It was the end of a great week. The graduation cap and gown in my high-school colors hung in my parent's closet, but the tassel from that day hung on the rear view mirror of my boyfriend's truck, next to his, from last year. We had plans to go up to the mountains next weekend for; well, for some alone time. I took my shower, and sat in the chair, in front of my desk, I had done my homework at for the past six years; to let my long hair dry. I pulled out a small jar of fingernail polish, and pulled my foot into the chair with me, and began painting my toenails this shade of pearlescent midnight blue that looked great, but I didn't want to put it on my fingers.

I set the nail polish back in its little cubby hole, checked to see if my hair was dry; when I found that it was, I fell into bed. I heard my mom yell to have a good night; my plopping into the bed having been heard through the entire house. I answered back and wished dad a good night as well, and closed my eyes for a blissful sleep.

It was not a blissful sleep. It was probably the farthest from a blissful sleep I had had in years. It felt like my body was ripped apart, torn to shreds, and I was thrown out of whatever had done it. well, I guess its not far from the truth, all things considered. I can't move, I can't see except for eight fixed views. almost like I can only see through cameras. Two of the views only let me see a junkyard surrounding me. Two more look like what I would think of if I thought of cameras mounted to mirrors, one showed the dusty, torn, worn out interior of a car, facing forward. it looked like it was mounted where a dome light would be, another looked like what a rear-view mirror would see, looking rearward through a broken back window, one faced an instrument cluster, and the last one felt like it was mounted to the center of a dash, facing forward, but it was hard to see through the spiderweb of glass shards.

My concerns began growing when I saw people, two women, approaching, but I couldn't move, or talk. the rusted out, twisted, mangled, hull of a body of whatever this car was didn't have any life left in it, and apparently I couldn't do anything but watch what was going on around me.

"Are you sure it was this car?" the older woman said as she approached in a way I could see her.

"Yes, Maggie, this is the car. can you feel it now, that we are closer?" the younger woman seemed apprehensive about their conversation.

"Alright, tow it up to the garage, and keep a close eye on it for the next week. The magic flowing in this junkyard can be unpredictable. If the car really did become an artifice, or worse a magic-life, we will need to register it, and protect it for a while." Maggie said.

"This is the first time, since you became the owner of this place, isn't it?" the other one asked.

"Yeah, if it can figure out how to hold onto the magic flowing through it, it will live long enough. but there isn't a way for us to teach it. I can feel a little bit of a flow through it, but no way to know if it will survive the week. Move it up to the area around the garage, for now, and keep an eye on it, Anne."

"Maggie, its watching us." Anne says. Pointing at one of the cameras.

"Good, lets hope it can hear us, and can tell we are trying to help it. the last thing we need is a magic-life to get pissed at us because it didn't realize we were trying to help."

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I sigh, and I hear a horn honk. I felt the honk in my throat, I wondered if it was the car or me, but feared it was both.

"At least we know it understands us. I will go get the tow-truck." Anne said, and took off running back the way they came.

The other woman approached me, and leaned down and looked into a camera that appeared to show the left side of the car.

"Listen closely. you are probably scared, unsure of whats going on, and believe you don't belong where you are. This is what we know about Magical life-forms: most of the time, they are unwilling souls that are ripped from their home dimensions, and transported here. Their souls usually retain their memories, names, places, but, they are no longer the beings they once were. I suspect you understand everything I am saying, if you want to live longer than a week, you will need to figure out how to accumulate the energy we call mana. Your current body is of an old car that was in a crash 30 years ago. It rolled several times, by the look of it. You are going to need to use that accumulated energy, mana, to keep yourself going. right now, we know there is a soul in this car, only because Anne is sensitive to magic, and she felt you greedily sucking it in, but not doing anything with it. Once you start using it to keep yourself alive, we can help you. But, neither of us can do anything for you until then."

I thought the woman's was crazy, until I felt the woman's hand on my left shoulder, but saw the hand on the windowsill of the driver's door. I was the car. This ugly, rusted out, junker, was my body. I felt the panic begin to set in, and I felt as though Maggie might realize what was going on, as she began to comfort me, rubbing her hand back and forth on the mangled window sill.

After a few minutes I calmed down, and decided to try and figure out what this mana thing was that she mentioned. Almost intuitively, I felt something shift in my body, and I felt like I had just eaten breakfast.

"Well that was fast," Maggie said, "you just confirmed yourself to be a Magic-life, and not a wild artifice. I am Maggie Tilling, I own this place. You need to keep doing what you are doing, and please keep yourself calm. The next few weeks won't be easy for you, or for me. I would suggest you figure out how to use that power to give yourself a rear-axle. you are missing a lot of parts, and having an axle, and a pair of wheels, even if they are horrible, and crude, are much better than trying to drag you up to the place I told Anne to move you. I will get your name once we figure out how to communicate with you. But for now, I will just call you Foxy."

as soon as I think about a rear axle, like she suggested, a list started fluttering though the camera that looked like a dome-light view. I realized it was a parts list, as well as a numerical cost for each one. I didn't know how I would pay for it, so I just selected a set of bushings. I felt my stomach drop a little bit, but decided to continue adding the parts on the list. just as I got the wheels on, the tow-truck appeared, and hooked onto the front of the car.

"Its quick on the uptake." Anne said as she approached. "I am going to need to make sure it doesn't try to put anything up here while I tow it back." I try to cough twice, and the horn blasts instead. "I am going to take that as you understanding." she finished.

"I am going to call it Foxy, until we know its name. thanks for telling me it was back here, Anne." she started walking away. "I need to call a magister out, and have it verified. Make sure I can walk all the way around it when you get it up there." Maggie says to Anne.

"I got it. it won't like the move, but I will be as easy as I can." Anne seemed to be honest. She climbed into the truck, and started moving. I felt the axle move under me, and it was still unpleasant, even though I knew she was driving easy. It felt like someone was taking rough-grit sandpaper and sanding my belly with it, I could only figure it was the tall grass and brush I was being pulled out of, and the fact there wasn't any rubber components on the axle or wheels, so all of that was grinding against each other. A set of blocks was put under the axle, and the front-end, and I was lifted to a height that I couldn't drive off, even if I managed to get tires on.

"lets get back to it." I said as I went back to replacing parts that were no longer there. I felt the horn blast a few times, and Anne patted my hood, but I felt it on the top of my head. It was an odd sensation.