One day, the water began to run black from under the bridge. Not only black, but the water ran thick and slimy. People feared it, as they would not near the waters at all. They looked elsewhere for a source to water their crops. No one neared the bridge.
A woman could not afford to go further for her water. She also could not afford to risk touching the slimy black waters. It couldn’t be good for her vegetables. But the bridge was there, where the blackness began. So that is where she went to look.
Others watched her near the bridge, the bridge no one else dared cross since it begun. She walked over the top of it. She walked back. Nothing happened. She looked over the edge.
Then she disappeared. The water, black and viscous, bubbled.