'The three main characters that I'm in love with that don't really belong in the same book and the plot that sort-of-but-not-really flows into a quasi-coherent but hopefully entertaining genre-bending project thing'... err... working title
an excerpt

Clare felt the presence of a man before she saw him. She had been ten feet from the wrecked cars when she stopped crawling, an empty feeling in her stomach. A shadow had been thrown over the dash of the Camaro, and was weaving itself in between the two cars. Clare’s heart leapt to her throat. They’re alive! The passengers of the civic must be okay- trying to get away from the smoke. Tears welled in her eyes that had nothing to do with the windswept smog. Oh thank goodness. She began crawling again, faster this time, towards the tiny gap between the cars. She saw movement through the smoke, and she thought she heard a voice, muttering softly.
“Hey!” she yelled into the thickening wall of smoke. She inhaled a lungful of black soot, and coughed violently, her aching ribs rattling noisily under her thin tee shirt. “Hey-” she tried again. The smoke was making it harder and harder to breathe. Maybe they can’t hear me. Suddenly, a black shoe appeared from between the gap. Clare peered up through the dense fog, trying to discern who the shoe belonged to, but was met with only billowing blackness. The shoe swept forward and cut her underneath the chin, knocking the breath out of her and sending her head hurtling backwards, closely followed by the rest of her weary body. She gasped, hitting the ground with a dull thud, the air flying out of her with a whoosh. She heard a hoarse yelp.
“Bloody hell!” the voice came at Clare through her hazy consciousness, her eyes were watering, and her vision began to blacken at the corners, and her mouth was filling up with blood. The foot suddenly disappeared under a long black coat, and a head appeared from above the smoke. “Bugger! What are you doing crawling on the ground? I didn’t see you, I- are you okay?” A thick Irish accent gusted from the smoke. Clare’s eyes shot open.
“Arrgh” she gagged on the rust- flavored blood in her mouth, and spat it out on ground beside the man’s foot. His eyes crinkled,
“I really am sorry- I didn’t mean to kick you- but you were on the ground.” Ge looked up incredulously. She had just been in a car crash, and he was reprimanding her for not standing? His eyes were pleading at her, like a kindergartener begging to be let out of detention so he could get to recess.
“Are you okay?” she asked. Her mind was swimming with the images flashing through her mind. He was fine- not a scratch on him, and yet... the crash... there was no way... Her thoughts were interrupted by a bitter laugh.
“I should be asking you that. Do you feel dizzy?” He put his hand gently on her arm and eased her to a sitting position. She shook her head.
“Why- What-”, she stopped. The smoke that had been dissipating around the cars was sudden clear enough to see through. Clare peered through gap between the smoky wreckage and gasped, horrified. The navy blue civic was folded in half, spooning the green Camaro’s front bumper. Under it, almost completely hidden by the mangled metal, was a boy.