by Peta Ealing Cameron

Created on: February 10, 2009   Last Updated: December 03, 2009

It was a cloudy afternoon and a low haze hovered over Goodman Creek. The weather forecasters predicted heavy rain and thunderstorms that evening.

In the secluded and bushy surrounds, a sudden and eerie silence was broken by the screech of tyres. A late model car had collided with an old oak tree.

The young male driver, Paul, was slouched over the steering wheel. Steam filled the air, as the rain fell. The only sound, a low, sombre, cry, echoing in the wind.

The road, usually dusty, was now, a slippery mud- slide. It was a remote, bushy area. No one would hear the cries. A little dog was alone, and injured.

Night fell quickly and the rain pelted heavier. The lightning showered flashes of stark white lustre. Intermittently, a cranky sky illuminated the bush landscape.

The potted holes on the road overflowed, as torrents gushed from the roadside, forming little rivers, joining the creek below.

The rain persisted. The little dog whimpered. Paul was stunned momentarily after hitting his head. He glanced across at he puppy. It appeared only slightly shaken by the impact.

On inspecting his car, he realised, a blown tyre and a damaged radiator were not going to get him home. The old farmhouse where he had purchased the dog seemed the only solution.

He would walk back there, when the storm eased off. But for now he could only comfort his new found friend and pup with soft words.

"It's OK little fella we'll get you home." Paul said to the puppy. The puppy was a gift for his Valentine girl, Sandra.

Nothing could replace her dearest dog Sooty, which she lost in a road accident at Christmas. He looked at the dog. The sight of such a beautiful little animal could only warm her heart.

He was adorable. He hoped the sight of such a dear little white dog might just help put a smile back on her beautiful face. Suddenly the isolation was broken.

A creaky truck door opened, and slammed. Headlights pierced the scene.

It was Ned, the old man, from the farmhouse. He was in his seventies. His wispy grey hair and short white beard dripped, as the trickles from his rain hood leaked onto his weather worn face. Jump in mate

" Paul yelled opening the back drivers side door. "Hello mate, what brings you out in this sort of weather," Paul said. The old man smiled and shook his head.

"Just about to say the same thing to you. So, are you hurt mate?"

"No, I'm fine nothing a new radiator and new tyre won't fix. "Bad weather. I've seen many an accident at this old tree. The rain, washes the curbs

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