Lola and the Menacing Machine

Reflections Of Fears

The early morning sun cast a faint, golden light over the empty school parking lot, long shadows stretching across the ground as if guarding the secrets that lurked there. The air was crisp, slightly chilled, hinting at autumn’s touch. Hidden from view by a row of cars, two high-school students crept slowly toward a sleek, black car parked near the corner. It was a BMW—the newest addition to Maisey’s life. She had flaunted it online, and everyone had seen it. But envy can drive people to do strange things.

The first figure, slim and wiry, had a quick, jittery demeanor. His eyes, a shade too dark for the pale tone of his face, darted around nervously as he gripped the spray can. His brown hair, messy and sticking out from under a gray beanie, fell over his eyes as he kept himself low, creeping towards the car’s far side. The second person, broader in stature and shorter, stood watch a few paces away, arms crossed over his hoodie-covered chest, his full, round face flushed with the anxiety of their mission. He shuffled his feet every few seconds, a reminder to anyone nearby that he didn’t want to be out there long.

The slimmer one raised the spray can, a wicked grin on his face as he began to paint a messy line along the car's sleek, dark frame. The sound of the spray hissing broke the silence, echoing faintly in the stillness. Minutes ticked by, and tension built in the thicker boy’s chest. Thirty minutes had already passed, and he was getting more anxious, casting nervous glances back at the school building.

He swallowed hard and whispered, "Hurry up, man, let’s get out of here," his voice a low hiss in the quiet lot. But there was no response. The hissing sound of the spray had stopped, leaving only silence, as thick and heavy as the fog that sometimes rolled in at this hour.

Confused, he turned, feeling a chill prickle his skin, and took a cautious step toward the car. The creeping dread sank further into his bones as he saw… nothing. His friend had disappeared. His palms dampened with sweat, his breath quickening as he edged closer, desperately scanning the area.

Finally, his eyes landed on the passenger seat, where something dark and ominous stirred within. It took him a moment to make sense of it, but then he realized with a jolt—the upholstery was…moving. His friend’s body was trapped within the car’s interior, his face twisted in horror, his limbs caught and pulled into the very seats themselves, as though the car had swallowed him whole.

A pulse of terror surged through him, his instincts screaming to flee, but he was frozen, transfixed by the horror unfolding before him. In a moment of sheer panic, he glanced up, searching wildly for the source of this nightmare, and his eyes landed on the side mirror.

It was a strange sight: in the mirror, he saw himself staring back, but with an empty, vacant look, as though he were merely a reflection, hollow and lifeless. And behind him, just barely visible, something seemed to be watching, a silent force lurking beneath the glassy surface, waiting.

The sense of being watched bore down on him until he couldn’t take it any longer. With a strangled scream, he staggered back, stumbling over his own feet. He bolted, making a desperate leap over the grassy decorations lining the lot. Despite his bulky frame, he moved with a speed born of fear, his heavy footsteps pounding as he raced away, heart hammering against his ribs.

From inside the building, a few students looked up at the sound of his scream. They exchanged glances, puzzled, but when they saw no sign of trouble, they returned to their conversations, dismissing it as just another morning at school.

Outside, the BMW sat alone, gleaming in the sunlight, the remnants of red spray paint on its surface barely visible under the cold light.

Maisey lingered for a moment in the school parking lot, ensuring her friends got a good look at her new car before she set off to pick up her little sister. With a touch of pride, she finally pulled away, her mind still basking in the admiring glances she had received.

At Lola’s school, Maisey watched as her younger sister trotted up, her cheeks flushed from play. As Lola climbed into her personal car seat, her eyes widened, catching sight of something near her seat.

"Look, Maisey," she said, holding up her small hand. "Someone's finger!"

Maisey's nose wrinkled in mild disgust. She assumed it was a prank, maybe a fake finger from one of Lola’s friends. Reaching into the back, she dabbed some water onto Lola's hands, watching the faint stain drip off before Lola let go of the "finger."

"Gross, Lola," Maisey said, shaking her head as she closed the door.

But as Maisey started driving, Lola sat quietly, eyeing her dress. A dark spot had smeared across the fabric, looking odd and out of place. She brushed her hand over it absentmindedly, staring back at the car with a strange sense of unease. That evening, as they returned home, Lola felt the unmistakable prickle of being watched. Her gaze often drifted toward the car, an uneasiness settling in her chest.

Her fascination grew, an obsession with catching details in the car’s reflection, her small face now always watchful. She began to wonder if her imagination was playing tricks—or if something hidden lurked within the vehicle’s shadows.