isn’t a lot of foot traffic visiting in a neighborhood where folks have bulletproof doors, so even a working doorbell could be a relic.)
So I’m left wondering why in hell Lily is standing outside her door gazing at it and caressing it and thinking what a relic it is, in such a clearly unsafe neighborhood. Is she brain damaged, or does she have a death wish?
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