The Black Cadillac 

Jennifer always wondered what headlights looked like up closely. All she could imagine was some kind of mirage, a blur of consciousness before death. However, it was the last thing they saw in their lifetime: headlights.

Jennifer was very peculiar about the lives she took. There was a happy postman, a serious truck driver, a man whose beard was longer on the right side, an exotic dancer with a red scarf, maybe a dog, and Jennifer would always joke about the opossum. It was hairy and weird looking, like something out of a horror novel.

Murder without justice, is a mystery for time and on the outskirts of Highway 13, there was a fifty-mile stretch that bewildered in mystery. The only stirs of human life were about 23 miles down the highway. There was an old diner/gas station and a little motel. A few blocks up the road from the two buildings was another little gas station. One sign light up green; the other blue. That stretch later became a memorial for the lost victims.  

Jennifer was married to a rich, stuck-up bastard, so she says. He would go out of town for weeks at a time, on business, and would leave Jennifer his lovely 1964 Black Cadillac. Jennifer’s husband had a personal mechanic that worked on his cars. Jennifer would just drive to him, slip him a few hundred dollars not to say anything, and he would fix the car. Lanston, the wizard of manual labor, never thought anything of it. Its not like she brought back the car too beat up. Jennifer would usually float into the shop every 3-4 weeks.

But now, it was time. There was nothing like the adrenaline rush of driving fast and wild. Jennifer would always joke about this little saying she had: “drive fast, take chances.” Plus, it was a huge amount of fun driving 100 miles per hour on a 50 mile stretch that never turned. Jennifer would blast specifically hard rock music like Iron Maiden or Kiss with the windows down. Of course, when she arrived at the spot, she would roll her windows up and turn the music down.

As she approached the diner and motel, she slowed down the car and became more aware of the situation. This stretch is where she would attack! Her driving became erratic, and her adrenaline was surging. Then she saw it, a pigment of her imagination: the perfect target. She hammered the gas, swerved to the right and onto the dirt side road from the two-lane highway. THUMP!

Jennifer’s head rested on the front bumper of the Cadillac. The rest of her body lay limp and stretched out, in between a light pole. And her eyes, well they were staring straight into the headlights.

***

Dr. Hoppalious crossed his legs. He had a clipboard with some information on one of his patients, Denver Susan Smith. He shuffled through the notes, reading only the things that he wanted to.

“I’ve always wanted to be Jennifer. Hehe. The way her blonde hair would flow in the wind, just to be destroyed by her own diligence.” Susan said to Dr. Hoppalious. “You know this institution cannot hold me forever. You know, I am Jennifer. You must believe me doctor.”

“I see you’ve made no progress, Denver. Jennifer seems to be another imaginary character you’ve created. First it was Harry the truckdriver, then Steve the postman. Wasn’t there another woman too, um, Wanda… the dancer?”

Dr. Hoppalious filled a shot into the needles’ container waiting for a response.

“Oh yes, I remember all the tips I used to get! Wanda always had a special part in my life. It was the one person who helped me feel my power over men. Maybe, she can steer you in the right direction… Dr. Humpalious” Denver was sitting on an exam bed, giving him very seductive looks. Denvers’ eyes went kinky, and body loose.  

“How about we try something different this time? There’s a new experimental drug that’s supposed to make all my problems go away. Shall we try it, Denver?” Dr. Hoppalious asked, still sitting on the chair.

“Oh… no Doc… you see-”

“-That’s enough Denver, trust me… it helps.” Dr. Hoppalious got up from his seat, straighten his white lab coat, and walked towards Denver.

“Just continue to relax and take deep breaths. You will do great.” He spoke with a smile, and his voice was very friendly.

The last thing Denver remembered were the office lights fading away, then they got brighter and brighter. After about five minutes, all she could see was a representation of what appeared to be headlights.