 Good evening friends of the creaking door. This is your host inviting you into the inner sanctum. Come in, come on in. Oh, come on, we love companies. Simply can't do enough to them. We've got lots of games custom designed for our guests. They are simply slayer. The favorites called a tisket, a casket. But the game we play best is called revival. Oh, it's wonderful. You pass out and we try to revive you. If we don't, you don't. For our eerie spell, the hitchhiking corpse. Climb up on the driver's seat. Sit close to the driver. Sean O'Hara, the bewitched man with the deep-set eyes. Hear what he has to tell about the beautiful corpse of Maida County. The girl who lost her head over him. Eileen, the last time I saw her she was standing where she always waits for me. The rain on the little white bridge where the road takes a bend around Moon Hollow. I could hear her call for me to stop her. I wasn't going to stop for her, not anymore. My mind was made up to that. The lightning flash burned over her like a mission lighted candles. And she was standing there where she always waited for me. Without her head, Eileen had lost her head. Am I right in my mind now, I'm wondering? These things I know, these things that I saw. Was it a dream? The man's imagination gets tipsy when he drives a great silver van 400 miles in the loneliness of the night. Eileen, the first time I saw her she was standing where she stood the last time on the little white bridge near Moon Hollow. Climb in, miss. Sit deep in your seat with your head low. It's a black mark on the book for me if the company inspectors see you riding in the cab. I'll be docked. Only you can see me, only you can see me, son. Only I can see you're calling me by name. No, I'm making up a name for you. But it is my name, Sean, Sean O'Hara. It's an uncanny bit of making up you just did, miss. Try, Sean. If you try, you too can do an uncanny bit of making up. With your hair like it is, and your face, just one name suits only one name. And my name? Eileen. I am Eileen. And just where are you riding to? To Nader County. But Sunday, not tonight. Nader County is a good 80 mile ride from Moon Hollow. Is it some day I heard you say? Yes, some day I'll be riding to Nader County. And it will be you who will take me there. Well, just little to that, I always pass through, mate. I could sign my route. My people came from up there. It's a big house, we once had. A great big house. Without windows. Without windows, you say? There was a great hall. And a great long table. With my people sitting round it. The living and the dead. The living and the... A house without windows, and now it's the living and the dead. You're a pretty one. But you're as bad as a loon. Am I really a pretty one too, you shan? Sure. Pretty hair, eyes to light up a man's dream. Dirty little hands. The two of them fit into one of mine. The face. A face, shan. No, the face I cannot trace. Why not? With all the war paint on it. If I didn't bite my tongue, I might say that what I see smeared over your cheeks is... is blood. Don't bite your tongue, shan. You're getting out. Trust Shana Harrow to pick up a jubilant farm girl who smears her face with chicken blood. Good night to you. Good night, shan. I'll be waiting again tomorrow night at Moon Rallo. I'll be... I watched her go. Sailing off on the mist. As high as my eyes could go, I could see her. Riding into the sky like... like a night witch. And then blowing into the smoke of the moon. Her head to no, Irene. I dreamed her up in my fat head. A man's imagination gets tipsy when he drives a great silver van in the loneliness of the night. I pulled into the yard behind old Morgan's diner to sleep the night from two to six curl up in my cab like I always did. I'm a hearty man and a steady sleeper not given to dreaming. But this night, bad luck to me, I dreamed. She was leaning over me. To the moon in her eyes. And now the blood was wet on her cheeks and running down in big red beads to splash my shirt. The old mill house in Medok. The old mill house in Medok where the water flows. The old mill house in Medok where the water... You must see... Irene. Irene. I have enough to wake the day. The dreamin' man doesn't turn on the radio. What? It's me, Morgan. I guess you've had all the music you need to wake you up. Was you the one who turned my radio on? Me it was. Were you thinkin' the radio turned itself on? I... I had a dream about a girl. A nightmare's more like what you had. From the looks of you, you were thrashin' about in that seat and beatin' yourself on the face with your fists. Beatin' myself? Why is that? You're the blood all over your shirt. Blood? Stop lookin' bewitched, O'Hara, and look in your truck mirror to your nose. You gave yourself a nosebleed in your sleep and that, my boy, was an old dream. How are late for