Nathan grinned wickedly and said in a solemn tone, Oh, it’s haunted.
Wha..aa.t? Diane’s voice had the unmistakable tone of fear.
Yes, the driver was killed instantly in an accident last Summer. Nobody moved it from this spot. So, the creeper, which houses his soul, took over the truck. Bit by bit. Inch by inch.
Diane’s lower lip quivered in trepidation.
Nathan was about to burst into laughter at his kid sister, when the truck lunged forward.
Screaming, they took to their heels.
From inside the truck, crochety Joe grinned, as he watched them run. Every single time.
Word count: 100
Written for the Friday Fictioneers- Click here to read the prompt and here to read the other entries in the link-up.
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