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A short story that I'm actually rather happy with done for my english class. So much better tha my previous works its not even funny.
Car crashes are bad. Car crashes that result in a ghostly visitor afterwards are much much worse.
Mans Best Friend
“Dad! This isn"t Fair!, “ She yelled at her father who was standing in the door frame, barring her way. He wouldn"t budge, his large form braced against the structure like a wall of meat. A very disgruntled wall of meat. His dark hair was in disarray, sticking up in odd angles, and flopping over his sharply angular features. She narrowed her eyes to match his baby blue ones as he spoke.
“I"m your father, Chelsea, and this is not a democracy, my answer is still No,” He said firm, if not a little harassed tone, running a large hand through his hair. Pouting, Chelsea turned heel and stalked off like a wrath, devising plans to get around this set back in her head.
Brushing a stray strand of blond hair away from her face, Chelsea held her breath. Her heart fluttered like a hummingbird in her chest as she crouched by the door. Her jeans creaked as she tensed, and her bag rustled as she adjusted her weight. She could hear her dad"s footsteps slowly moving away, and then after a few endless moments, silence. The teenager rose to her full height, her bag thudding against her back, painfully loud in the near quiet. Stopping for a few heartbeats, her breath came in shallow spurts, her whole body feeling like it was strung taught. Nothing, and she slipped around the corner, and her slender dancer"s frame darted across the room to the garage door.
The door opened with a painful squeak but there wasn"t anything to be done about that. Moving quickly Chelsea, or Chels as she liked to be called opened the door to her blue Beetle and hopped inside. She reached up to the sun Visor and pushed the button that opened the garage. It rattled and clattered open as she gripped the black stick-shift and put in into gear. Her little car roared to life with a hungry growl, Lights like glowing eyes, and she began to back out. Chels" dad could be heard running through the house as she backed out.
Swiftly retreating from the driveway she swung round to head forward. As she began to drive away her dad, with his pants hastily pulled up onto his hips, and his shirt askew, stood at the steps that led into the garage and looked furiously after his daughter. Cheekily she stuck her tongue out at him before driving off and down the street. Screw his dictatorship, she was gonna start a rebellion.
She was now driving home, smiling. It had felt so good to go the party despite her dad"s disapproval, she had a blast, and had a date later with a cute guy. Sure she"d be in big trouble when she got home, but it had been well worth it. After these pleasant, if not bittersweet thoughts passed through chelsea"s mind she began to notice something weird. Her vision seemed blurred, almost shaky, and her head was slowly rotating like a lazy top. She shook her head, brushing away the odd feelings. A grim thought appeared in her brain shortly afterwards, perhaps someone had spiked her drink.
As she continued along the dark and winding road, heading down the back-roads through fields and small stands of trees, the spinning got gradually worse and so did her driving. Her car wobbled drunkenly on the edges of the yellow lines, the glaring headlights staring off in whichever direction she had happened to turn at the time. A limber four legged figure appeared on the road, white fur mixed with shadowy black. Her bottle blue beetle wobbled and swerved towards the poor unfortunate sheepdog. The canine"s muscles went taught and then released, launching the critter forward in a blur of black and white, turning the bright colors gray. But it was too late.
Whimper, thud! CRUNCH! Chelsea had hit the breaks but not soon enough, her metal locomotive slammed into the side of the dog, the front tire"s rolling over its prone form. Chel"s cut the engine, the rumbling of the metal beast falling silent. Carefully she got out of the car, and shut the blue door. Guided only by the vibrant moonlight she walked round the front of the car and sucked in air in a horrified gasp. Eerily outlined by the silver light the sheepdog"s body lay broken behind the left front tire of her car, and gore splattered the grill.
She began to cry and she put her face in her hands. Chel"s loved dogs, and this shook her to the core. The poor canine had no collar that she could see, and at a loss to do anything else, she gently moved the body off the road. One last glance rested on the dog, and she blinked a couple times, finding it hard to believe that she had ended this creatures life. She turned away and clambered into her small car, shaking as she grabbed the steering wheel. Powered by adrenaline, the alcohol in her system was overridden by the hormone and she pulled away from the scene. She didn"t look back... just drove.