unloadin' in the Cloverville depot? O'Hara. Uh, yeah, Rick. Come over to the van a minute. Well, the loaders can't get in there full. Oh, you're acting funny. We've got everything off the inventory calls for. But there are three other items. I threw a canvas cover over them before the boys got a look at them. Did you look into your van? What... what's under the canvas cover, Rick? Coffins, O'Hara. Three-year-old pinewood coffins. You want to tell me something? What? To tell you? Oh, sure. I almost forgot about those coffins. It's a side job, so I'm yokel on to take her down by Moon Hollowa and to drop them off somewhere. Save them truck and charges that way and make myself $20 side money. Quit lyin' to me, O'Hara. And to yourself. Oh, lyin' is safe, but it's a fact, Rick. Positively a fact that I'm givin' you half of the $20 for coverin' me. Wasn't one to pass up $20 for truckin' three empty coffins. The coffins aren't empty, O'Hara. And you never took a job from any local undertaker, either. You... you seem to know a lot about something. I know Route 266. I was born and raised here. What is there to know? For one thing, the red-headed witch of Moon Hollowa, maybe. You might be truckin' the dead for her. Ilyin? Or any name you give her. She was Katie to a trucker named Conway who had you run once. To hear Conway tell it, Katie or Ilyin was always trying to get him to take her dead out of Moon Hollowa to somewhere else. Tomato curry to the old millhouse. Or somewhere. Anyhow, that's how the story usually goes. But what she's really out to do is drive you crazy. How do you know there is such a girl? Those pine boxes in there. I saw them on Conway's truck once, like they're on yours now. Conway dumped them right back in Moon Hollowa. Take my advice. From now on, pass the red-headed up. Jam your accelerator to the floorboard and go past her at 80. I don't know. Well, I'll do. What I did, battle up to me on the trip back, was look for the waterfalls and the old millhouse. But I came to the Mesa County line. Was there an old millhouse where the waterfalls I was wandering? Or was I a man looking hard to lose his mind? I brought one of the caskets to the ground. It wasn't empty, but there wasn't much weight toward either. I opened it. A skeleton of someone dead more years than the mind can imagine. There was a waterfall in the deep woods. The music of water. My lean's voice splashing in it. House down below the rocks. A stone house without windows like Eileen had seen. I pulled an old rusted bolt and opened the door to one great room and a table that went from wall to wall. It was old. The flying dust could blind a man, so he'd only see what his tipsy imagination would want him to see. I saw Eileen. Eileen standing before me with her arms out. I could thin shadow my eyes could see through to the wall. Go bring the casket's son. Go bring the dead home. Here's something terribly new in Thumbing a Ride. A witch hiker. And it eats witch too on the old Boy Meets Girl formula. This one's Boy Meets Girl. Eileen. Now there's a bunny as dead said on getting her head. And if she keeps up the pace, she'll have a harrow shitting mile now. Let's get back beside our witch truck there. A man's imagination gets tipsy when he drives a great silver van in the loneliness of the night. But there was an old millhouse where the water falls as Eileen has said. It was there I left three caskets of the old dead. Passing Moon Hollow on the way back, I stopped in at Morgan's diner for some warm and coffee. It was just old Morgan putting his profits into the scream and jukebox. Oh, it's you. Nobody else. I've been waiting all night for you to come. I stopped for a time in my duck. Well, I just take it the way you look. Have I slipped out on you for a meal? No. I don't understand the looks of you. The shoebox. Oh, you see. Your name's written on it. Sean O'Hara. And left by home. The devil's own daughter. Her face was enough to send a man hiding in his car. Her face so smooth with blood, was it? I've seen her too. We are all acquaintances by now. When I left Morgan's prying eyes, I opened the shoebox. It held a small white envelope. An old rusted tin can. I opened the envelope. Two tickets there were. To a costume party in the moon hollow firehouse for the next night. And the tin can. Full of money. A shower and a Vindian panties and buffalo nickels. Toins with a grit and tarnished of years on them. Like some miser had saved them in a secret nook of the kitchen. That was too much for a tired working man to puzzle out. My poor head would have none. To hold back that night. It was time enough for puzzles another night. She'd be standing on the little white bridge where the road takes a bend. And then I would put my questions to her. She was standing there, the next night watching for me. Calling for me to