Like Ceiling Can't Hold Us Novels & Stories

When I noticed he'd lowered himself and was now right above us, I raised my head outside the window and repeated what Dorothy had said about staying low. He nodded and later sat down where he'd been seated. Had not the top been made of strong metal, it would surely have burst open. It should have burst open, nevertheless, but the reason why it didn't, I could not fathom.

I said. He looked at me. "The ceiling in that building is badly damaged. There are cracked beams and a section that is already bowing. If it comes down while those children are eating—" I stopped and shook my head. "I need it repaired urgently." He nodded slowly. "Submit a report for the next council meeting and we can—" "Cassian." I took his hand and held it and felt him go slightly still at the contact.

But without a second thought, Joel picked up his tools and began prying the slab off Priscilla. "Priscilla is an actress. If her legs are broken, her life will be ruined." His voice was cold, as if I were nothing more than a stranger. Fighting through the pain, I pleaded with tears in my voice, "Joel, you know I have a congenital blood clotting disorder. If you keep prying that thing, my legs will break. I'll bleed out and die!" Even now, I naively hoped that Joel would show me a sliver of compassion.

Without him, I was a dead man walking, no witnesses to claw my name out of the muck. The drive twisted on forever, the van's taillights flickering like a taunt. Finally, we stopped before a half-built ruin, its bones rising into the night like a beast too broken to stand. Zion hauled himself out but froze at the edge of the structure. "The woman is hidden on the 10th floor…" he stammered, his voice quaking. "I can't go up there. I'm too fat to climb the stairs…" Cassius' boot met his ribs again. "Shut up! If you don't lead the way for me, I'll fry you in the oil pan tonight until you're golden brown inside and out!"

Sacrifice or collapse. Choose to contain the building Or let it fall. “You see?” he says softly. “Threshold.” Ezra steps in front of me instinctively. “Don’t,” I say. “If you absorb the load, you’ll spike,” he mutters. “If I don’t, people get hurt.” “That’s the point,” Matteo says sharply. The angel watches. Calm. Curious. The ceiling groans louder. Cracks spiderweb faintly across plaster. Students laugh faintly outside.

The room is gray except for the ceiling which is one big light. I sit on the floor and close my eyes. I listen for the any sound. Any clue as to what they expect of me. I open my eyes and look at the walls. They seem seamless, but that’s impossible unless they built this 10x10 room around me. I got in somehow. Then I realize the ceiling isn’t a light, it’s sunlight. It’s also 15 ft above me. I go back to the middle and sit for a while and listen. I’m my strongest right now. It’s only 15 feet. If I use the wall to push off I might be able to break it. I take a few deep breathes before I try.

"No, Marcus, you will not eat that. Try not to think of food. You will fall ill eating that! Focus on how we are getting out of here.” "I can't, Jack. I am trying." “The roof?” "What about the roof, Angela? "Well, we want to get out of here, so we must try any means possible." Jack looked up at the roof, "she is correct. It has ventilation. If we can get through it, we might be able to get out of here." “It's too high, Jack. There is no way we can get up there.” “Well, a sink roof panel needs to be pushed upwards. Then maybe we can hook it out and get through it.”

“No, look. Up there on the roof. It looks like a trap door. One of those false roofs that lead to a small part in the ceiling.” Xandra listened and her eyes went up, then she looked back at me. “I don't see it. What are you talking about?” I opened my mouth to reply when the banging on the door started. There was no more time. I looked around for something high to lift us to climb up. I saw a stool but it was made of metal, and if we moved it the people outside would be alerted.

I place my palms on the ceiling board above me and lift my legs up so that my knees and shins could support the weight. I scream through the pain of moving my leg but am able to do it, the weight also now on my legs and hands. “Aida, if I let go the ceiling will crush you, you won’t be able to support it.” Ricardo responds. “I’ll be fine, I’ve lived through worse. Lance…please?” I look to him, his eyes wide with the choice he must now make. He knows I won’t be able to support the weight but he must know Ricardo won’t be able to either.

The bright lights shining so brightly do not let me know when the sun has fallen or when it has risen unless I go to the window which allows me to see the sky and another tall building blocking my view from the world. I do not like to go to the window. I sit on the stool at the center of the room and imagine there's a fan above that I can hang my noose on - if I had a noose. It is not like I want to die. No, I'm too full of life to want death. There's no fan anyway. There is just the air-conditioner. I try standing on the stool. I position myself till I'm balanced then I reach up to touch the ceiling. The ceiling is way above me and I'm just an average girl. The mission was a failure even be