It's Not Me It's My Basement Novels & Stories

Redwood interrupted me. "I don't have a basement! I've been living here for almost a year, and there's no basement in my house!" Mr. Redwood confidently declared, his voice firm with certainty. "I'm sorry you didn't know about this, but you do have a basement," I replied, standing up. I moved his table aside, revealing a section of the floor covered by a seemingly ordinary rug. As I pulled back the rug, another rug was lying underneath it. It became clear that it was actually painted to look like wooden planks, blending seamlessly with the rest of the floor but it was dirty. Underneath was a trapdoor, dirty and old.

"And for your sake, I hope you didn't come with the police or anything that could tick him off." With that, he walked out of the nightclub. I carefully approached the door and when I pushed it open, there were wooden steps descending into the basement. The basement had old looking walls, a strong grey rock that provided the house a firm foundation. The floor was entirely cement and there was a bare bulb light with a pull string. Its small grimy windows had dead flies on the sill with spiders spinning webs in the corners.

But Nate hadn’t exactly let me get a word in edgewise to ask anything at all since we’d gotten in the car. Nate cut off mid-sentence to say, “Yeah, I think so. Sorry,” he added, turning to me. “The basement kind of sucks. But if he’s really gone nuts, we can’t have him upstairs. Kids come in and out, you know?” I did not, in fact, know. “Sure,” I said, and followed them through a large living area and down a hall. Nate opened a door, revealing a narrow set of stairs leading down into the impenetrable dark. Dark, a dead end, I could be trapped. Locked in there.

not alone in my boring house I bit my lip, looking around the basement. The boys were laughing about something Max said, a kid was spinning in a chair dangerously close to the stereo, and I… Well, I was trying to figure out how to text Sophie without it looking like I was hiding. ME: Wow lucky you. I wish I was somewhere else, no kidding I almost typed “I’m in a basement full of boys and weird energy drinks” but thought better of it. Max leaned over and whispered, “You okay?”

"I want to see what Antonio’s lapdog has to say before I send him to hell." **** The Basement The morning air was cold and smelled of salt and wet stone. We walked down the pier and straight into the lower levels of the mansion a bunker of thick timber and concrete. It was where I kept the things the world wasn't supposed to see. The light inside was dim, flickering, and smelled of old oil and fresh blood.

Then all of a sudden, my curiosity about the facility's basement comes to my mind again. I've never been curious about basements before, but now, I don't know what hit me and I just found myself in the elevator going down. The "BASEMENT" button has this mark that says it is for an authorized person only, but now, the button is in red light and indication that the button has just been pressed.

He stated with a shrug. The stairs down to the basement were damp and dingy, without electricity down here it was like stepping back into the Middle Ages, it was cold and actually a little creepy, with the creaks and random echo’s that filtered down from the rest of the house, a perfect place to store a couple of assholes who were well on their way to pissing me off.

Not without me there. ‘Sir, I picked up several breeches. I would say that you had more than one bug in here. And that is in here alone. You have another in the bathroom. So do with that what you like, but I sure as shit wouldn’t shower in there, but I can see that is too late. Our rooms seem to be clear as of now but still I would use the basement area for our meeting.’

I stood at the top of a basement door. It almost resembled the basement door of the new home that I just purchased. I could hear two people arguing at the bottom of the stairs. They were just around the corner from the landing, and I was unable to see the people. Why were two men arguing in my basement? The thought crossed my mind. As I stood at the top of the stairs suddenly, a loud shot rang out. It was so loud it seemed to vibrate the kitchen windows where the basement door was located.

Watching every second. “Good. Keep going.” Another vibration. Another message. This one contained a location. No street name. No coordinates. Just two words: THE BASEMENT. Alessio froze. The basement door sat at the far end of the hallway, half-hidden behind an old shelving unit. The only place in the entire house Noa refused to go. The one room that always felt colder than it should. Not cursed or supernatural, just badly built, badly insulated, forgotten. The kind of room that made your skin crawl for no reason.