The Ghost in the Machine

Lily watched the salesman, Bobby-John Miller, return yet again to the car parked in the furthest corner of the lot. Bobby-John raised his arms awkwardly so his garish plaid coat wouldn't rip at the shoulders as he worked. He swiped a rag across the windshield, erasing the already low price scrawled there. With grease pencil in hand, and much cursing under his breath, he again adjusted his ill-fitted coat and wrote another—lower—price across the glass.

Lily's eyes widened in horror. Her car, her beautiful car was going for . . . she rubbed her eyes . . . one hundred dollars? It was a lie, a joke. She looked at the prices marked on the other cars in the used-car lot. The only other car with a three-digit price tag was a rusting hunk of junk. It didn't even compare to the beauty Miller had just reduced again. It was an outrage. She kicked the salesman hard in the shin. Her daddy's car was worth far more than that!

With a cry of pain mingled with fear, the salesman spun around in a complete circle, his gruesome coat flaring out like a tent. His eyes were wide with terror and his bushy moustache twitched back and forth.

"Who did that?" he demanded. Bobby-John had heard the rumors about the car being haunted by a ghost. He'd heard the stories of how the car tried to drive itself to the ravine and over the edge of the road, ultimately killing the poor sap foolish enough to buy the car and think it was possible to live through the curse of the car. He hadn't wanted to believe it. All of his employees refused to go anywhere near the car any longer which was the only reason Bobby-John himself had been forced to take over the job of trying to unload the hunk of junk. He wondered now if the rumors were true. It amazed him, and everyone for that matter, that the car was still in driving condition after all it had been through. He bent his bulky frame to peer under the car. "Who did that?" he asked again, fear making his voice tremble. "You boys playin' tricks on me?"

He rose and laughed aloud. Sure, that was it. The other salesmen were playing a trick of some sort.

Lily glared at him and pinched his ear.

"I . . . I swear!" he said, his voice quivering in time with his body. "I'm not afraid of you."

"You oughtta be! And if not me, then be very afraid of my daddy when he finds out what you're up to!" Lily screeched and kicked him again. Bobby-John only felt a sharp breeze when she spoke but it was strong enough to chill him right to the bone. He pressed a hand to his throbbing shin and screamed in pain and fear as he ran back to the office.

Lily sat down in the driver's seat and laid her head back. She turned on the radio and listened as Chubby Checker belted out her favorite song. She sang along. Wiggle like a stick, wobble like a duck. That's what you do when you do the Hucklebuck. The image of all her classmates doing the Hucklebuck made her laugh. Oh, how she'd love to be back there now.

If only she hadn't let her date drive her daddy's car to the prom that night. If only she hadn't tried to do the Hucklebuck right there in the car and kicked the steering wheel. Davey had been killed on impact when the car had finally stopped it's end over end flipping right side-up, smack at the bottom of the ravine. Apparently, and this was the part that Lily found truly confusing, she had been killed too, but she knew that was a lie.

What had happened, Lily was certain, was that she had somehow become trapped in a time hole or something. Davey told her once about things like that happening to people all the time. If she could only get someone to drive by the ravine, she could take over driving and save herself and Davey, and her father would never know she had rolled his beloved Cadillac. She was certain she could easily explain the situation if only someone would listen. All she wanted to do was to drive by the ravine, keep the car on the road and all would turn out right. But really, the nerve of these salesmen trying to practically give away a beauty of a car like her daddy's.

She closed her eyes and hoped someone who wasn't so cheap would come along and make everything right. She hoped it would be soon because she was really beginning to tire of the Hucklebuck.


The Hucklebuck is an actual song sung by Chubby Checkers. I had no idea there was such a thing until I erroneously believed I'd made the word up. I looked it up on the internet (cause I like to do that), and discovered there is not only such a word, but a song to go with it!
http://www.chubbychecker.com