stop. Her dress was changed. It was a costume now she was wearing. All silk and gaity like she was dressed up for a party. You weren't going to stop. No, you'll not be riding in my cab. And I'll not be trucking your dead ancestors anymore. Not for a barrel of nickels. And he's here to take your money. No. It was grandmother saving. She wants you to have it. Oh, so there's a grandmother too is there? Yes. And when will she be riding along to the old mill house? Tonight, Sean. She will ride with you tonight. And after that I'll be riding with you to me, Doctor. And that settles the count of your people? No. It still is you, Sean. Am I hearing you say me? Yes, you too will sit at the long table in the great hall of the dead. You will sit beside me. Alive, is it to be or dead? Dead, Sean. Like us. And what will snuff me out a hearty man like me without a sickness? You will just die. Your heart will just stop. My heart will stop. Don't want to sit beside me? It's not my way of worn already. Sean? Yes, I need. Do you like my costume? I do. And what's it for? The dance at the firehouse. I thought you would take me. I think not. Then I will go alone. Good night, Sean. Compliments of the evening to you, Miss. Instead of sleeping in all Morgan's yard, there I was just before the midnight hour. In the costume of a trucker with a totter in mind. And looking for Eileen in the firehouse. I found her in her stoke of gayity when the Japanese lads were dimmest. The dirty mask that the others were. But not dancing like the others. Eileen? Sean. You're not surprised I came? I knew you'd come. You're not dancing? The music is stopped. It's unmasking time. Midnight is not a minute away. The callers are out. Unmasking Eileen. You unmasked me, Sean O'Hara. Speak again. Say my name again. Sean O'Hara. The voice. Is that the voice of Eileen? I am not Eileen. Put your hand to my mask, Sean. I am old. The life you see is the last I have to show. Look at me for the last time, O'Hara. I am Eileen's grandmother. But Eileen, she was here. Her hand was in mine. Dressed in a costume with a silk and gayity. You're now wearing it. Eileen slips away. To leave me with you. You have business with me now, Sean. Business, you say? Take me to Medoc County. The old mill house. The waterfall. We'll be waiting tonight with you, O'Hara. I drove the lonely night to the Medoc County line. With my freight of storage eggs and canned puts. I met dead in a pine box. The old grandmother and her silks was in her casket. I didn't bother to ask whose job it was. I put the questions to Eileen the next time she waited for me where the road takes a bend around Moon Hollow. And she was there like I know she'd be. Pointing her thumb to hit your eyes. Stop this last time. I did what the checker had laid. She said Conway failed to do it. What I must do. I passed her up. I pushed the gas accelerator to the floor and passed her by in 80. A streak where the highway bends into Moon Hollow. But I didn't leave Eileen behind. She was on the scene beside me. You didn't want to stop, Sean. She was beside me. Without her head. I did, Sean. Now drive me to Medoc County. Imagination gets tipsy. The sheriff of Medoc County is one to know it. And the doctor beside him looking at me with eyes of pity is one to know it too. I hear them talking to me. The words go sailing into the smoke of the moon. I listen. But I do not understand. You ran over on the bridge down in Moon Hollow last night. A 20 ton truck, oh, Harry. Her head was severed. I'll tell you all you need to know about Eileen Grant her grandmother and her people. They were run out of the old mill out of Medoc County about 30 years ago. Native superstition did that. The family was thought to have, well, called it evil powers. Where did you take Eileen? Eileen, what did you do with the body? I'll take you to her. Come, I'll take you to her. I took the sheriff and the doctor to the old mill house where the water falls. Here's Sheriff Eileen and her people sitting around the table in the great hall of the dead. To do this, to set them around the table like that, you couldn't be in your right mind, man. No, I couldn't be. And I'm no one to admit that. I'm not in my right mind to sit here beside Eileen now. What can there ever be between a man and a girl sitting in rotten in an old mill with her ancestors looking around? Oh, Harry, take a look at him. He held Eileen and died just like that. Just like that, Sheriff. Oh, Harry's heart just stopped as if he ruled it. As a special inducement to insanity, that is the more harrowing. Well, I've got one carved right here on my vertebrae. This is for any motorist who runs across Eileen. Give her the girl by Bob. Or she'll get you with dead mileage. The inner sanctum has been brought to you through the facilities of the United States Armed Forces.