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

She hugged me, gently patting my shoulder. "Come on, let's go to the basement," Zane said politely to my friends as he led us downstairs. He walked so quickly that by the time we reached the basement, he had already unlocked the door and switched on the lights. The basement had four rooms—a store room, a gym, and two lounge areas for guests. I took them inside to get a better look. It was clean and tidy like before. Every room looked untouched; not only had nothing been added, but nothing had been taken either.

I drew in a deep breath and looked between the two of them. "The basement is every female's worst living nightmare."I started out as all the memories came to me all at the same time.

To help her first love, Simon Ahern, win the sprint championship, my girlfriend, Cecelia Holt, deliberately locked me in the basement the night before the competition. She looked at me icily and said grimly, "How many times have you beaten him? So what if I give the championship to him?" Later, she even broke my legs to help him steal the national team selection spot. I desperately asked Cecelia why she treated me like this; I was her boyfriend after all. However, she retorted, "He accompanied me through the three years of depression. I must fulfill this wish for him." However, she had no idea that with my legs gone, I was no different from someone who had lost their life. When I stop

I don't think I could have faced the silent ghosts of my family. Even though I'm taking gear that's mine, it feels like I'm doing something wrong. Like stealing stuff that doesn't belong to me. As much as I try to shake off the unsettling feeling, I can't. Once we make our way to the basement, I move to the furnace room where the storage area is located. Our family has always jokingly referred to this room as a mini hockey store. My sisters dance and cheer, so other than shoes and costumes, they don't have equipment to store.

“Tell me what’s wrong.” “It’s nothing, Adrian. I just… got lost in the hallway.” She hesitated, then added, “And… I found a basement. I didn’t even know this place had one. I mean, I know your… line of work, and most mansions do, but this one felt different. Eerie. I heard weird noises down there… Adrian… is something down there? Are you guys running some trafficking operation or… those dark mafia things no one ever talks about?”

If love was painful then u don’t want to experience it and ever hurt a woman the way my mother was hurt. I left her then because other matters needed my attention. Dante’s voice outside the door told me there was someone in the basement. The basement has its own geometry: narrow corridors that smell of damp concrete and oil, where secrets are dragged out into the light. It is where things that people hide upstairs get solved downstairs.

in Singapore for three weeks, and every night I hear the squelch-squelch-squelch from the basement. I thought it was her yoga ball. Turns out it’s her tit. Tonight, I’m restless. Protein shake’s still sloshing in my gut, veins pumped from deadlifts, cock half-chubbed from the gym bunnies eye-fucking me in the mirror. I’m in nothing but grey sweat shorts, the waistband riding low, the head of my dick already poking out the leg hole like it’s trying to escape. The basement door’s cracked—golden LED light spilling into the hallway.

I change into my gym gear and silently get out of my room. Leah told me that the gym is in the basement and so I head towards the basement. I walk as I look around trying to see anything suspicious. Maybe it's not Leonardo who has the micro chip. The door to the basement is white and is slightly open. Did they just forget to lock it or someone else is here? I hope it's the former.

My stomach churned in disgust. “Does no one actually come down here? I figured a basement in this house would be swanky,” I rambled to take focus off how thoroughly freaked out I was. “Like a speakeasy or something to smuggle alcohol through. If a rat runs over my foot, I swear…”

The house felt colder the further I went, the marble under my feet like ice. When I reached the ground floor, the sound came again. Low. Uneven. A shift. From below. I stopped at the top of the basement stairs. Adrian had forbidden anyone to go down there—ever. He’d said it was under renovation, full of electrical wires and old storage. But we’d lived here long enough for me to know that was a lie. There was nothing down there worth renovating. I pressed my palm against the wooden door. It was cold, colder than it should’ve been.