The Hitchhiker

hitchhiker
I opened the car door and he climbed in.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“Santa Fe.”
“You from there?”
He looked over at me, his face morphed into red flesh crossed by black tire treads. He smiled a toothless grin, eyes bulbous and staring.
“When I was alive.”

The story was written for the YeahWrite microprose challenge – a ghost story in 49 words excluding the words ghost, haunt, spirit, fright, chill and eerie. Click the link above to read other entries and vote for your favorites!

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