The Cellar Novels & Stories

“My father used to store important documents down there. If there’s something he was hiding, it could be there.” Lucan nodded, and together they made their way through the mansion, their footsteps quickening as the anticipation built. The east wing of the estate had fallen into disrepair over the years, and the heavy wooden door leading to the cellar was swollen and difficult to open. But with a concerted effort, Lucan managed to pry it open, revealing a narrow staircase that led down into the darkness below. The air in the cellar was musty and thick, the scent of dust and decay filling their lungs as they descended. Elara’s hea

**"Comms dark. Cameras looped. Cellar door is mag-locked. Breach in 3... 2..." **BOOM.** A concussive thud shook the ground as Mack planted a breaching charge on the heavy cellar door. Stone dust rained down. The door groaned inward, hanging crookedly on shattered hinges. **"Go! Go! Go!"** Harlan surged forward, rifle up. Leo followed, heart hammering against his ribs. --- **The cellar** was a tomb of damp stone and the cloying stench of blood and spilled wine. Flickering emergency lights cast long, dancing shadows. And there—

She was too scared to make a sound. There was no time to waste. Unable to find the key, Caleb grabbed the sledgehammer in the corner and struck the cellar door repeatedly. With a loud crash, the door finally opened. A rotting stench hit them, and the small, dark cellar was laid bare for everyone to see. The foul smell made Caleb cover his mouth and nose instinctively. I leaned over to look, and inside was my corpse. The cellar was dark and damp. After three days of being dead, my body had started decomposing.

Cassandra muttered, "or worse...poisonous." There were some signs that people had wandered into the cellar before, but they wouldn't come as far as the deepest, darkest part of it. A few might have, but it was so dark and scary and damp that even the bravest of heart would turn right back. Besides the mansion was also rumored to be haunted. No doubt that the secret storeroom seemed to be the last place that remained the same. Their sense of triumph was tempered with awe at the sheer quantity of bottles that shone in the rays of the full moon through the windows.

He was anxious and was looking closely in every room. However, what he was brooding about was that he had looked almost everywhere in the Maple Division, yet there was no sign of Celine and Queenie. While he was passing by the side hall, he suddenly stopped in his tracks. He heard a weak sound coming from below him. It was as if they were in pain. 'There's a hidden cellar underneath?' Darryl did not hesitate. He immediately bent down and pried the wooden planks on the ground open with force. He noticed that below the floor was an underground prison.

"Tonight after your chores, prepare to sleep in the cellar." "No." I whimpered. The cellar was like a dungeon built by my uncle. It was made for people who had committed a crime to be locked up there. It used to be a tortured cell but as we evolved, they made it more to fit the generational trend but only worse than a precinct. "I would make sure that you are severely punished for lying to me Lia and don't forget that I do not bluff." He spat on my face and stormed out of the house in anger.

she told him with a grin, then turned back to give Maggie another task. Wyatt made his way downstairs to where the cellar was. It was the size of a small bedroom, located in the far back of the house. Caroline had insisted they have one built right after they bought the house, since collecting wine from all over the world had been one of her hobbies. Wyatt didn't mind it, though, because it also gave him a good place to store his expensive cigars. He pulled on the glass door of the cellar and stepped inside. As he scanned the wine, looking for the bottle that he had in mind, he couldn't stop thinking that Lily.

His instincts told him he was in the right spot. Adam surveyed the dimly lit cellar, estimating the worth of the wine glasses to be anywhere between $15,000 and $60,000. The room was secluded, shielded from any disturbances like noise, vibrations, or odors, and had excellent ventilation. The temperature indoors was a chilly 50-60 degrees Fahrenheit, not quite freezing but definitely cold. As Adam's gaze fell upon the enormous painting near the glass cellars, he couldn't help but feel a shiver run down his spine.

People would walk into the cellar but no one would walk out. The entrance to the old root cellar is outside and I run the short distance, not bothering to cover up with a coat. The door pulls hard as I open and step down the first three stairs, holding it open behind my back. Light shines brightly out of the root cellar in the humid air against the cold from outside. The door shuts behind me with a loud bang, but that's not what has my attention. It's the rows and rows of tall growing green plants laid out on tables spread throughout the area.

I was in a damp, pitch-black cellar, hunched in a corner with my injured leg behind me. The walls were slimy and wet, and the moisture soaked through my blouse. The door swung open, and a burst of light stung my eyes. I lifted my hand to block it. I heard footsteps and quickly shrank back, hiding deeper in the shadows. "Mr. Carver sent me to get you, Mrs. Carver." I looked up to see who it was. It was the bodyguard Henry had hired years ago.