For all the hair-raising sermons of eerie visitations given, I am also usually prompted to serve one of my own. This often happens when I have failed to blabber about the type of whacked-out shit our home and lifestyle might project to those in the know. My stand-by tale might not be all that frightening or stupendous as I fear some people expect from such things, but it is true and it did happen...
"HEY YOU FUCKIN' DEAD PEOPLE. HEY! WAKE THA' FUCKUP & SAY SOMESHIT," as was recorded on the 'seance' cassette tape that night. "Gimme' a light my man- maybe this'll work em' up! HEY YOU GHOSTS-GET-HIGH-OR-DIE."
After several rounds of such banter and belligerence a deep quiet-spell fell over the group. The night seemed to grow heavy with the wet summer heat like a swollen rag of sweat on a fat-boy's brow and a genuine sense of discomfort crept into the hearts of the cult. A set of headlights came jangling down the lane in the distance towards the cemetery gate and the stillness increased. The vehicle, an old Chevy or some such creep-wagon, slowed and stalled to an alarming crawl as it passed the fence that stood between the Dark Circle and the street.
"Let's fucking go," someone muttered and all followed in hushed agreement. Hunched low and dark beneath the starlight, car-doors opened and shut with calculated stealth. The ignition turned over and seat-belts clicked into place as the Mystery Car came to a complete stop in the middle of the road just past the graveyard exit. Headlights on and engine roaring, the Dark Circle shredded gravel down the lane as the Chevy flipped into reverse, its tail-lights laughing like blind eyes of white against blood-red lids.
"Fuckin'...Go man! DRIVE!"
The encroaching steel of the rust-bucket tore ass to cut off any escape and the Dark Circle spilled out onto the farm-road with a squeal and an inch to spare between the two cars. A collective sigh of relief came forth from the front seats just as the acolytes, buckled up in back, began to scream at the top of their lungs.
"What the hell guys- OHSHIT."
The Mystery Car gave chase at top-speed...bumper to bumper...in reverse. There was something so completely fucked about an apparently violent 3 a.m. pursuit (in fucking reverse) down a winding back-woods road that it took the Dark Circle a quick-minute to register the fact that there didn't appear to be anyone actually driving the Chevy. Where should have been a face turned and grinning with menace out the back window there was instead a vacant blackness within.
"FUUUUUUUUU-"
Just as exploding heads began to spiral like pinwheels on necks at the 'what-the-fuck-is-going-on' of it all, the Chevy pulled a ridiculous U-turn onto the soft shoulder of the street. The maneuver looked like something straight out of a goddamn Hong Kong heist flick with Jackie Chan. And...Like all ghost-stories, that was it. The Mystery Car sat there, headlights watching, as the Dark Circle hurtled off towards dawn with fear in their hearts and heads full of wonder at the beauty of existence. Strange, strange beauty...
-From Hel
