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Description
Man's 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
hazel eyes to match his steely blue ones as he spoke.

"I'm your father, Chelsea, and this is not a democracy, my answer is still No," He
said in a firm, if not a little harassed tone, running a large hand
through his hair. Pouting, Chelsea, or Chels as she liked to be
called , turned heel and stalked off like a wraith, 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 felt like it was strung
taught. Nothing, not a sound, and so she slipped around the corner,
her slender dancer's frame darting across the room to the garage
door.

The door opened with a painful squeak but there wasn't anything she could do to
prevent that. Moving quickly Chelsea opened the door to her
Volkswagen bug and hopped inside. She reached up to the sun visor and
pushed the attached button that opened the garage. It rattled and
clattered open as she gripped the black stick-shift and put it into
gear. Her little car roared to life with a hungry growl, its lights
like glowing eyes. Chels' dad could be heard running through the
house as she backed out.

Swiftly retreating from the driveway, she swung round to head up the street. 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  and glared
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,  and she had a blast. She even 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 felt like it
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 searching every which way for
something, anything. 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.
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 tires rolling
over its prone form. Chels 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. Chels 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. Now, had anyone bothered to look, she would have well defined
the phrase caught red handed. Anyway, 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
ridge.  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 passed the benches on the left side,  breezed by the
garden on the right 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. Mr. Moore, stared at her disapprovingly through his thick
glasses, and then 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 air. Her quick breaths 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 front of the room. There was
the whiteboard, the catastrophically messy teaches desk, and the
slender frame of Mr. Moore at the front.  He then proceeded to pass
out the history exam.

~*~
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, earning a mix of baffled and worried stares from
her teacher and peers.

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, no it was , the surreal look it had to
it. It wasn't quite real, blurred, distorted, opaque, essentially
just not completely there. It was 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
surprised teacher, she pushed her chair back and stumbled quickly out
of the room, her breathing increasing as she moved towards 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. A long while
passed and then 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 door 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 incident, and entered the
immaculately clean, organized room with white washed walls. The
office space was on the far wall, and a hallway  lead  away 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,  and ran 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 dark 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 suddenly screamed.  The apparition of the dog
had appeared in the center of the living room.

This time it rocked its weight back on its haunches and sat, looked 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
made 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, strangly 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?" and 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
drove slowly 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 in the ground.
Chelsea frowned at him but fetched the shovel she had in the
boot(trunk) 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 joyfully. 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
gloves, she heard the screeching of tires behind her.

A small SUV came careening down the road, swerving left and right. Shocked by the
irony of the situation, 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, and collapsed over the wheel, 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."

Description
Man's 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
hazel eyes to match his steely blue ones as he spoke.

"I'm your father, Chelsea, and this is not a democracy, my answer is still No," He
said in a firm, if not a little harassed tone, running a large hand
through his hair. Pouting, Chelsea, or Chels as she liked to be
called , turned heel and stalked off like a wraith, 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 felt like it was strung
taught. Nothing, not a sound, and so she slipped around the corner,
her slender dancer's frame darting across the room to the garage
door.

The door opened with a painful squeak but there wasn't anything she could do to
prevent that. Moving quickly Chelsea opened the door to her
Volkswagen bug and hopped inside. She reached up to the sun visor and
pushed the attached button that opened the garage. It rattled and
clattered open as she gripped the black stick-shift and put it into
gear. Her little car roared to life with a hungry growl, its lights
like glowing eyes. Chels' dad could be heard running through the
house as she backed out.

Swiftly retreating from the driveway, she swung round to head up the street. 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  and glared
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,  and she had a blast. She even 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 felt like it
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 searching every which way for
something, anything. 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.
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 tires rolling
over its prone form. Chels 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. Chels 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. Now, had anyone bothered to look, she would have well defined
the phrase caught red handed. Anyway, 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
ridge.  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 passed the benches on the left side,  breezed by the
garden on the right 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. Mr. Moore, stared at her disapprovingly through his thick
glasses, and then 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 air. Her quick breaths 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 front of the room. There was
the whiteboard, the catastrophically messy teaches desk, and the
slender frame of Mr. Moore at the front.  He then proceeded to pass
out the history exam.

~*~
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, earning a mix of baffled and worried stares from
her teacher and peers.

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, no it was , the surreal look it had to
it. It wasn't quite real, blurred, distorted, opaque, essentially
just not completely there. It was 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
surprised teacher, she pushed her chair back and stumbled quickly out
of the room, her breathing increasing as she moved towards 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. A long while
passed and then 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 door 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 incident, and entered the
immaculately clean, organized room with white washed walls. The
office space was on the far wall, and a hallway  lead  away 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,  and ran 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 dark 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 suddenly screamed.  The apparition of the dog
had appeared in the center of the living room.

This time it rocked its weight back on its haunches and sat, looked 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
made 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, strangly 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?" and 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
drove slowly 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 in the ground.
Chelsea frowned at him but fetched the shovel she had in the
boot(trunk) 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 joyfully. 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
gloves, she heard the screeching of tires behind her.

A small SUV came careening down the road, swerving left and right. Shocked by the
irony of the situation, 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, and collapsed over the wheel, 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."