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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Mystery
- Subject: Horror / Scary
- Published: 07/10/2017
Sweet Hitchhiker
Born 1964, F, from Gordon, ACT, AustraliaPart One: The Man
Randolph King pulled into the rest area with a sigh of relief. He’d been on the road for hours and had two large coffees that had worked their way through his system and were now clamouring for release.
He stepped lightly out of his family sedan and stretched, taking in a lungful of refreshing autumn air that was redolent with the smell of fallen leaves. Not too far away, the sound of rushing water worked its magic, and he quickly relieved himself in the open air, relishing the feel of the cool air on his exposed skin.
The silence was magic; he could barely hear the infrequent traffic from the highway. A good a time as any to organise … things.
He used both hands to sweep his thick white hair back off his face, then adjusted his nice suit and twitched his tie into place. After all, a man was only as successful as he looked, no matter that he was currently alone. He popped the boot and stepped around to the back of the sedan.
Randolph made a modest living selling Bibles. They were nice Bibles, bound in rich brown leather with gold embossed titling. He would write the new owner’s name on the inside with a beautiful flowing penmanship before handing it to them with a courtly half-bow and a charming manner that flustered more than one middle aged heart – not all of them female, either.
He leaned into the back of the wagon and moved his Bibles to one side so he could reach in and pull out the cooling body of a recently deceased young woman. A plastic bag obscured her face and collected the coagulating blood from a catastrophic head wound that had been delivered by the good Mr King himself, with the aid of the weighted end of his walking cane.
Closing his eyes, he concentrated on the still silence, one last check to make sure his work wouldn’t be interrupted. The slight body slid easily over the damp autumn leaves, but Randolph was still lightly perspiring in the cool air by the time he had slid the body to the water’s edge. He stood upright and stretched backwards, wincing at the pain, and reminded himself that old age sure as hell wasn’t for pussies! He used his switchblade to slice open the plastic bag before rolling the naked body into the water. By the time the body was found, any trace of him would be long gone. Randolph had been getting away with his pleasures for a very long time.
He made his way back to the sedan, and with almost religious ceremony cut a very fine slit into the wood of his walking cane, running his finger over the series of slices with sexual ecstasy. If anyone were to ever notice the cuts and ask about them, Randolph would tell them that it was a record of the number of years that the Lord Jesus had kept him from the demon drink.
And that sure was a lot of years.
Part 2: The Girl
Aileen Cross sat quietly in the truck stop café, finishing the last of her coffee. The remains of her fries lay cooling on the plate in a pool of watery tomato sauce. The plate had food crusted on the edge from yestermeals, which was almost enough to kill her appetite altogether.
She stood and stretched, ignoring the lustful looks from the predominantly male customers, and the insinuating queries as to whether she would like a ride with a REAL man, and invitations for her to come look at the size of Johnno’s big truck.
No thanks.
Aileen shrugged her backpack onto her shoulders and wandered out into the cool afternoon, walking in the opposite direction of the traffic flow on the one-way highway until she was out of sight of the café.
Traffic was a bit light-on, but she was confident she wouldn’t have to wait too long for a lift. In fact, here came a car now. A family-type sedan driven by an older gentleman with a kind face. She propped her hand on her hip to exaggerate her shapely body, and cocked her thumb. The driver pulled over onto the crunchy gravel at the side of the highway.
Part 3: The Journey
The journey ended here. A clearing off a fire trail that was only closed to those who took notice of gates and locks.
Aileen stood shivering in the open, her thin jacket no protection against the late afternoon. “I’m not taking my damned clothes off, you old pervert”, she managed to say through her clenched teeth.
Randolph smiled. “There’s fifty dollars you just took off me that says otherwise, honey. Just take your clothes off and turn around. I just want to look, that’s all.” His cane felt warm and ready under his sweaty hand. “There’s another fifty in it for you, if you do. Please, I’m begging you.” This couldn’t end now that he was so wound up and ready. And he was going to get the money back, anyway.
Aileen thought about it briefly, then shrugged. “Okay, another fifty, I strip off and turn around. But I’m only gonna be naked for five minutes. Right?”
Randolph nodded eagerly.
“Fine, then bring the money over here. I ain’t getting naked until I get the money.”
Randolph pulled the money out of his wallet and limped over to her.
Then the weirdest thing happened.
As he handed her the note, the girl punched him in the chest! Well that was completely uncalled for, was his surprised first thought. His second and subsequent thoughts faded into a grey dimness as he slowly folded to the ground, blood pumping from his chest. He bled out and died within minutes.
Aileen knelt and used Randolph’s shirt to wipe off the blade, before using it to carefully place a cut on her upper thigh. Another cut in a precise series of parallel cuts that decorated her leg. If anyone were to ask about those cuts, not that they usually survived that long, she would tell them that each line represented a scumbag that she had saved from going to jail.
