Let me get one thing straight. This is no fan fiction, this is what happened to me, and my friend. I call this "Christine: Resurrection" Fitting, enough? Anyway, I just want to say, that this is about Christine, the '58 Plymouth Fury, from the movie. For fucks sake, it killed my best friend, Dave.

One: How We Found Christine.

I was driving past an old building, y'know, a junk yard. There were cars, here and there. None of them were as bad as the one Dave saw right away. It had been compressed to a goddamn cube! "Kyle! Pull over, now!" He yelled at me, so, of course, I pulled to the side. To this day, I still wish I hadn't. He asked me if I still had the trailer, and asked if he could put the cube of a car in it. "Dave, why do you want that old rust-bucket?" I asked him, but I was quickly shut up when he gently, yes, GENTLY, put the car in the trailer. We drove off, to Darnell's Do It Yourself Garage. There was a worn out automatic door, that read 'Honk For Entry'. So, of course, I honked. It was the strangest thing, the garage opened but there was nobody inside to open it.
I pulled in, only to see Dave already lugging it to the corner. He told me to leave, and well, I did. I didn't know what else to do, so, I just drove. I called him the next morning, and he said something that scared the shit out of me. "Kyle..you're not going to believe this..the car..IT'S BACK TO NORMAL!" I coughed on my own air when I heard those words. I figured he'd just payed someone extra, so, I let it go. "What do you mean, 'It's back to normal' Dave?" I asked, nervously. "What I mean is, it's fit to go on the road. I call her Christine." He said, on the other line, happily. "Dave, are you sure you want to do this-" I asked, he'd hung up. He never hung up on me before, so, this scared me. I drove to the garage, only to find that Dave and his car weren't there. I smiled a bit. "Take it for a test drive did you, Dave? Good on you." I said before turning around. Dave was just pulling out of the garage. That was impossible. He didn't notice my car, however. He just kept driving. I noticed something, I'm sure I was hallucinating. His hands weren't on the wheel, and the car was fucking steering.
I called Dave about 3 hours later, just to make sure he was alright. He answered the phone, and here's what he said. "She's amazing, Kyle. Thank you." He said. I didn't sell him the fuckin' thing, hell, nobody did. What was going on? Then, I woke up. It was only 3:24 in the morning, but it didn't feel like a dream. I called Dave, and asked if he'd gotten a car, and if he'd named it Christine. He asked me what the hell I was talking about, that he hadn't even fixed it yet. The worst of all, he called me a shitter. I slammed the phone back onto my bedside table. Dave was my friend...right? I remembered something..my brother.. Arnie. His real name was Arnold Cunningham. He'd had a car named Christine, he'd died in it. He apparently loved that thing. He even went as far to say "It loves me. No, She loves me." I called Dave again, he picked up. He wasn't to keen on hearing my voice, so he quickly hung up. I went back to sleep.
I quickly fell asleep, faster than last time. I don't know if I was dreaming, or not. But I swear, I was driving her. Something was wrong. I was driving right behind Dave. It was almost like I was chasing him, only, I was in the car, and he was running. I couldn't wake up. When I pressed on the brake, I heard something. No, I heard and saw something. Eyes. Green, eyes. It was like it was staring at me. I slammed on the brake, and it screeched. That's when I noticed, Dave was dead. The last thing that happened in that dream-no, Nightmare. I was slamming my head on the steering wheel. I woke up, I was laying on the floor. I cried, no, I fucking sobbed. I was scared, of a car, why the hell was I scared of a god damn car?! It was just a car...Kyle. "Kyle? Kyle wake up! Oh my god! YOU'RE BLEEDING! CALL 911!" I opened my eyes, sure enough, I was bleeding. Wait. Where was I? Am I still dreaming? Why do I feel so sick?
Then, I jolted awake. This time I really was awake. I called Dave, asked if everything was alright. "What are you talking about, Kyle? You never called me, last night. If you did, I wouldn't know. She hid my phone." He said. "Who, Dave?" I asked. "My mother, of course!" He explained. I sighed in relief, everything was fine. It was all just a dream, at least, I hoped so, anyway. "Can I come over, Dave? I want you to drive me around in your new car." I said, why was I asking? "Uh, sure?" He said. I drove over to his house, and he was waiting. There she was, it was there. "You really fixed it-" I was interrupted. "It's She, Kyle. She. I fixed her up." I smiled, and nodded. I didn't want to anger him. I couldn't help but feel I was losing him, I was losing my own god damn friend. Ever since he bought that car. "You're obsessed, Dave. It's just a car." I blurted. His face was red with anger, and Christine stalled. "Get out." He told me, I was shocked. "YOU'RE GOING TO CHOOSE A FUCKING RUST-BUCKET OVER YOUR OWN FRIEND?" I was heart-broken. Then, next thing I knew, I slammed the door. No, I kicked it shut. The force of the kick had left a dent in Christine. "You fucking shitter, Kyle. You do not realize what you've done, do you? Goodbye, Kyle." With that, he drove off. I keeled over, hugging the hot pavement. I'd just lost my best friend, to a car. I wasn't going to tell anyone. I couldn't. I screamed at the top of my lungs, as loud as I could.
Dave just kept driving, as if he didn't care. I tried calling him, he didn't answer. I drove to his house the next day, and his father answered the door. "Hey, John, was it?" I asked. My face still pale. "Kyle? Gods sake, what did Dave do this time?" John asked. "Do you mind if I come in?" I asked. I was shaking, and I didn't even know it. I told him about the fight, and John went silent. "There's something you need to know, Kyle. You can't tell David, you can't." I nodded. "The owner of the car, the person who owned it before Dave, died in it. It's claimed the damn thing was trying to kill his girlfriend, Leigh. He flew threw the windshield, impaled by the broken glass. Only, instead of saying goodbye to his girlfriend, he caressed Christine, just before he died. When he finally did die, the car turned off. That should have been impossible, Arnold was dead. Kyle, I don't expect you to believe me, I was there. It had turned itself back on, and ran over Leigh." John broke down. So did I, I knew Leigh. "S-So, that's how she went." John told me something else, that he believed she was remote controlled. "Maybe." I told him in reply. I left the house, and got back in my car. I drove back to Darnell's Do It Yourself Garage.