Since she was young, she loved the strange, uncanny and even terrifying. Horror obsessed, not seen without a graphic tee, and wearing her neon pink scrunchie she is Fatemore's Bravest. Birch Barker looks into the mysteries, folklore and phenomena th...
Normally folding chairs were reserved for camping trips, roasting squishy marshmallows over a toasty fire. Yet she sat in the middle of Old Fate on that smoky thing. Perched above, Shaliver "supervised" the situation with anticipated amusement. As for why she chose here she said something about, "returning to their place of death." Something she found common with ghosts. Either way, he was just as hoping as Birch for this mysterious car to show up.
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And appear it did.
White eyes now a sickly pink, smelling of cooked flesh and gasoline. Even standing up she could feel herself being looked down upon. Childish giggles freeze the air as the backs of its wheel spin into action. Throwing her childhood camping chair at it she dives around the street corner. Drifting around the corner, time was too short for it to notice the oil just out of view. Colliding with the broken-down pop shoppe at high speed. Before the rubble clears she tosses the ladder balls at its tires, locking them in place. They don't call me the Ladder Ball Queen for nothing.
As she charges in, she pulls out the axe from her backpack. Jumping into the air she brings it down mercilessly on the plastic punk. It can't chase me if it's chopped into little pieces.
Shaliver clapped his little paws, enjoying the Birch's spectacle. Not so hard now was it?
She would have been cursing his words if she had heard them. Because as she continued to hack and hack the pieces weren't splitting off. Instead, the holes closed in front of her very eyes. It was starting to recover faster than she could hit. The ropes snapped.
Her elbows scraped the pavement, being flung across the street. Staring into their painted eyes a chill ran up her spine.
Shaliver could see her scramble to her feet right before the car charged at her. As the two speeded off down the dishevelled street he rose to his paws. Doing some stretches he would join in the chase eagerly. Catching up he can already tell that Birch is panicking. She narrowly dodges the engineless vehicle, whose only sounds were reminiscent of annoying giggling. Using the light poles as means to keep distance and making sharp turns won't work forever. After a few funny minutes of watching her struggle, he decides to end it before it gets too serious.
Leaping high into the air he lands between her and the terrorizing tyke. He smirks, "Seeing as you're in desperate need of my assistance I'll step in. Let me show you how it's done. I can end this with just this tail." Putting it in front of him the car is swiftly stopped in its tracks. He does it.
For five seconds.
How ironic, the one who ate roadkill now is roadkill. He twitched "...Sha-" he gets driven over again. And again. His body was looking like he was crushed during rush hour on a Saturday. The last one flung him into the air, Birch being able to safely catch him. Going down another alley she begins the chase again. After some tumbles and manoeuvres, the two were able to find a safe spot inside the dumpster. Inside the metal walls from the edge of her hearing the squeaky plastic tires getting close.
