How negligent some people can be, leaving their shopping carts in parking spaces to roll where the wind takes them. Drivers will leer at them; their anger harsher than the sunlight. Sometimes you can see the carts shifting closer to each other even when the air is still.
A co-worker of mine once had a friend named Trent. He worked at a department store that closed pretty late. He was the only person left in the store at the end of his shift one weekend, and he'd had so many things to take care of that he had neglected his job of moving the buggies strewn across the parking lot back into the store. When he finally went outside, he was surprised to see the parking lot completely empty. What happened to all the shopping carts? He turned back inside to call for his manager, belatedly remembering how pale she had looked when she said she was sick and left for home early. The store was dark. Clothes hung still on their racks. Mannequins stood watch by the windows. A squeaky wheel rolled down a far aisle. Someone else was still in the store.
"Hello?" Trent called out, taking a step forward. The wheel stopped. Trent kept walking, taking out his flashlight. It flickered for a bit, only to reveal a single overturned buggy laying in his path. It's frame was bent and mashed; the plastic seat ripped off and flung a few feet away. Most of the metal was missing. The lone wheel had rolled from under a rack of clothes and fallen down.
Trent heard a terrible sound coming from a few aisles across the store. Metal twisting and screeching and walking. Wheels interlocking to form joints. Handles curved to form horns. Claws scraping over tiled floor. Trent ran, but the buggy-man was faster.