The Car by Chris Leishman


A Short-Story By:   Copyright ©Chris Leishman 

It started, oddly enough, with the start of an engine. That’s how it began; don’t ask me why this begins that way; it just does. Jacob and a few others were there too, watching me in this mint, broken-down, pink, Cadillac, grease covering my hands and face, cigarette hanging out of my mouth like the walking definition of a fire hazard. Jacob had told me he was bored, as did the others, in fact. Me? I was completely zen. I was like, in some sort of trance, wanting to get this derelict beast back up and running.  I didn’t care about their trivial wants, their neediness for a quick hit of adrenaline, after coming down from the last high. I swear, that most, if not all, of the gang, had ADHD or something like that. I had read that in a magazine article once. Something about not being able to pay attention to – eh, it doesn’t matter. Either way, I didn’t care too much about their boredom. I was out in the field with my father’s tool box and a pack of ciggy’s. I was sorted for the day.

“Oi Hunter!” I heard Jacob yell.

I looked up over the bonnet.  I had made it back to the engine by that time; my previous attempts to re-start the car were not very fruitful. “What?!”

“How long do you think you’ll be?” He paused; “Munt needs to take a shit and Karla is just shit-bored.” Karla hit Jacob on the shoulder, resulting in a low yelp.

I wiped the sweat from my forehead, causing the congealing grease to transfer to my forearm. I didn’t know how to answer the question. Bored? How the fuck could somebody be bored doing this? It was a classic! Sure, the pink paint was flaking and the metal was rusted; wheels were gone and the lining was munted – but still, the engine still had some juice in her. I simply shrugged and went back to work.

I was narrow-minded and focused on the car altogether. It was a while before Jacob tapped me on the shoulder.

“Oi Hunt! Me and the others are gonna do some doughies at the lake.”

“’Kay,” I responded, without looking up at him. I was busy screwing in the spark plugs; they kept slipping out of my fingers and getting stuck in the little gaps.

Jacob came in and whispered; “you should come. Karla seems into you, or at least, that’s what Donna’s sister told me.”

I looked up at Karla. She was alright, nice face, good body. Good enough for a one-off, maybe even a two-off. That could wait, though. I had to finish what I’d started. If I could get this beast up and running there would be lines of Karlas wanting to score with me. Besides, Jacob had lucked out recently with his missus, so I thought it would be the right thing to do, you know, considering. Let him have some of the action. I was good like that.

“Nah mate! Have a good time,” I told him.

“What about you, though, how you gonna get back home?”

Good ol’ Jacob, always looking out for me. I guess that’s how we’re best mates. We always looked out for each other.

“I’ll just text ya when I’m done. Hell, with any luck, I’ll get this baby up and running by then.”

It was a joke, but Jacob still gave a worried chuckle, like he understood, but was still worried. It was sweet of him, to be honest. Jacob was like a brother to me in many respects and I could always count on him to look out for me. If I ever got wasted, he would be the sober one and vice-versa.

He shrugged and went off, raising his hand to say goodbye.

“I’ll get us a box tonight,” he added, before jumping into the Ute and driving off, kicking up a barrage of mud and muck.

“Chur!” I simply nodded my head and watched them disappear, before getting back to work.

.           .           .

Ah, shit! I should probably tell you why I’m here. Well, one night me ‘n’ Jacob were doing laps around town. You know, the usual Friday night, shit. The clubs were all dead and the pubs were only open till two; so what fucking else are ya gonna do?

Well anyway, we were driving around when Gabby has this idea to go down the gorge with the lights off. Fucking stupid in retrospect, but great at the time. I think he really wanted to get laid by his missus that night ‘cos he was trying to get her scared and shit. He had read in an old Playboy he had from the 70’s (apparently they had them back then) that you should scare your girl occasionally ‘cos it raises her sexual hormones or something. Look, I don’t know, I’m not a fucking sexologist. Sounded like a stupid idea to me. How does getting scared make you want to get off? It’s like opposites; maybe it’s got something to do with the saying, opposites attract? I dunno!

