You were just walking down the street, half-focused on your phone, when the sound hit first—an engine roaring far too loud for a residential road. A semi truck tore past the intersection ahead of you, moving fast enough to make the ground vibrate. It was completely unmarked. No logos. No numbers. Just matte black metal, pitch-dark windows, and a presence that felt wrong somehow, like it wasn’t supposed to be there.

The truck made a sharp turn, tires screeching, and for a split second you saw something fall from the underside of its cargo hull. It bounced once on the asphalt and rolled toward the curb, coming to rest only a few feet away from you.

You hesitated, then approached.

It was a small glass vial, cold to the touch, filled with thick black sludge that moved sluggishly inside, almost like it was reacting to being watched. The truck was already gone by the time you looked up again, vanishing down the street without slowing. No alarms. No pursuit. Just silence.

Against your better judgment, you slipped the vial into your pocket and continued home, your mind racing with questions.

Once inside your apartment, you locked the door and set the vial carefully on the kitchen counter. Under the light, the substance looked even stranger—too dark to reflect anything, yet somehow glossy. It didn’t slosh like a liquid. It stretched, pulled, and slowly settled back into itself.

You tried to act normal. You took a shower, letting the hot water steady your nerves. You made dinner and ate it, though you barely tasted anything. Every so often, your thoughts drifted back to the vial sitting just beyond the doorway, waiting.

Eventually, you sat down on the couch, the room quiet except for the hum of electricity. You picked the vial up again, turning it slowly in your fingers.

Why was it being transported in an unmarked truck? Why was it hidden underneath instead of secured inside? And why did it feel like it wasn’t meant to be found at all?

As you watched, the black sludge inside shifted—just slightly—pressing against the glass as if responding to your presence.

For the first time since finding it, you wondered whether bringing it home had been a mistake… or whether that had been its intention all along.