Its Not Me Its My Basement Novels & Stories

I'll let them prove it themselves. Turning and walking over to the furthest shelving unit, I move a bottle of bleach over and press the spot where the corner of the shelf meets the wall, and the wall swings open slowly. Soft lighting lines the steps downward, and I lead the others to the bottom. There are two floors to the basement. This one is just an ordinary basement, in case we're ever invaded by the Feds. I may have a few in my pockets, but not the whole department.

I get to the third house and make my way inside to search the house itself to see if anyone has been around here, but I do not find a thing. Now the basement, to say I am not scared shitless, would be a blatant lie; I know I can handle myself; I don't know what he is prepared to do, though. I truly believe his intention will be to completely eliminate me. Monsters don't get reinvented with a conscience Where is the basement? There is no basement! What the fuck now? Wait, there is a barn. My heart is pounding out my chest; I think this must be it. I don't know if I should yank the door or just pull it.

It has been almost a week since I brought them in. “What was that noise?” Amber asked in shock. “Hope that wasn't a snake or something bigger. It came from the basement” she added. She asked her questions and walked into the kitchen. I suddenly tried to cook up something but I couldn't come up with anything. I picked up the house landline and placed a pizza order. “I asked you a question,” Amber said as I left her hanging. “Oh sorry, uhm, I kept Mia’s kids here in the house down in the basement for the past week” As I spoke I saw her eyes wide end. She couldn’t believe her ears.

Not after what I’d seen. It had been days since I stumbled into the basement. Days since I discovered the truth lurking beneath the polished floors and pristine walls of that suburban dream home. I wasn’t sure how to bring it up to him without sounding crazy. How do you even start a conversation like that? “Oh, by the way, the house we’re buying has a basement full of illegal drugs. Thought you should know.” Yeah, right. So, I had to improvise. “Konrad,” I said softly, trying to steady my voice. He didn’t even look up from the papers.

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.

"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.

I get the smallest room because I’m the easiest to ignore. It’s at the end of the hall, where the heat barely reaches and the pipes scream in winter. If I need the bathroom at night, I have to walk past six doors and a flickering light that makes the shadows stretch wrong. I learned a long time ago to keep my shoes close and my robe within reach. “Lowest of the low,” Dion once laughed. “Fitting, don’t you think?” I shove that memory down and move on. Basement doors. Storage rooms. Empty apartments that still smell like dust and old fear. I chase a raccoon out of one crawlspace earlier, heart pounding like I’d just survived something epic.

Monica backed away slowly. “This isn’t funny anymore.” I quickly typed back. WHO IS THIS? The typing bubble appeared almost instantly. Then another message came. UNKNOWN NUMBER: “Check the hidden basement before midnight.”. My hands trembled violently. “What basement?” Monica asked nervously. I looked up slowly. “There’s an old basement downstairs.” Monica frowned. “You’ve never been there?”. I shook my head. “Dad never allows anyone go near it. Silence filled the room. The tension felt unbearable now.

Here we go again. Mike and Isaac got to the study, carrying cleaning products, brooms and mops as to leave the whole county squeaky clean. “Hey, Isaac,” said Brandon in a casual way. “Looks like there was a well in the basement.” His friend was leaving his load on the floor. “The basement?” he repeated, pointing down. “The only one around,” I replied, trying to smile. “There’s another under the guesthouse,” said Mike, beating Brandon to king of casual.

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.