Anyway, it was fucking working! There I was driving while Jacob and his girl were practically having it off in the backseat. I looked in the rear-view mirror for, I swear, a second; not in a homo sort of way, just in a – you know, curious way. I feel this loud bump and the car began swerving on the gravel road. I slam on the brakes, sending Donna flying forward. I seriously thought the fat bitch would smash through my windscreen and I would have to buy a fucking new one. But I also thank Christ, as the car was a little dodgy. I had modded her myself and put her together, but the brakes were still a bit touchy.

So we stopped and we’re all freaking out. I turn on the lights and see nothing ahead of us. I tell them to wait while I inspect. I look at the fender and see there’s blood on it and a huge dent. Not a good sign, if there ever was one. There were splatters of red coating the pink paint job (don’t laugh, it came like that). I was freaking the fuck out! What if I’d hit some backwoods farmer and their inbred family was gonna come and rape me? Too many horror films, I know.

I went to the back of the car and discovered something that would let everything settle inside of me. It was only a fucking sheep. The thing was still alive, twitching on the gravel; its guts spilled out looking like strange appendages; like wings or something. I felt the biggest relief ever. I did feel for the poor thing, it was obviously suffering and confused. So, I started to look around for a rock to smash its head in, you know, like in the movies. I thought it was, at least, the humane thing to do.

I started searching for the murder weapon when I saw it. I saw the rusted pink reflecting off my headlights. In the middle of the paddock next to me there she was. She was a thing of beauty, or at least, she once was. She had potential. I jumped the fence and inspected the vehicle. I popped the bonnet. It was still dark, so I couldn’t see shit. I lit a ciggy and put the tip up to the engine. She looked to be in tip-top shape, or as much as she could be. So I gleefully hopped back in the car and told Jacob of my findings.

“So, what did we hit?” he asked after I had explained my story.

“What?” I asked back, “It was a sheep or something. Who fucking cares! I found a beauty of a car. Tomorrow, we come back and fix her up.”

Jacob sat in silence, he didn’t seem too keen. Donna seemed pissed off, trying to cover her tits with her arms; claimed to have lost her shirt. I don’t know why she was so pissed off. It wasn’t like I hadn’t seen them before. So, I kept a mental note of the place, before leaving. I nearly forgot about the sheep. I thought that I would quickly reverse over her again to put her out of her misery. I didn’t warn the other two and this seemed to piss Donna off even more. I don’t know why. I thought she would be chuffed that she knew a guy that would humanely kill an animal. She didn’t like it, though, as they broke up, that night. Whoops!

.           .           .

So that’s the story. That’s why I’m here. What? You expected it to all link together? That the sheep had some sort of point to the story, as to why I was fixing this car? You’ve been reading too many stories. Life’s random. It’s a series of random events, that joined together, create somebody’s experience on this Earth. It’s not some sort of well-interwoven narrative that all joins together at the end, or at least for me it hasn’t been. I was born the baby of a hard-working couple (that I love to bits) and I have grown up to be a complete toss-head. No grand narrative there; no interwoven plan… Sorry… I do tend to ramble, as you can attest to.

I had been out there for what must have been twelve more hours. By the time I had finished tinkering with the engine, the sun was glowing orange. I looked down at my digital watch. It was either five, or three, or six. I didn’t know. Some of the lines in the numbers were broken and didn’t work. Either way, it was getting late. I hopped into the driver’s seat and prayed she would start up. I’m not Christian or anything, I just sometimes talk to God, you know. Like, when I want to do really well in my test or when Kendal Smith was peeing on the stick. I just ask him to give a brother a helping hand. Sometimes it works, other times God says Nah!