And boy, that sure was a lot of scumbags.
Sweet Hitchhiker(Hazel Dow)
Part One: The Man
Randolph King pulled into the rest area with a sigh of relief. He’d been on the road for hours and had two large coffees that had worked their way through his system and were now clamouring for release.
He stepped lightly out of his family sedan and stretched, taking in a lungful of refreshing autumn air that was redolent with the smell of fallen leaves. Not too far away, the sound of rushing water worked its magic, and he quickly relieved himself in the open air, relishing the feel of the cool air on his exposed skin.
The silence was magic; he could barely hear the infrequent traffic from the highway. A good a time as any to organise … things.
He used both hands to sweep his thick white hair back off his face, then adjusted his nice suit and twitched his tie into place. After all, a man was only as successful as he looked, no matter that he was currently alone. He popped the boot and stepped around to the back of the sedan.
Randolph made a modest living selling Bibles. They were nice Bibles, bound in rich brown leather with gold embossed titling. He would write the new owner’s name on the inside with a beautiful flowing penmanship before handing it to them with a courtly half-bow and a charming manner that flustered more than one middle aged heart – not all of them female, either.
He leaned into the back of the wagon and moved his Bibles to one side so he could reach in and pull out the cooling body of a recently deceased young woman. A plastic bag obscured her face and collected the coagulating blood from a catastrophic head wound that had been delivered by the good Mr King himself, with the aid of the weighted end of his walking cane.
Closing his eyes, he concentrated on the still silence, one last check to make sure his work wouldn’t be interrupted. The slight body slid easily over the damp autumn leaves, but Randolph was still lightly perspiring in the cool air by the time he had slid the body to the water’s edge. He stood upright and stretched backwards, wincing at the pain, and reminded himself that old age sure as hell wasn’t for pussies! He used his switchblade to slice open the plastic bag before rolling the naked body into the water. By the time the body was found, any trace of him would be long gone. Randolph had been getting away with his pleasures for a very long time.
He made his way back to the sedan, and with almost religious ceremony cut a very fine slit into the wood of his walking cane, running his finger over the series of slices with sexual ecstasy. If anyone were to ever notice the cuts and ask about them, Randolph would tell them that it was a record of the number of years that the Lord Jesus had kept him from the demon drink.
And that sure was a lot of years.
Part 2: The Girl
Aileen Cross sat quietly in the truck stop café, finishing the last of her coffee. The remains of her fries lay cooling on the plate in a pool of watery tomato sauce. The plate had food crusted on the edge from yestermeals, which was almost enough to kill her appetite altogether.
She stood and stretched, ignoring the lustful looks from the predominantly male customers, and the insinuating queries as to whether she would like a ride with a REAL man, and invitations for her to come look at the size of Johnno’s big truck.
No thanks.
Aileen shrugged her backpack onto her shoulders and wandered out into the cool afternoon, walking in the opposite direction of the traffic flow on the one-way highway until she was out of sight of the café.
Traffic was a bit light-on, but she was confident she wouldn’t have to wait too long for a lift. In fact, here came a car now. A family-type sedan driven by an older gentleman with a kind face. She propped her hand on her hip to exaggerate her shapely body, and cocked her thumb. The driver pulled over onto the crunchy gravel at the side of the highway.
Part 3: The Journey
The journey ended here. A clearing off a fire trail that was only closed to those who took notice of gates and locks.
Aileen stood shivering in the open, her thin jacket no protection against the late afternoon. “I’m not taking my damned clothes off, you old pervert”, she managed to say through her clenched teeth.
Randolph smiled. “There’s fifty dollars you just took off me that says otherwise, honey. Just take your clothes off and turn around. I just want to look, that’s all.” His cane felt warm and ready under his sweaty hand. “There’s another fifty in it for you, if you do. Please, I’m begging you.” This couldn’t end now that he was so wound up and ready. And he was going to get the money back, anyway.
Aileen thought about it briefly, then shrugged. “Okay, another fifty, I strip off and turn around. But I’m only gonna be naked for five minutes. Right?”
Randolph nodded eagerly.
“Fine, then bring the money over here. I ain’t getting naked until I get the money.”
Randolph pulled the money out of his wallet and limped over to her.
Then the weirdest thing happened.
As he handed her the note, the girl punched him in the chest! Well that was completely uncalled for, was his surprised first thought. His second and subsequent thoughts faded into a grey dimness as he slowly folded to the ground, blood pumping from his chest. He bled out and died within minutes.
Aileen knelt and used Randolph’s shirt to wipe off the blade, before using it to carefully place a cut on her upper thigh. Another cut in a precise series of parallel cuts that decorated her leg. If anyone were to ask about those cuts, not that they usually survived that long, she would tell them that each line represented a scumbag that she had saved from going to jail.
And boy, that sure was a lot of scumbags.
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