This short story is part of a collection of 15 parables I have written called, Hearing Eyes, Seeing Ears. I am currently seeking a publisher.

He had a scruff about him, walking down I-25 in a full suit. That was odd enough, but then he was dragging behind him a rolling suitcase, you know, green with an expandable zipper and front pockets, the type airport security might search for toothpaste and stewardesses would have trouble shoving into an overhead compartment.

The highway’s shoulder was not in the least smooth—he pulled his suitcase over rocks, sticks, clumps of grass, wild flowers, gravel, and the summer dirt that surrounded in a cloud and turned his pants red.

Meanwhile, cars barreled past at 80 miles per hour, heading north, as he strolled south. He might have been making his way to the airport, out in the middle of nowhere on the south-easterly side of town, though Lords knows he missed his plane.

Actually, now that I think of it, I do not think he wanted a ride. He did not stand waving at the traffic with his thumb out. He did not even glance at the cars flying past. Instead, he kept plodding forward, one foot in front of the other, one tug after another, toward that horizon line up ahead.

I like to imagine him at the end of the road. He finally stops his tired feet and lays his suitcase down, its green pockets staring up at the heavens. Then he bends with his hands on his knees and sits on top of it. He unties his laces and takes off each dusty shoe. Then he lies back, shuts his eyes, and falls asleep.

But until he gets there, to that long-imagined rest, I know that cars will pass by break-neck, while he trudges along, everyday moving, every day alive. He will not be kept for anything.

© 2014 Elizabeth Charlotte Grant

4 thoughts on ““Hitchhiker”

  1. Wow, Liz! You are an amazing writer. We really love your storytelling. Sign us up for purchasing your books when they come out. I mean it! Lis Song

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