So, I begin fucking around with the wires under the steering wheel to get her started. It all started off with me trying to do that thing you see in the movies. Turns out it’s a lot harder than it looks. You literally have to do five things at the same time, but with practice, I was able to get it down, to now, where I don’t even have to think about it. I know it sounds like I’m confessing to stealing cars and shit, but I haven’t. It was only to get my car after mum took my keys one time when I was disqualified… and one other time at a golf course, but I won’t get into that one.

I begin rubbing the wires together and trying to get the car started and to my surprise, God answered me! The fucking thing started. I revved the engine a few times to be sure and she was going for it. I fist-pumped the air, hitting the roof of the car and hurting my hand a little, but I didn’t care. I got her started. As the machine bobbed back and forward I looked at the vibrating rear view mirror, it was cracked and most of the shards were still on. I looked at my face, I was a complete mess. No doubt about it, I would have to have a good dip in a lake or something (I didn’t want to use the shower at home ‘cos the grease would clog the drains and shit. I read that in an article once). Upon inspecting my face I swear and this is where shit gets a little crazy, I swear, I saw a dark figure in the back seat. Like someone completely in black. I nearly shat myself. I spun around to see no one there. My phone began vibrating, distracting me from the figure. It was Jacob. His text said; “Yo, it’s nrly 8 bro. u nd a lft?”

Eight? Shit! Was it that late? I popped my head out of the car and looked out into the auburn sky.  It was begging to become a dark, deep, violet. I leant back and texted him; “yup… brng sum rope or something. I got this baby up n runnin!!!!” I sat back and let the vibrations of the car flow through me. I was proud of the day’s work and was ready to sleep my victory lap. I began to drift off to sleep, as the memories of the dark passenger began to fade away.

.           .           .

She was a bit of a struggle to get her home. I had forgotten there were no tyres and the hubs were scratching on the gravel road as we tried our exit. Sparks flew, much to the amusement of the stoners in the backseat of Jacob’s Ute. I was pretty fucked off at that; they were just giggling and staring at my new car, as sparks flew around me. I had gone to the trouble of fixing it only for it to be a bitch on the way home. Luckily I texted my Indian friend Benjy and he dropped off a few space-savers he was able to salvage from the yards (his dad owned the scrap yard). So, I put the space-savers on and we were our way. She was a bit of a bumpy ride as the space-savers were uneven, as some were from bigger cars and some were from smaller, but it didn’t matter. As long as I steered correctly, I was able to do my job.

I loved being in that car. Seriously, there was just something about it. Something, I don’t know… orgasmic? Not in an auto-erotica kind of way (I read that in a mag. as well. No! Not that type of mag, you sicko!) but, in a satisfied kind of way. Like, it seemed, I felt complete. Normally I would get bored sitting around driving and I would grab my phone out to play some games, even though my phone was ancient as! Seriously, it was like one of them flip ones; they don’t even make them anymore. But it’s all good ‘cos Benjy showed me how to install cool games like doodle jump or snake. He even showed me how to get porno on it, so I could get off on the run. I think it’s important for guys to have…you know. I think I’m rambling again.

So yeah, eventually Jacob dropped me and the car home. He wanted to stay and have a few, but I told him to go home. I wasn’t up to it. To be honest, I just wanted to fuck round with the car some more. I spent the remainder of the night tuning the car up. No shit, I think I went to bed at four in the morning. I worked straight through. But, I wish I didn’t go to bed, ‘cos that’s when shit got weird.

I don’t know what time it was, but I was having this kick-ass dream. I was one of the X-Men, Wolverine, of course, ‘cept he had all the mutant powers and was bad-ass. So, I’m Wolverine and I have to assassinate the President ‘cos he’s really an evil cat lady. I go down and see she’s not actually a bad guy, but is really that hot chick from that TV show – you know the one!…and then she sees me and acts all sexual like.

