Potato Chip Prompts ~~ Get Rich or Die Trying

At first, we thought the black liquid was oil, that we’d struck it rich and 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 choices were the usual, to buy a big house or a fast car. Jack decided to get a nice combination of both and go with a yacht. Then a strangled cry rose through the night from the direction of the oil, where we’d left Owen to guard the site.

Before we could do more than stand in response to the sudden noise, Owen burst through the treeline at the edge of the camp. He stumbled, fell, and rolled once down the small hill before coming to a halt, rocking back and forth on his back. His hands covered his face and he was keening, high and piteous, like a screaming rabbit. It sent goosebumps along my flesh, and raised the hairs all over my body. Our shadows were thrown large across him, making it difficult to see what was wrong. A couple of us moved, so the campfire light could illuminate him, and the bile rose in my throat at the sight.

His hands were burned, but not like that from a fire, but a steam-type burn. They were red and angry, like a lobster coming from the boiling pot still alive and thrashing. The skin and flesh were engorged and falling away from his hands. Between the trees rustling in the ominous wind and Owen’s moaning, we approached in trepidation. Rey got to him first, and with his hands trembling he reluctantly pulled Owen’s away from his face. It was something out of a nightmare.

His hands had only caught some of the damage, and he was missing the flesh over his right cheekbone. There was nothing left to save of his right eye, ear, and scalp, either, like they’d been blasted away.

He was babbling incoherently, and we leaned in close. We could only make out one word: run.

It was too late by then, we just didn’t know it yet. A roar echoed through the night like some slavering demon come up from the pits of hell, and my heart stopped. What broke through the treeline this time made Owen’s injuries look like sunshine, kittens, and happy thoughts.

Author: lotwordsmiths

Hello, there! I'm Toni, and I've been writing and reading primarily fantasy stories most of my life. What really set me on the path to be a writer was my 6th grade English teacher, Mrs. Thomas, who told me she could see me as an author some day. I made Legends of the Wordsmiths to share my stories, and hopefully, (someday), the stories of others, too.!

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