INTRODUCTION

Hi steamians,
I want to say a very big thank you to
@patjewel for this contest, its always interesting and educating, and for this week contest, I will write on the topic CEILING with an interesting fiction,i hope you enjoy it.

THE LEAKING CEILING

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The continious drop echoed through the silence of the night. Sara lay in bed, looking steadily at the ceiling. She had first noticed the leak a few days ago—a tiny wet spot in the corner of her bedroom ceiling. But now, it was bigger.

The tiny patch had spread, darkening the plaster with moisture, and the sound of dripping water had become relentless. Drip. Drip. Drip. She sat up, deverstated, watching as the water pooled on the floor beneath the spot, soaking the rug. It was pretty too late to call for help, and the storm outside raged on.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, and the rain pounded against the windows like an army of tiny kicks. Sara grabbed a bucket from the verander and placed it under the leak, hoping it would hold until morning. But as she sat back down on the edge of the bed, something strange caught her attention.

The ceiling seemed… off. The way the water trickled down, it didn’t follow the natural path gravity should have taken. It flowed as though it was being pulled by something, moving in a deliberate, almost unnatural pattern.

She blinked, and for a moment, she thought she saw the damp patch shift. A shiver ran down her spine. The house was old, built a century ago, with creaky floorboards and hidden corners. Sara had always felt at home here—until tonight.

Pixabay

Suddenly, a louder crack split the air, not from the storm, but from above her head. The ceiling moarned, and a piece of plaster fell, scattering as it hit the floor. She jumped back, her heart racing.

Peering through the hole, she could see into the space between the floors, but what she saw frightened and made her blood run cold. There, nestled among the wooden beams and insulation, was a dark, slimy substance that moved from the ceiling.

It pulsated, alive with a life of its own, and right there it occured to Sara that the dripping water seemed to feed it, and it grew larger with each drop. The more she stared, the more it seemed to move, almost like it was aware of her presence.

Backing away, Sara fumbled for her phone. She had to get out of the house, call someone—anyone. But as she turned to flee, the door shut on its own forcefully. The lights flutered and went out, making the room dark, save for the dim glow from the storm outside.

And then she heard it. A whisper, faint and eerie, coming from above. "You're not alone," the voice hissed, echoing through the room. Sara froze. Her pulse raced in her ears, her breath coming in steady gasps. She glanced up again, and the ceiling was moving, the dark substance spreading like a web, tendrils reaching toward her.

The drip of water had slowed, now replaced by the slow,steady,rhythm of something alive. Without a second thought, she grabbed the door handle, forcing it open with all her strength.

Pixabay

The house seemed to moan as if it was ready to let her go, but she ran down the stairs and out into the heavy rain, not stopping until she reached her car handle. As she drove away, the house brewed behind her, dark and silent, but the memory of that pulsating ceiling and the whispers in the dark would haunt her long after the storm had passed.

Thanks.

l want to invite my friends to @adachukwu and @ngozi996 to participate