There I go! Rambling again! Sorry! So, anyway, I was having this kick-ass dream and I was awakened by some sort of rustling in my room. I woke up, really groggy and feeling like shit. I opened my eyes and sat up. The room was still dark, so it probably was five or something. Now this is where it’s weird, the rustling noise stopped, after I woke up…but what’s weirder than that is that I’m a fairly heavy sleeper. One time Jacob was having it off at this party and I was asleep right next to them the whole time. You think that shit would have woken me up, but no! Yet, this quiet rustling woke me up this time. Fuck me!

I lay in bed trying to get back to sleep, but every time I would shut my eyes, I swear that fucking rustling would start again! Really quiet at first, like, not that noticeable, but after a few minutes, it would get louder and louder. I put my hands up to my ears. At first, I thought it was the cat, Mitzie, but then I remembered she died a few years ago. I shot back up, angry and frustrated. The rustling stopped again. I was so worked up by this noise I just had to get up and get a glass of water or something. The taps had stopped working a week ago, so I had to have some left over piss, from the weekend. It was flat as, but it was enough to calm me. I began to make my way back to my room when I noticed the door to the garage was open. Like, not fully open, but just enough for me to see in. The fucking light was on too!

I moved towards the door, really slowly. I was unsure what to expect, maybe some sort of burglar was trying to break in through the cat-flap in the garage. Joke was on him though ‘cos the cat-flap was nailed shut, due to neighbourhood cats coming inside. A second later, I felt a twang of guilt, as I had assumed the burglar was a dude and not a chick. I’d have to apologise for that if I ever saw him… or her – fuck!

I reached the door and pushed it open. There was a loud creak, but almost like a crack or something. It was way louder than I have ever heard the door creak before. Pain shot through my arm, like extreme pain; enough pain to bowl me over. I fell to my knees, heard a deafening pop and all sensation to my feet was gone. I was too distracted by the sudden pain to notice the lights were way brighter than usual; like, instead of yellow, it was a hot white. My head began to feel really heavy and my arms began to feel tingly. Blood began to drip from my nose, or at least, I think it was my nose. My brain felt as if it was going to explode.

I managed to get my strength and move my head up to look at the car. It was all too bright! I could barely make anything out. You know when you look at something that has a bright light behind it and it looks like the bright light is reaching out to you, over the thing, with its long slender arms? Well, that was happening to me, ‘cept there were arms reaching out for me, fingers too. I couldn’t move I was fucking helpless. I couldn’t see anything either except… except… I…uh…it’s hard for me to put this situation into words. It’s just hard to even think about it to be honest. There was something on the boot of the car, it was this black… thing! I…it was evil. It just turned its head, really slowly, every movement sounded like the cracking of bones or something. It…It had this smile. I couldn’t see its face, but I could see the smile just staring at me. Look…as I said, it’s hard to think about this, I wasn’t in a good state. It was like some sort of bad ‘shroom trip. I had only taken ‘shrooms once and it was never as bad as that moment.

So anyway, I was still bloody and frozen on my knees. That’s when the rustling started again. The thing looked down, making that horrible cracking noise like its bones were clicking and shifting out of place. Its movement was weird as well, like stilted, fast but jittery at the same time. That’s when the rustling got louder and more panicked; it changed into scratching, clawing, and banging. Then I heard the worst noise I have ever heard. It was thick-clicking, like laughing, in some weird way; but it was deep and guttural. I so wish I didn’t go to sleep that night; it’s all still vivid, you know. This would have been a great time for God to answer me, but I think I may have used up my quota. The blood was still dripping and I was still felt paralyzed. I could also hear this dripping sound, like water from a tap. That was when I noticed the blood was dripping up, not down! Weird shit right?