She turned into her street, her heart rate still elevated. She turned down her steep driveway, the bottom of the car scraping loudly on the the concrete as she had not taken care to avoid the ridge there. Wincing at the sound, she stopped and opened the car door, and got out, stumbling forward like she was dying. Her dad appeared at the door, eyes narrowed in a furious glare. He began to speak, his tone threatening, angry, the deep bass of his voice rumbling with emotion. Chelsea paid no heed to this, and stumbled up the brick steps, onto the wooden porch, and into his arms. Her dad was totally bewildered and surprised by this and for a few awkward seconds stood there limply. Then he embraced her and sighed, head shaking.
“What am I going to do with you?” He asked, the question more rhetoric than anything else. Chelsea, to answer, just shrugged, and he ushered her inside. He turned off the porch light and shut the battered cream door, still shaking his head.
Had it really happened? She woke up with this question on her mind, it fleeted to dark recesses as she robotically got ready for school, but it still was there. It was there as she tucked the blue covers of her bed over the under sheets, it was there as she got dressed in a black cami, jeans, and a white tribal marked hoodie, it was there when she ate breakfast. It was there as she dolled herself up. Last night seemed so surreal to her now, almost taking an Ironic edge. Sure there was the fact she was grounded, but that was a given, as the party was surely real. But had she really ended something"s life last night?By the time her dad had handed her the keys to her car, she was really frantic. She hurried out the front door and into the garage where her car sat, pristine and not dented. Perhaps it was something her dreaming mind had imagined.
The shrill bell"s cry rang out over the school as she shut the door to her bug. Her pace quickened and she began to hurry, running over the deserted courtyard. She pasted the benches on the left side, and scrambled to the glass door. Tugging hard, Chels let out a sigh of relief as the door had not been locked yet. Dashing over the slippery floor she almost crashed into a wall or two as she rounded corners, passed closed doors, around other kids who were late as well, and around a wet floor sign. Her teacher, a lanky old man with salt and pepper hair, was closing the door as she reached his classroom. Chelsea caught the brown wood before it could close shut, and the Mr. Moore, stared at her disapprovingly from his thick glasses and shook his head before opening it to omit her.
Dodging desks and ignoring a couple chuckles from an student or two she flopped down into her chair a exhale of hair. Her quick breaths slowly slowed as she dropped her black backpack down with a muted thud. After some shuffling and digging Chels retrieved the necessary pencil, eraser and paper, before laying her eyes on the whiteboard, catastrophically messy teaches desk, and the slender frame of Mr. Moore at the front. He then proceeded to pass out the history exam they had that day, causing many groans when students eyes laid upon the questionnaire.
She dotted her last sentence with finality. Flipping the papers over so no wildly straying eye could catch the answers placed there, she looked out the window on the right, directly opposite from the door she had entered. The window itself was above a cluttered bookshelf and she stared back into her own hazel eyes. Finding that a strand of dark hair had strayed from her ponytail she pushed it back, and froze. There staring back at her was the dog she had crashed into last night. She stifled a scream/
It was a sheepdog, and a well bred one with chiseled muzzled, bold markings, and luxurious fur. This lovely fluff was marred by blood splatters and gore, and a long and painful raw patch graced its left side. A flash of white where a rib peaked through, stood out against the sea of red. Its face was beautiful, but only the right side, the other side was dented and mutilated in horrendous ways. What scared her the most was not the gruesome injuries it had but the surreal look it had to it. It wasn"t quite real, blurred, distorted, opaque, essentially just not completely there. A ghost, a phantasm. The sheepdog looked at her with sad innocent eyes and gave a hopeful wag of its banner like tail. Unable to take it, Chelsea felt her breakfast threatening to leave her stomach. Without so much of a word to her teacher she pushed her chair back and stumbled quickly out of the room, her breathing increasing as she moved to the door.
Dashing down the hall, and tripping into the girls bathroom she careened into a stall and braced herself on its walls. Out rolled her breakfast, emptying her stomach of all its contents. Afterwards she stood, braced, and breathing hard, with tears rolling down her pale cheeks. After a long while she wandered listlessly out of the stall. Outside the bathroom waited Mr. Moore, his usually emotionless face concerned.
“Do you need to go home?”he asked, bracing her shoulder as she wavered there. She nodded weakly.
“Yeah.. thanks,” she responded, her voice taking on an uncharacteristic tremulous quality. He frowned briefly, worrying, before he guided her to the door of her classroom. Softly he called a student"s name.
