Writing Exorcise pt2

The echo of car doors slamming and engines starting reassured the man that life in this mall parking structure continued even when no being was in sight. A slight flicker glossed over the rows of cars as he looked over and to the side of the autos to catch a glimpse of his own. He pressed the button on his car alarm fob to echo-locate the elusive vehicle and after the third try a chirp sounded down an unfamiliar end of the structure. With trepidation he turned and shuffled towards the direction of the sound that answered his every button press. He caught an orange flash in a corner that was seemingly shadowed in black grease masking any recognizable forms. Within a stones through of the the lights the man knew something was wrong - he knew that his car was not as it was when he left it. The car had been relocated and, even more perplexing, the car did not resemble the size and shape that distinguished it as an automobile. He looked around for someone to validate what he was witnessing or perhaps he scanned the area to see if someone was laughing at him. This was some kind of sick joke - it was the only thing it could be. At arms length and in the light of the flashing brake lights, the man could see that his car had been reduced down to parts that filled a box of some kind - perhaps it was a plastic container. The bok was no bigger than a filing cabinet or a crate, depending on one's occupational familiarity. But the real mystery weighed heavier with every press of the alarm fob - why and how was it that the lights still worked? Was this some kind of trap? No, this could only be some kind of sick joke.