Ghost Dog

A Chilling Tale by: Orange360


Chapter One

My dog died. My dog died. My dog died.

I can barely say it in my head. I don’t want to even think about it. But I have to because I need to help people who have lost something important to them.

Rosy was her name. Want to know why? Whenever she was happy her eyes would be as pretty as roses.

Do you think it’s stupid? If you do, shut it.

When I found out that she had died, my stepmom said, “Now honey, it’s the circle of life. And besides, she died of old age.”

What I said back was not very nice.

You may think I am a little brat. But that dog was the only thing I had left of my mom.
What happened to my mom? You may be thinking, well get that out of your mind because that’s a different story and I really don’t want to talk about it.

When Rosy died, I was so crushed I cried for a month at least, and as you can see I’m not over it. The reason she was so important to me was that she was a protector of all the bad things in the world that would try to hurt me.

You think it may be stupid, but my house is haunted. Do you not believe me? Well come to my house and see for yourself.

Oh yeah. My name is Grace.

 When my dog died I had no one to meet me at the bus. It was harder than ever. Whenever someone tried to bully me, Rose would bark, and she can’t do that anymore. Then whoever had tried to bully me would run off. Now I have to deal with it all by myself.

Chapter 2

I walked into middle school; no one pays a lick of attention to me, as usual. But I really don't care.

My first class is math. I sit at my seat and read.

I hate math. Math is difficult. VERY difficult. Our math teacher is named Mr. Smith.

He is actually nice, believe it or not. This is what he says to us every math class … “Hello class, get out your Minnie whiteboard. Write what your mood is, and if it is bad … CHANGE IT”!

I write down my mood. In my best hand writing I spell out, G-R-U-E-S-O-M-E.

While Mr. Smith walks around the room, I look at the kid’s whiteboards. They all make me think.

A lot say cool or awesome or great. What makes me think is that if their day is so cool or awesome or great, why do they have to make mine so gruesome?

Then I get over it, because if I say anything it still won’t make a difference.

I see out of the corner of my eye that Mr. Smith is coming over to my desk.

Even though he is my favorite teacher, he makes me nervous.