Creative Writing, Fiction, Horror, Writing

The Hitchhiker 

   This past week, I wrote a piece of flash fiction for a writing competition. The prompt was something along the lines of creating a story that had two serial killers, one picked up by the other while hitch hiking.   Unfortunately, it didn’t win, which is fortunate for you because you get to read it. I like doing these prompt based assignments because they usually get me to write a quick story that I never would have thought of. They tend to break me out of my comfort zone and let me flex the old creative muscle.  

  I think what I came up with works pretty well but you all can be the judges. Let me know what you think in the comments. Stay Focused and Write On!

               The Hichhiker

I picked him up walking in the rain on a country road. I told him my name was Jeff. It’s not like he’ll ever know I lied.

Someone finally picked me up after getting soaked for over an hour. He told me his name was Jeff. I lied too and gave the name Carl.

I made small talk with Carl to try to put him at ease and turned up the heat to help him dry out.

We chatted about nonsense. I made up an elaborate backstory, complete with an ex stealing my car. Why not have a little fun with this one?

Carl is laying it on thick. When you’ve done this as many times as me, you learn to judge people pretty quick. I won’t feel bad when this is over.

Jeff, or whatever his name is, is getting tense. He might be on to me. But he’s a liar. That makes it so much easier.

Just a little longer and we’ll be at my favorite spot. He’ll fit right in with the others. I think he’s catching on. Going to have to do it quick. I’m starting to get excited.

What a perv! I think he’s getting the wrong idea. We’re almost to a secluded enough spot. I think I’ll take the cross necklace he keeps fidgeting with as a souvenir.

Why does he keep eyeing my cross?Probably a thief too. I can’t stand thieves. I just need to keep him talking for a few more minutes.

Man, this Jeff guy sure does talk a lot. I can’t wait to shut him up. Only a few more minutes. Then he’s done.

Yes, there’s the tree that marks the edge of my collection. Better get ready. What’s he fidgeting with over there?

Just have to get my knife ready. The blade is nice and sharp. One quick swipe and it will be over. I can’t wait to feel the warmth of his blood washing over my hands. He’s nervous. Good. 

Old Carl won’t know what hit him when I stick him with my syringe. I can’t wait to see his eyes darting around when he realizes he’s paralyzed. That tattoo of a wolf on his forearm will make a nice addition to my mural. 

We’ve gone far enough. It’s now or never.

This is the spot. Time to do this.

One.

Two.

Three.

That bastard just cut me.

Damn, he managed to stick me with something.

Getting weak. Can’t stop the bleeding.

Having trouble moving.

Not how I planned this at all.

Wonder how long before someone finds us.

Carl’s going to get some of the credit for my work.

They’re going to think we worked together.

At least the chemicals will eventually kill him.

At least he’ll go before me.

Everything’s getting hazy.

So hard to move.

My mural.

My souvenirs.

This…

…wasn’t….

…supposed…

…to…

…happen…

…like…

…this.

He…beat…me!

I beat him!

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