The Hitchhiker

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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!

Published by optimisticauthor10

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