At first, we thought the black liquid was oil, that we'd struck it rich and that we'd be able to retire and live in leisure. We actually started writing down all the ways we'd spend the money. Our first choice was a huge house maybe a dog. in a city far away from the place we grew up. But the black liquid wasn't oil, it wasn't the saving grace we thought it was.
It took us about a week to figure out how to get the liquid out of the hole we found it in. We used a bucket to haul it out and the first thing we noticed is: it didn't shine like oil. We set the bucket down, neither one of us wanting to admit our hopes had been crushed.
Then it pulsed. It seemed like the world stilled in response. Bugs and birds went silent, the wind stopped as if Mother Nature herself was holding her breath. It pulsed again and again. The only sound left to hear was the beating of our hearts.
The pulsing matched our hearts rhythm. Screams crawled up our throats but before they emerged from our mouths the black liquid erupted from its hole. It swirled in the air pulling in the part that was in our bucket, to create a mass. We knew then that whatever the black stuff was it wasn't good. Those still left alive argue about it being angry or from space but no one ever says it's good. When it had completed turning itself into something somewhat solid, it awakened.
Our world was never the same.
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