It Novel Sewer Scene Novels & Stories

Camile and I shove the objects aside and peer into the opening. It’s dark. Not a light, not a glimpse of the way. And it stinks. Bad. The scene screams a warning to turn back. Camile looks at me. I look back at her. “You sure?” “No,” I admit. And still we go in. I have no idea where we are. It feels like a network of giant sewer tunnels. Camile doesn’t make a sound, she just holds my hand as we move forward. I’m sure she’s too terrified to say how stupid we both are, that we should turn back before it’s too late.

A foul odor filled the air, from the buzzing of flies and the heavy offensive scent that filled the room it was obvious where I was. For a minute I hesitated, I had lived in palaces like this too long to know there is always an outlet, so I took a deep breath and let it out. Not thinking twice about what I was about to do I let myself in— A couple of minutes later I was out. The moonlight lifted my face immediately as I crawled out of the sewage, something in my mind whooshed with a loud grieving noise that I was making a grave mistake but I was quick to shut it all down.

I squeezed my eyes shut and buried my face in Sayler’s hair, trusting Nash to navigate, trusting the bond that tethered us. We hit the bottom with a heavy, bone-jarring splash. Icy water rushed around my ankles, instantly soaking my shoes and the hem of my dress. We were in a sewer tunnel—or rather, an ancient underground river that flowed beneath the estate, carved out of the bedrock centuries ago. Nash shook himself off, sending water spraying in the dark. He waited until I slid off his back, my legs trembling so badly I could barely stand. Sayler clung to my leg, sobbing quietly, the sound echoing off the dripping walls.

It wobbled from side to side making scraping noised on the cement floor. Water dripped somewhere in the distance. A separate light bulb dangled over a sink in the corner. Large gaps in the concrete cemented walls. Ants and beetles crawled into the cracks hiding their glossy bodies. Clive surroundings stunk of old rotten sewer and seaweed. Black polluted water slipped down the drains on the floor as accumulating beetles clogged the holes. Clive discovered someone held him captive in a basement tied to an armchair.

We sprinted for the rear loading dock. We vaulted over the outer fence and dove into the sewer maintenance tunnels, disappearing into the dark heart of the city. We collapsed in a forgotten drainage junction, the sound of Jax’s ragged breathing and Raya’s whimpers filling the hollow space.

“She doesn’t want the headlines. She’s counting on us to surrender. Don’t give her that satisfaction.” The grate appeared before them, cold, wet, defiant. Luca’s boot slammed into it, and the iron shrieked in protest. Locks groaned, bent but stubborn. With one final, explosive heave, the grate shifted, revealing the dark maw of the sewer. The chill of the water hit them instantly, biting at their legs and seeping through their clothes. The dark swallowed them whole.

After a while I’m just on autopilot, walking and leading but not really being there. Until the smell fills my nostrils. It hits me like a punch in the gut. Pungent and strong, covering the air like a blanket. It almost feels solid. Collectively, we all cover our noses. Jossie whimpers as she covers her mouth too. I can hear some people gagging behind me. I raise the lamp above my head, showing the huge gaping entrance of the sewers yawning before me. There’s something strange about the inside of it, though. Something thick and white is catching a bit of the light, like strong woven threads intertwining inside the sewer.

Mine Again The cellar drain stank of mildew and rot, but Livia didn’t care. She dropped through the hole into darkness, scraping her palms raw on the edge, her body hitting damp concrete three feet below. Footsteps pounded above. Dante shouting her name like a prayer and a curse. She didn’t look back. The sewage tunnel was narrower than she’d hoped, but she crawled. Fast. Blind. Her clothes were filthy, her lip split, her body aching from three days of his hands, his breath, his voice whispering that she belonged to him.

Nice to be able to think of someone at home loving you, wanting you to come back. “Ready?” Roger asks, giving me a nudge and pointing down the road to where the first of our men are begin to approach. We meet each other’s eyes, knowing that it’s time. I give a slow, deep nod to my brother, and then he slides the manhole cover to the side so that I can slip in. I drop to the floor of the curving sewer below, all of my senses on high alert for anything odd, anything strange.

All kinds of dirt and smelly water flowed through the floor; walking in this sewer felt like falling into the toilet. A group of more than a dozen men was finding their way in the sewer as they moved forward. There were all kinds of rats roaming around in their surroundings from time to time. It made people’s scalps prickle. “Rodman, this route that you have chosen is the sh*ttiest route ever!” Zeke walked in the forefront as he cursed. He used a handkerchief to cover his mouth and nose. This man was displeased with everything around him.