Thirty Days in Purgatory
April 17, 2005 11:12 pmA in progress work of collected short stories:
Here is an excerpt from Hitch
Dirty old man thinks he can pick up a young female hitchhiker and do what he wants with her. Easiest way for me to get a ride somewhere, thumb some ride from some lonely old man who thought I was a nice pair of legs to look at, or a nice ass, or any other part of my body that they would not so secretly admire. Some tramp, I’m sure they thought, they always thought, as I threw my bag in the back and climbed into the front seat. None of them had any clue about the stout stick I carried with me, something I could pull out and thump them soundly with in a couple seconds. Most didn’t find out, most didn’t go past glancing at me up and down. I could put up with that, after all, we’re all given eyes and a brain and an endocrine system attached to them.
This dirty old man tested my limits.
I felt nothing from him as he drove quietly beside me, eyes on the road only half the time, wandering hands grabbing the steering wheel, his water bottle, fiddling with the radio controls, looking for junk around the car’s cabin. He had an odd manner about him, never quite looking you in the eye, never quite looking at your face. I’m not sure what he tried to look at except when I felt him looking at my body, my hair, anything connected to me.
Categories: writing
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