The thing was still laughing, or, at least, my mind was telling me he was. It was kind of like when you hear a continuous noise and then it stops, but the noise is still echoing in your head. The rustling, or banging, or whatever it was, just got louder and faster. That was when the fucking thing jumped off the boot and began making its way towards me. It looked like it had some sort of disability or something, as it would move its body one side at a time. It was taller than I thought. Before, it was crouched in a spider-man-like position. Now it stood about ten maybe eleven feet tall. The thing’s horns, or, at least, they looked like black furry horns, were scraping the roof of the garage. The crackling was intense and louder as well. Then it stopped and so did all the noises. It was looking me over. Slowly, it raised its arm and pointed forward with a tremendous amount of clicking and cracking. It was pointing behind me. Fuck! IT WAS POINTING FUCKING BEHIND ME! You know you’re well and truly fucked when the big, scary, thing, stops; frightened, and points behind you. I managed, with great effort, to move my head to look behind me. It was the hooded figure. It shrieked as I saw it!

Boom! Wet-the-bed moment right there! I shot up out of bed. I was fucking asleep! It was like some “Inception” shit! I thought I must have fallen back asleep, but still, I was shaking. I curled up in a ball on my bed and felt the tears well up in my eyes – honest-to-God tears. Not of fear, but of happiness, that it was finally over and it wasn’t real! Except it wasn’t over, I still have to live with that memory for the rest of my life. Even now I can still clearly see it… hear it…

Anyway, it was a while before I got out of bed. I had to play mental gymnastics to convince myself that I was fine and I could get up. I shuffled into the kitchen and wouldn’t you fucking know it, the door to the garage was open! I swear I could have shit myself, right then. Any sane person would have run away, but I don’t know, the fear was suddenly sucked out of me and I needed to work on the car. I made my way to the garage and looked. It was all normal. I looked at the car and got mental flashbacks to the black thing, but when I was there, I was fine, I felt safe. So I started working on the car again, all spectres and ghosts a distant memory.

That night was a late one as well. Once it hit night, I started chugging the coffee. I felt safe with the car, but I didn’t want to go to bed and sleep. As soon as I left the garage I felt the fear surge through me. So, I made a thermos of coffee and spent most of my night in the garage. The single-mindedness of my activities was enough to pre-occupy me. Jacob had texted me three times during the day. I ignored them all. I just needed to keep my mind away from that night and with the car, oddly enough, my mind was clear.

It was around three a.m. when my eyes felt droopy. I went to pour more coffee into my mug, but the thermos was empty. I decided to make one final dash into the kitchen to fill it, but I really wish I hadn’t done that. What would follow would be a series of mistakes, which would make the previous night seem like a trip to the Botanic Gardens, so…you know it was pretty awful.

First of all, let me say, I was feeling really cocky at this time. Like I had cheated death and given it the middle finger. So I kind of felt invincible at that hour. I was still shit-scared to go to sleep, but as long as my car was in vision (I made sure to leave the door wide open) I felt I would be sweet as. When the jug was boiling and I began to hear the rustling again, I got a really shit-stupid idea. Like, this is even beyond stupid. If any of you have phantom noises, please don’t do what I did at that moment. I decided, Fuck it; I’m gonna have some fun with this thing. So I began laughing when I heard the noise. I laughed harder and louder than the noise. It was real laughter too ‘cos I was doing this stand-up piece in my head.  It was pretty crack-up, so I laughed louder and louder. Only problem was, the noise was also getting louder and then the banging started. I paused for a brief moment, as a twinge of anxiety shot me down; fear that the dark thing would return. In that brief moment of pause, the laughing started; that deep guttural laughing, of the dark thing. Quickly, thinking on my feet, I sang the first thing that came into my head; “Walking on Sunshine”. I sang the song loud and proud, voice wavering every now and then, due to the overwhelming fear. My thinking was, if I pretended to be okay, it would all go away.

Then it just stopped. My singing kind of drifted away, as a sense of uneasiness fell over me. The bloody kettle popped, giving me a massive fright; but apart from that, I felt good again. Then I heard jingling like some sort of bell bobbing up and down. I couldn’t even register the fear when something fucking furry brushed against my leg. It meowed, calming me. I looked down and saw this, cute as, cat. It obviously had an owner and had climbed in through the window or something. I picked him up and started petting it. I named him Winston and decided Winston would keep me company for the rest of the night. I filled my thermos and went back to work.

