Ghost of a Chance

by Bloody Simpson Chibi

Disclaimer: I do not own Ginger Snaps. I just write this shit for fun.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this."

Ghost trembled against the back of the closet. The stump where her left arm used to hang would not stop dripping blood no matter how hard she squeezed it. The crimson droplets flowed through her fingers like cracks in the sidewalk and fell into a red spalt besides her.

"It was supposed to be the beginning of my reign of terror!"

Ghost wanted to cry again and for a moment, felt tempted to do so. After all, the growls and howls of the monster downstairs from her were so deafening that there was a good chance that her cries would be drowned out.

But she couldn't take that chance. Not with a werewolf.

"Oh Bridgett, why? Why did you do this to me?"

Over and over again she thought back to ten minutes in the past when Barbara had finally come home. Ghost was much happier then. She couldn't wait to show Barbara her new hellhound. It was supposed to be so simple. Toss the old bag into the basement and watch her new pet feed. This would establish their relationship, strengthen their bond, be the first of many, many feeding times!

Ghost never expected Bridgett to jump out of the opening doorway.

And why would she? Bridgett had been so weak the last time she saw her. The snack was supposed to get her strength up a little, give her a reason to be Ghost's pet.

Barbara's death was quick. A quick bite to the throat relieved her of her voice box and as she fell over from her chair, the agony of her charred skin reigniting upon contact with the wood, she uttered a choked gasp in place of a scream.

The scream was left to Ghost who, while fascinated with the blood spurting from her Grandmother's throat, was shocked at how fast and how hard her new hellhound broke through the door. She expected Bridgett to be weakened still.

"No! Back inside!" She remembered shouting as she rushed to push the werewolf back into the basement.

Big mistake.

One well-timed chomp, a sickening crunch and Ghost found herself missing an arm.

Only now did she scream and cry, falling on her ass as the werewolf swallowed the arm whole. Far from satisfied with the appetizer, the monster sank its teeth into Barbara's leg and pulled her down into the basement. The old woman was already dead by the time her head hit step after step, her suffering finally over.

But for Ghost, it was only beginning.

Clutching her new stump, the sobbing mess of a girl ran out of the room toward the front door. She tried to pull it open but it wouldn't budge. She moved her stump toward the knob to unlock it, only to paint it with scarlet. She sobbed again and reached for the knob with her only hand before the furious cry of the werewolf chilled her blood.

The beast had finished with its meal. Now it was time for dessert.

Ghost ran up to her room and ducked into the closet. She huddled in there, forcing herself to stop crying lest the beast hear her. Trying in vain to force herself to stop bleeding lest it smell her.

"Why Bridgett? Why did you betray me!? I am your master! You...you bad dog!"

Ghost's defiant thoughts vanished as she heard the beast slam its paw into her room. She could see it through the cracks of her closet now, bloody foam falling from its trembling jaws, eyes narrowed with hatred and focus. What little trace of Bridgett Fitzgerald remained in the beast up until this moment was long lost. What remined of any belief that the monster in her room could be her hellhound vanished in Ghost's mind as well.

"N-No...this is supposed to be my reign of terror...not yours..."

The werewolf bent over and lapped up something off the floor. Ghost's eyes lowered to the floor and widened with fear as she realized it was blood.

Her blood. Making a nice trail for the beast to follow.

In the end, Ghost had been done in not by sound or smell but by taste.

The werewolf continued to lick the yummy droplets toward the closet door until at last, its eyes locked with Ghost's once again.

Another betrayal marked by the locking of their eyes.

"No...please...please no!"

The werewolf snarled.

"No...no...Grandma!"

The last thing Ghost would see in this realm was the dark gullet of the beast that was to be her hellhound. The last thing she felt was the sharpened pressure of its teeth tearing into her forehead and chin simultaneously.

And the last thing she heard was her own screams muffling in the shadows of the werewolf's jaws.