A 1998 powder blue ford taurus isn’t anyone’s choice for a vehicle, but it was what i ended up choosing at the lot. It wasn’t a bad car; not too a heap of miles, lately substituted tires, and it was cheap. My only real complaint is that the former possessor had gravely gone overboard with air fresheners; the complete interior reeked of vanilla and pine. The trader, real nice guy, said he was cutting me a deal. Told me that they were having disturb moving this one off the lot, explained that no one gave am impression be fascinated. I guess i’m less picky than average, because the car looked fine to me, so a check and a handshake later i was driving home. That’s when the strangeness started.
I hadn’t noticed it for the duration of the complimentary test drive i had been given, but there was a lump in the padding of the seat, right in the small of my back. It wasn’t enough to make driving uncomfortable, so i assumed the foam was coming loose below the fabric and let it go. The car was a decade old, after all. For roughly two weeks i repelled the car like that, to and from work, picking up groceries and stuff like that. The lump was pushed to the back of my mind, and i had gorgeous much gotten employed to it. Then it moved.
At first i thought i was imagining things; foam padding doesn’t squirm around, obviously, and it had just been the slightest sentiment on my back that set me off. But no, as i retained driving it became clear that the seat had shifted, it definitely felt dissimilar versus my spine. At this point i thought perchance this is what was defective initially with the seat; that perchance the loose foam had shifted when i first got the car. Once i got home, i decided, i would closely question or examine it in more detail.
By the time i got into my driveway the lump was downright irritating, so i hopped out of my seat and started to probe the fabric with my fingers. Whatsoever was in there, i quickly noticed, it wasn’t foam padding. The consistency was thicker than foam, closely gelatinous, and there was hard pieces inside it that felt closely like stone. I couldn’t make it out at the time, but the shape of the thing was intimate, too. Confirming my suspicions, i in addition noted for the first time a long seam in the seat that an individual had stitched up. The former possessor must have stuck something in there. I hopped back in to take the car to the trader and complain. This is the sort of thing a salesman should tell you, you acknowledge? maybe they just didn’t acknowledge it; i hadn’t seen it at first, either.
I was about halfway to the dealership when the thing in the seat started out writhing around. Not a shift like before, but actively crawling below the fabric. Whether or not you can imagine the sentiment of something worming its way all over your lower back, you can in all likelihood replicate my reaction. The number on the speedometer doubled.
I closely ruined those lately substituted tires swerving into the dealership parking lot. It didn’t take long to find the man who had sold me the car, and even less time to grab him by the shirt sleeve and stammer out what had took place. He was astonished by my story but strangely receptive (more than i would be whether or not a heap of punk teenager started rambling about squirming car seats), and came back with me to the car, pulling out a pocket utility knife as we walked. As we cut the fabric of the seat open, the stench that spewed out closely in a literal sense knocked us back out of the car, but what we smelled didn’t make either of our stomachs turn closely as bad as what we saw.
Inside the seat, below the fabric, we found a half-rotten human hand.