Mercy Ride (Prologue)

A young man named Beniah has been skating through life doing only the bare minimum. Realizing that he has nothing to show for his life, he sets out on the open road, hitchhiking across the globe.

       From what I could see in dimly lit cab of the 1987 Ford, the driver was a strong man; past being middle-aged, but not yet old, with bits of white interrupting the jet black hair on his head and beard. He had a strong build, and the expression on his face suggested an even stronger mind. Judging from the smell hanging in the air, he smoked. Heavily. His jacket was in dire need of repair or replacement, but I highly doubt it had crossed his mind to take care of that. Strewn across the floor were several beer cans, mixed in with several old receipts and an empty anti-freeze bottle. Despite the back country feel of the truck and it's driver, It's better than walking. There is one thing that I cannot forget; this temporary shelter may only take me so far.

       “We're bout' 20 miles from town.” announced the driver, waking me from me from my stupor.

       “Alright.” I replied. “Take me as far as you wish.” Lazily, I stared out the window, trying to identify what I could of landscape that passed by. We were on a long, straight, monotonous road with little change in terrain. The grass spread almost as far as the eye can see, and to the east, I could make out the silhouette a mountain range against the earliest morning light.

       About a half hour later, buildings started to appear. Just a few farm houses dotting the plains at first, but then they began to grow in number and in size. Before I knew it we had reached a town, complete with a post office, several storefronts, a motel or two, and a decently large library. It wasn't the smallest of towns, but it was nowhere near being a city.

       “Any place in particular you want to go?” said the driver, once again breaking the silence.

       “Anywhere is fine.”

       With a nod, he pulled over to the sidewalk. I got out, and grabbed my bags from the back, and returned to the open door.

       “I can't thank you enough for the ride, sir.” I said, a smile on my face.

       "No problem. Just take care of yer'self, ya' hear?”

       “Will do.”

      As I watched him drive off, I thought to myself about how it was the end of a tale that has repeated itself over and over again. Just like the many times before, someone had the heart to stop and give me not money or food, but they gave me a few miles to forget about. My name is Beniah Wilson. I'm a hitchhiker, and this is my story.

Reviews

[BellaC21]

A agree. Don't stop writing now. I want to know what is going to happen and where he ends up. The description is good and the the characterisation thus far is strong.

BellaC21

[JohnB]

Makes me want to read more; excellent premise and situationally very descriptive.

[Samuel Dickens]

This sounds like a good beginning. It's well-written. Good descriptions. Don't stop now.