The Haunted Journey of Max's Vintage Sedan

Max and his buddies decided to travel in his old, rusted automobile one misty night in a tiny, peaceful town. Generation after generation of Max's family has owned a vintage 1960s sedan. Though its once-glorious façade was now tarnished by rust and peeling paint, the pals were drawn to it still.

Driving along a lonely road, the night was thick with mist; the headlights sliced through the fog like dull blades. Laughing and joking, the radio tuned to an old rock song flickering over the historic speakers. But the automobile started to behave oddly when they got to a particularly isolated section of road.

From the passenger side, Jenna murmured, "Max, something's wrong with the steering," her voice somewhat tense.

Max sc wrinkled and tightened his hold on the driving wheel. It seemed nearly divorced from the automobile, rather loose. When he attempted to crank the wheel, it spun loose in his hands. He lost control of the automobile, and panic shot through him as the awareness dawned.

"Friends, hang on!" Max yelled, but before anybody could reply the automobile shook fiercely and shot off the ground.

As the automobile shot upward, defying all logic and reason, the buddies yelled. They were surrounded in a terrible, unnatural stillness as the road below vanished into the cloud. The vehicle shot higher and higher, Max's hands uselessly turning the steering wheel.

"What's going on?" From the rear seat, Tom shouted, his face white with panic.

I'm not sure! This cannot be feasible! Max yelled back with shaky voice.

The earth now a distant memory as the vehicle kept rising. The fog increased and the air became cooler. The radio crackled, then fell quiet, leaving only the whistling wind and their ragged breathing.

The automobile came suddenly to cease rising and hung in mid-air. Uncertain of what to do next, the pals exchanged terrified looks. The flickering inside lights created ghostly shadows on their faces. Then, without unexpectedly, the automobile started to advance as if under the direction of some unseen power.

Now they were soaring above a deep woodland, the trees hardly seen through the heavy mist. The pals clutched to their seats as the automobile accelerated; their anxiety grew with every second. A weird, unearthly light emerged in the distance as they descended farther into the jungle.

Look!" Jenna pointed, her voice wavering. "What's that?"

As they got closer, the light became more brilliant and a clearing in the jungle came to show. Tucked in the middle of the clearing was an old stone shrine encircled by towering, gnarled trees. The automobile dropped gently and softly thudmed the ground next to the altar.

Too afraid to move, the pals sat in startled quiet. The steering wheel abruptly reattached itself, but Max's hands were shaking too violently to touch it.

"What should we do now?" Tom murmured, his eyes wide with terror.

Max replied, his voice almost above a whisper, "We need to get out of here." "But I'm not clear about how."

The automobile doors moaned open on their own as if in reaction. The buddies paused then gently got out of the automobile. There was an uncanny cold in the air, and the shining altar appeared to pulse with life of its own.

Driven by an unseen force, Jenna went toward the altar. The others trailed in unable to resist. They observed unusual designs etched on the old stone as they approached it, symbols that appeared to writhe and change before their eyes.

"Do you consider that?" Jenna inquired, her voice remote, like if in a daze.

The others nodded, terror washing over them. A deep, guttural chant permeated the air as the symbols on the altar radiated more brilliantly. Though their feet were anchored to the earth, the pals struggled to distance themselves.

The companions were surrounded in glory as a dazzling light burst from the altar suddenly. Screaming, their voices blending with the chant, the light engulfed them. The air smelled like burning flesh, and their shouts became to gurgles then quiet.

The area was deserted as the light sank away at last. The altar remained still and chilly; the automobile vanished. The fog grew, burying the mysteries of the clearing.

The pals vanished from the little village never seen again. Whipped among the residents, their disappearance became another tale, whispered caution to others to avoid the cursed automobile flying into the darkness and the barren road.