This writing was accepted for publication in the 108 page perfect-bound ISSN# / ISBN# issue/book... “Ancient Colors” Down in the Dirt, v148 (the August 2017 Issue) You can also order this 6"x9" issue as a paperback book:

Order this writing in the issue book Random Thoughts the Down in the Dirt July-Dec. 2016 collection book		get the 418 page May-August 2017 Down in the Dirt issue anthology 6" x 9" ISBN# paperback book:

Order this writing in the book Negative Space (the 2017 poetry, flash fiction & art collection anthology)		get the 298 page poem, flash fiction & art collection anthology as a 6" x 9" ISBN# paperback book:

Hitchhiked

Amber Shoemake-Doughty

    Collin had defied the odds. Laughing energetically, his veins pumped with adrenalin which set fire beneath his feet. It was time to go, in fact, time seemed to be making him go. This was not the first time this scene played out, and it likely wouldn’t be the last. All Collin’s life he had an undeniable need to run. When he could run no more, he would hitch rides with strangers. Sometimes, the strangers were truck drivers. Greasy, plump men who were eerily quiet or suspiciously talkative. Other times, young couples or even mothers with children would pick him up. Collin was always concerned about these women. Did they really not know the danger they were putting themselves in? Collin always wondered what happened to those naïve ladies.
    This time was as casual as they come. Collin stood about a mile out from a rest stop on the side of the southern highway, with his scrawny arm outstretched and his thumb pointing up like a dog sniffing the air. This time, Collin wasn’t trying to go anywhere specific. When a truck the color of hell fire stopped next to him, he knew it was meant to be.
    “Where you headin’?” The truck driver looked down at him, saliva popping out of his mouth with every word. “Need a ride?”
    “Yes,” Collin responded.
    “Well get in.”
    Collin climbed in the truck, quickly putting on his seatbelt. This man looked different than the rest. He had hair that looked like a sunset, and eyes that flickered like emeralds. He was special. That much Collin knew.
    The truck shook, and suddenly they were on their way. A few moments of deliberate silence filled the truck. Silence Collin counted on. He needed to assess his surroundings. He scanned the car for potential weapons and escape routes. He did this religiously. Suddenly the silence was broken.
    “So.” The gleaming truck driver turned to Collin with a concerned smile on his face. “Are you going anywhere specific?”
    Collin looked back at the truck driver, almost sad that this was his fate. He reached into his bag and pulled out a machete and smiled back at the truck driver. Before he could respond his pupils dilated and everything turned red.
    “Hell,” Collin responded, as the truck veered off the road, crashing into a drainage ditch.

Copyright of written pieces remain with the author, who has allowed it to be shown through Scars Publications and Design.Web site © Scars Publications and Design. All rights reserved. No material may be reprinted without express permission from the author.

Problems with this page? Then deal with it...