It was quiet and peaceful for about half an hour after the incident. Winston was being all curious and shit jumping up on a stool I placed for him, to look at the motor. After a while, Winston moved to the boarded up cat-flap and began to meow. I thought, if he needed a shit or piss, he could just do it in the garage as I didn’t want to lose the company. I heard the cat purring. I could hear him nestle around the door. I would’ve looked, but I was stuck underneath the car. It was soon after when I heard him patter back through the door, into the house and out of the garage.

Fuck! I thought I needed that cat in the garage to keep me company. I clicked my fingers and patted the side of my leg. I didn’t hear the cat patter back, but I felt him, or she, nuzzle against my fingers that were stretched out from underneath the car. I scratched the bottom of his chin as he began to purr and lick my fingers. Yeah, lick my fingers, weird I know. It felt like sandpaper and wasn’t very pleasant. I pulled my hand back and wiped it against my pant leg.

Anyway, I got back to my work. About five minutes later I heard scratching from the cat flap. Winston wanted out and wanted out badly.  I decided to ignore this once again as I really wanted the company and could deal with the shit or piss smell. Winston then went to trying to rip the boards out. I could hear the loose wood banging against the edge of the cat flap. I decided I probably should let the poor fella out. He’s probably missing out on some primo tail time and a brother wouldn’t let another brother miss out on that. So I slid out from underneath the car and got to my feet, wiping the grease off my hands.

“Okay, Winston I will let you o…” I couldn’t finish my sentence.

I looked over and saw the fucking cat come in from the kitchen. He was stretching like he had just had a nap. I began to breathe slowly as the noise intensified behind me. The wood clacking became louder and more aggressive. I turned. There was a hand reaching through trying to rip the boards clean off. Behind the door, I could hear a faint hum. Whoever it was, was fucking humming “Walking on fucking Sunshine”! I turned back and went to run into the kitchen when the door slammed in my face. I had run straight into it and fell down in pain, clutching my now broken nose. I turned and rested my back against the door. I tried to get up, but I just didn’t seem to have the energy. The hand was still wrestling with the piece of wood and the humming got louder and more intense. Poor little Winston bounded towards the hand. I went to yell for him to stop, but only gurgling came out; I had lost some teeth as well. Winston started licking the fingers and they slowly wrapped around the poor animal’s neck, before ripping it through the cat flap.

It was silent for a few seconds before the laughter started again. My laughter and its laughter; it was like somebody was playing back a recording. The boot of the car began to bang up and down, louder and louder. The boot flew open and the banging stopped. I first saw a black arm come out of the boot. The crackling started again as the black creature contorted out of the boot and came towards me. I was paralyzed with fear. The laughing was deafening. I reached up with my free arm to get a hand on the door handle; it’s fucking hot! I recoiled and fanned my hand up and down. I realized my only salvation was through the back door; the cat-flap door. I mustered all my strength and just fucking went for it. I ran and ran, hitting the door and hoping to God (there I am praying to him again) that the person on the other side was gone. I opened the door and ran into a wall of fog.

I kept running until my legs started to ache, which was a bloody long while. Finally, I stopped for a breather and realised I had no bloody clue where in the hell I was. There were dense walls of fog all around me. I felt cold and alone. The blood on my face was hardening and a sense of quiet dread fell over me. Suddenly there was this big fucking whoosh and I saw a black figure in front of me, in the distance. The fog began separating like it was creating this path for the figure. I slowly began to walk towards it. Don’t ask me why, it just felt like the right thing to do. The fucking thing then rushed me. It was the hooded figure!