“Becca!” he stage whispered. A girl of average height with short boyish black hair, blue eyes, jeans, a band shirt, and a bowler hat approached. She sidled around Mr. Moore and came to chelsea"s side. Mr. Moore explained things to her before returning through the portal and into the school room. Chels, still pale and shaking was guided to the office by Becca, simply shaking her head at her friends concerned whispers. The reached the office without indecent, and entered the immaculately clean, organized room with white washed walls, office space on the far wall, and a hallway leading from the left wall. The attendant took one look at Chelsea and called her father.
She sat, shaking, on the couch at home while her father searched for something to help her. Unable to find the right medicine her turned to his scared sick daughter, running his big hands through his dark hair.
“ We don"t have any. I"m going to CVS, wait here,” he told her before grabbing his wallet off the kitchen table, and then proceeded to pause as he walked past the back of the sofa. He reached over the cream fabric and placed a light hand on her brown hair before walking out of the house, his heavy footsteps echoing in the empty hall. She heard his truck roar to life, and pull out of the driveway. When he could no longer be heard she screamed as the apparition of the dog appeared in the center of the living room.
This time it rocked its weight back on its haunches and sat, looking expectantly at her, its head cocked to the right, its mangled face tilted to the ceiling. Chelsea scooted back on the couch and curled into a fetal position. The dog then pulled one of those I"m worried about you looks, and padded closer on unsteady paws. Chels whimpered. The dog let out a hollow whine before turning and walking a few paces to the right and towards the hall. It stopped and waited expectantly. When Chelsea did not come it walked back and tried to grab her sleeve, but its jaws passed through her arm. It sent shivers down Chelsea"s spine and the dog whined with frustration. Too scared to move the teen make a weak shoo motion with her hand. The dog did not leave instead continued to try and get her to move. Eventually Chelsea relented, and followed the ghost dog cautiously.
It led her to her blue bug. The dog scratched hopefully at the door, strangling leaving ethereal and lurid scratches on its side before the paw passed through entirely. Surprised by this development the canine tried to follow suit with his nose. Discovering that it could indeed pass through the door it clambered into the car and perched, somehow on the seat. The sheepdog gave her a grin that said, “I"m a genius aren"t I?”Chelsea giggled weakly before getting in herself and starting up the engine. She backed out and the dog, with its nose, guided her through the maze of streets and onto the same road she had collided with it.
The unlikely pair meandered down the rural byway, and finally came to the bend and its grass where the poor creatures body lay. Stopping a hundred yards off, they approached the limp form flies circled it lazily and a putrid stench rose from it. She looked at the canine.
“Now what fido?” she asked the dog, her voice stronger than before but there was still an edge of fear to it. The dog mimed digging motions at the ground. Chelsea frowned at him but fetched the shovel she had in the boot from environmental club. With a heavy sigh she dug the shovel into the dirt and lifted a mound of earth from the sparsely covered grassy ground.
After a good thirty minutes she had a big hole. Covered in sweat she glanced at the dog, her expression less that amused. It mimed picking up something and dropping it in the hole. She stared it at for a moment, but it gave her the dogs best weapon, the begging eyes. With an even heavier sigh this time she grabbed the gloves from the back seat(also from environmental club) and put them on. Holding her breath she gently picked up the body, it had gone stiff. She dropped it unceremoniously in the hole and covered the sad sight with dirt. The ghost on the other hand ran around in a happy circle and barked happily. Chelsea, who found the joy contagious, smiled. Yes the dog was ghost, but he wasn"t that scary. Slowly he faded out and Chels waved at the spot it had been in. As she turned her back, peeling off the gardening glove she heard the screeching of tires behind her.
A small SUV came careening down the road, swerving left and right. Shocked by the irony she stood frozen as the vehicle barreled towards her. At the last second it swerved out of her path and traveled until it slammed into her car with a sickening crunch. Chelsea wavered like a leaf in the wind for a few short seconds before falling to her bum. She put her head in her hands and cried. After a while she wondered over to her ruined car and discovered the driver unconscious, collapsed over the wheel and showered with glass. The airbag surrounded him like a cloud. Chelsea then wandered to her car, still unsteady, and managed to find her phone, miraculously undamaged. She dialed 911.
“I"d like to report a crash.”
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