Some odd things happen so often that we can't help but to try and document them on a piece of paper or in a photograph. We try to remember what we felt in those moments when we look back on them, if we even do. Once we stop and feel for moments so lost from our minds, we can't grasp anything and slip away into this cocoon of empty and soulless emotions.

I look back on that night, this photo of the gas station. I'm standing next to you, you standing next to me. I can't help but feel miserable when I look at this photo.

----


== The Gas Station ==

What the hell are we doing here? I'm laughing and you're laughing, but I can't help but feel like it was my fault we ended up here.

"Hey, watch this"

There's some inky black liquid next to you. I'm trying hard not to throw up as you dip your fingers into its contents and put whatever the hell it is on your cheeks. The crap looks like football marks you would see on some kid before his big game.

"How do you even know what that is?"

I'm asking you, but I already know the answer

"I don't"

We both laugh for a bit then you take out your polaroid camera. I know you only have one frame of film in that thing.

"C'mere, Let me get a good shot of us"

It's not like we're going to want this moment to last forever, but I comply anyways. Making you annoyed is my last priority. You snap the picture as I make a silly face.

"Crap, the flash didn't go"

You say, worried as all hell.

"Don't worry, we have plenty of light here"

You nod agreeing. It's really late and that's the only thing I can tell with the clock in the car being busted. The stars up in the sky form some sort of constellation that I can't really remember the name of. I'm about to call you over, but you're already heading in to pay for our gas. I decide to walk in with you.

I ask you if you want a bag of chips

"No, I always hated chips, don't you remember?"

You say in a reassuring tone. I nod and just get myself a soda from the nearest machine. The thing has a small puddle of black and murky liquid oozing out from the bottom of it.

''I am definitely going to complain about that''

I walk over to you and I don't see anyone at the counter, but you have money in your had anyways. You alway were a little odd with your paying methods. I take a stroll over, and end up stopping behind you.

''Should I poke her?''

I raise my hand to poke you, but my hand stops as I spot a murky black liquid seeping through the wall at the far west side. I don't necessarily know what it is, but it's making me feel like something is amiss.

After a few minutes of standing there with my hand pretty much frozen in time, I spot a few more places where this black goo is pouring out from the walls. It just drips down and covers everything in its path like molasses. The way the liquid looks is just so disconcerting, it's uncomfortable to the point where I just want to book it and run. I try to move my legs, but they're not letting me go anywhere.

The black and murky ooze is now coming out from the floor. It's even starting to cover the room faster and faster. The faster the liquid goes, the faster I want to get out of this nightmare. After a while of standing at waist height, I can finally move again. I grab your shoulder, and try to turn you around, but you aren't budging.

It's getting so dark in this place of black goo and nightmares. The stuff is covering every single wall now and is starting to get up to my arms.

"Please, we need to go!"

I scream so loudly, probably piercing your eardrums.

You start to turn your head to face me. Your face is unrecognizable with spots of black across your cheeks. The face I once knew and loved so dearly was desecrated with this stuff. I want out of this nightmare, if it even is one. You smile as this black liquid starts to seep from your eyes.

"No, please not you"

I plead for you to stop and just stay with me for a bit longer.

The black liquid bursts from your eyes, blowing them completely from their sockets. It's getting hard to breathe with this molasses like substance practically burying my lips. The last thing I can get out is a squeal of pain, before complete darkness envelops me.


The last thing I remember after that is the rain tapping on my jacket, slowly eroding my mind.

----

That's the only thing I can remember from that photo. Your face was and still is a face I'll want to be kept in a bank vault. I get a little tired and decide to put the photo back in the box. I put the small box in a drawer.

I then spot a little bit of black liquid oozing from the wall.