Next thing I know I wake up in my bed again. Only, this time, I couldn’t move, my body was frozen, paralyzed by an unseen force or something. I was able to open my eyes and I could see shadows moving around the room. I freaked out! I was fair shitting myself, internally. I forced myself to open my eyes and I saw the black figure, standing there, just staring at me. I felt like I was going to cry. (That’s not an easy thing for me to say, by the way.) On the other side, oh God! It’s hard to say this. Well, the other figure was there also. There was no banging, only a slight hum, like when you put a magnet up to a TV. I could hear voices, like rushed and horrified voices, panicking. There was a loud beeping and the smell of bleach filled my nostrils before I felt a slight shock to my chest and everything went dark.

I woke up again. I was underneath the damn car. I tried to sit up but slammed my head on the metal underbelly. I felt like such a tool. Rubbing my head, I slid out from underneath the car. My head was still pounding. It was morning or, at least, day. I looked around and the room was the same as it had been the night before, or I think it was. I began to move away when I heard the humming once more. I froze on the spot for a second, fear embracing me once more. I turned around and saw the boot pop open. I knew what I needed to do and I made my way to the boot. The humming became louder and louder. I felt sick, but I knew I needed to get over to the boot. I reached the destination, but I looked up, not wanting to look down into the open boot. The humming became unbearable. Words were then added to this demonic symphony; ”Walking on Sunshine”. It was distorted, crackly! I could feel blood dripping from my nose again.

Woooahh! I looked down and my heart sunk. No snarky remark, no false bravado, I was stripped to my core. I was looking down and staring back at me was the dead-eyed corpse of myself. Things began to be clear; on either side of me stood the black figure and the hooded figure. They were not malicious at all – they were there to help. And didn’t it feel good?

It came back to me in a flash; like how you’d see in a film where the twist was being explained. Except this wasn’t a film, this was real-life, me; driving down the gorge with Jacob and Donna. They were in the backseat going at it really hard. I looked in the rear-view mirror for, I swear, a second. Not in a homo way, just in a, you know, curious way. I feel this loud bump and the car began swerving on the gravel road. I slammed on the brakes sending Donna flying forward. She went through the windshield sending shards of glass in my face. The other problem was, my junker of a pink Cadillac didn’t have great brakes, so the car just kept going. I felt a second bump, as we went over Donna. The car then flipped over twice, leaving us sitting in the middle of a paddock. See, it is all connected, tied together in a nice little bow.

The hooded figure pulled his hood back revealing his face; it was me! I turned to the black figure and I could clearly see his face now. Surprise, surprise, he was me as well! I…I…I…don’t quite remember what I did next. A lot of it is a blank after that point. I can remember running, running, until I couldn’t run anymore. I just wanted to get away from them, from all of it!

Next thing, (I probably sound like a fucking broken record by now), I woke up. Only, this time, I could feel pain and numbness all over my body. My vision was blurred; I was sitting up and all I could hear was a series of beeps. The smell of bleach filled my nostrils. My heart skipped a beat as I heard “Walking on Sunshine” again. “I’m Walking on Sunshine”. I moved my eyes over and saw a young girl in the bed next to me listening on her iPod. My eyes began to adjust to the room. It was bright and loud. I tried to move, but my limbs were cement. I shifted my view to back in front of me. It was a calendar, next to a ticking clock. The calendar had a pink Cadillac on it, from the 1960’s or something. A cold breeze came over me and I heard rustling and banging beside me. I looked over and saw the curtains flapping in the wind. Near the window lay a stack of open magazines somebody had left behind. I tried to move once more, but I was restrained, by a heavy weight.

It suddenly dawned on me; this would be the rest of my life – staring at that fucking pink Cadillac for the rest of my life; listening to that goddamned song.

“I’m walking on sunshine , wooah”

“I’m walking on sunshine, woooah”

“I’m walking on sunshine, woooah”

“and don’t it feel good!!”

.           .           .



Co-author of Paranormal Alley

Paranormal Alley

Paranormal Alley



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