“Try a lighter on it,” the officer suggested, his hand resting cautiously on his belt. “If it’s metal, it won’t melt instantly. But let’s see what happens when you put some heat to it.”
Arthur pulled a flickering Zippo from his pocket, his hand shaking as he held the flame to the edge of the jagged clump. He expected the heat to roll off the surface, but instead, the “gold” began to hiss almost immediately. Within seconds, the amber streaks bubbled and liquefied, turning into a thick, oily black sludge that dripped onto the workbench. A dense puff of smoke curled into the air, carrying a heavy, musky stench that caught in the back of Arthur’s throat. It was an oppressive, ancient smell—cloyingly thick and undeniably foul.
As the black liquid pooled on the wood and the shimmering veins vanished into soot, Arthur realized his fortune had literally melted away, leaving nothing behind but a stain and a smell he would never be able to wash off.