Complete The Story: My Take

Prompt #1

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 starting writing down all the ways we'd spend the money.

Our first choice was a house in Vegas, the most luxurious, garish, and gaudy one we could think of. Well, it was my first choice. But then Lewis said that it 'wasn't too smart'. Something about being targets by all the other rich people in Vegas. I bounced back with California, but he said there was rich people there too, so we couldn't go there. I don't know too much about the world outside of Spindletop and oil drilling, so I trusted him.

He'd suggested we get a modest house, only two stories, right by the lake. I could tell he hadn't intended to move much. I mean, we were right on the water anyway, Sabine was practically at our back door.

"Ain't no harm in getting closer."

Our second choice was leaving the country altogether. Neither of us had visas or passports or anything, but they weren't hard to get, not really. We were grown men, we had the whole world open to us. We could go to France, Romania, Italy, anywhere. I personally was banking on Australia. I heard that their bacon is the best bacon you can get on this whole planet.

Our third choice was just renovating where we lived now, though I don't think either of us really wanted to stay in our homes. Our families weren't the kindest of people anyway. Too racist and loud-mouthed, we always said.

We'd settled for Orange Beach, Alabama. Away from home, but not too far. Figured the color would make us feel closer to home. But we were gonna make it known that we were the rich ones on the block, that was clear. We'd be hosting pool parties every evening, cooking up Wagyu beef steaks and burgers and serving Dalmore 62 each night. Hell, we could probably get away with charging people a hundred bucks a night they showed up. The atmosphere and the food would be so good that nobody would give a damn about wasting their money. I'd bring that up later.

But even if Lewis was smarter than I was, he could never resist a good woman. That's what he and I saw eye to eye on. We weren't gonna get any hookers, though. Back then, we never had the money. Then age got to be the problem. Really, all we'd wanted at that point was a well-rounded woman we could be sweet on. Especially if she knew how to cook. They always say the best way to a man's heart is through his stomach. That ain't no lie.

I'd had a feeling we'd find ourselves a couple Southern Belles once we established ourselves in Orange Beach. A couple o' rich white men in their early forties willing to spend money on a woman? Once you've gotten that far, the only issue was choosing who you'd take. But we weren't players. We just certain tastes, see.

We hadn't even thought anything of it. Living together, I mean. It just seemed like the thing to do. We both made the find, and we were close enough friends that being in close quarters didn't bother us. I guess we just kinda figured there was no point wasting the money on two houses when a house wasn't all we were going to get. Sports cars were definitely on the list. Then there was charity, to make it show that we were good folk and didn't want no one to suffer from things like cancer. A new wardrobe also seemed appropriate. All of our clothes were worn and tattered, it would have been nice to feel clean and fresh for a change.

But we were wrong. 

It wasn't oil we'd struck. To this day I still don't know what that shit was. Lewis had gone back a couple days later to make sure nobody else had found it, that it was still ours. I'd followed him after I'd gotten my boots on. I wish I hadn't taken the time.

By the time I got there, he was half swallowed in that shit. It was like some living being, with tentacles like an octopus, coiling around him and forcing him down into the 'oil'. It seemed more like a sludge at that point.

I screamed out for him. I tried to give him a hand, but one of those nasty tentacles shot out at me and wrapped around my arm. I won't never forget how disgusting that felt. I couldn't bring myself to go back for him. He screamed and screamed, thrashing all about, but I couldn't do it. I felt like I was hallucinating at first. It just didn't seem real. I just sighed and went back home. I figured Lewis would be there, asking me where I had gone, and then saying something mundane, like that he borrowed my milk.

He never came back. So neither can I. Sorry, Ma.

Mike