Random Short stories i write

End of the road.

DO NOT COPY OR USE THIS STORY IN A NOVEL OF YOURS OR SUBMIT IT AS YOUR ASSESMENT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR??????

Ok.

----------------------------------------------------------

            

End of the road.

"Look out!" she cried, but it was too late.

The car swerved off the road, clashing with many cacti and tumbling down large sand dunes before finding its final destination with a loud grinding sound. They'd hit a rock.

Dry grass swayed in the humid breeze, long dead from the scorching heat. Bristly weeds tumbled down the dusty plains, a few colliding with stray cacti now and then. The blood red sand squelched beneath his feet. There stood a man, waiting for something to happen. His full on investigator's coat suggested an expedition, but the torn and worn edges of his clothing gave the sense he was possibly a hobo. A red bandana was tied around his face, with thick, dust-lathered goggles completing the look. He stood by the edge of the road, seemingly unaffected by the blazing sun yearning for rest to come when the moon took over. Sweat beaded on his brow, and trickled down his spine as he waited for another unsuspecting victim. He couldn't take off his coat; someone might recognise him. A body of a car lay behind him, beaten up and scraped, left to rot on the side of the road. The man had tried to hide it in grass, but failing miserably as with every attempt, the wind just destroyed his hard work and rewarded him with a wave of sticky sweat. He had raided the car's supplies, leaving the driver of the car inside, as not to disturb her resting place. His arm was tired and burnt, from holding his thumb up and pointed to the sky. He waited. And waited. After what seemed like almost a million years to the dehydrated and barely conscious man, an old, beaten up car came

He thrust his thumb up with more enthuse this time; all he wanted was to escape the burning sun. And this wreckage... he thought. The car began to slow, the driver recognising the mysterious stranger's attempt to get a ride out of this hellish wasteland. He began to swerve ever so slightly to the side, to let the stranger know he was going to help him. He should have known better. The car pulled up on the side of the road, and the driver cautiously inched the door open.

"Uh, umm, ah, sir? D-do you n-need a l-lift?" he questioned, oblivious to the fact that a killer stood a mere few feet away. He simply nodded in response, and nothing more. The man swung himself up into the front seat, next to the driver.

"S-so what brings y-you out here?" he stuttered. The man ignored him.

What's his problem?

"S-so, where you headed?"

No response.

"C'mon, if I'm driving you somewhere, at least can I know where y-you're going?"

Still no response.

The man gave up trying and hit the wheel in frustration. He sighed, and at the same time yanked at the wheel to avoid a crash. The driver was puzzled.

How could it be I'm nearly missing crashes when normally I'm the one who can drive properly?

The surroundings were breathtaking. Canyons and craters decorated the terrain, and scattered green, flowering cacti gave relief from the bright red sand that had stained both the car and their eyes. "Holy crap!" exclaimed the driver. "Ya don't see that every day, now do you!"

The man simply replied with a slight shake of the head. It was a lie. The stranger practically lived out here. No driver survived longer than a day with him in the car. He was a bad-luck magnet. Ladders fell and killed their holders, simply from his presence. Earthquakes were triggered by his touch, and billionaires lost all if they came in possession of money He had touched. And cars were driven off the road, when he was inside of them. He'd been imprisoned, and actually been grateful of his curse, as it brought bad luck to the guards who held him captive.

They were hit by a car.

The day was approaching an end. The driver's eyes were drooping and his limbs were shaking from lack of sleep. He hasn't died yet- no-one has made it THIS far before...

Still the driver's grip on the wheel didn't falter. Suddenly, the car slowed. The driver had fallen asleep. The stranger wove his hands around wildly, and twiddled with his fingers. Forming words from anger. Words with his hands. His rage shone through his wild actions, and the fact that in his rage he had slapped the driver in the face.

"You bastard!" he cried. The stranger stopped. He quickly recomposed himself and resumed his motionless state. The slap had woken the driver up, which was good. The slap had angered the driver, which was bad.

"So." The driver huffed. He sighed, and looked at the strange man with inquisition lacing his words and giving them an icy, yet curious touch.

"You gotta name?" The stranger hesitantly froze, then turned to the driver. He tried to use his hands, but the driver couldn't tell he was a mute. He sighed. "G-Gabriel" he whispered. The sound was so silvery and soft it was almost inaudible to the driver.

"Huh?"

"Gabriel" he repeated, this time with a little more confidence.

"Clarence. Nice to meet you Gabriel." Clarence looked content. Gabriel looked anxious. "Eyes on the road, Clarence." He whispered. Clarence simply nodded. Every second past caused the poor man's heart to skip a beat. His breathing was heavy. Cursed... The driver was suddenly worried. "Gabe, you don't look to good." He stopped the car. Gabriel groaned. "Sir I think we need a hospital." Gabe shook his head. "Stop...talking ..." he mouthed. The words squeezed out of his mouth, as if his mouth was restricting his words and his brain was draining his energy in an attempt to open his mouth. "Okay. Whatever fixes you." That was his mistake. The words he spoke angered the curse and caused Gabriel to suffer. The curse went from sneaky attempts to kill off Clarence to full-on fists to the face. The car swerved. Gabe looked at the driver. "Stray cacti." He grumbled. That angered the curse even more so. The car flew over rocks and the driver thumped his head against the car wall. He went unconscious. The car then made a dash for the nearest cliff, as if it were a plane on a runway. It flew.

Gabriel stood on the dusty earth, completely unharmed- compared to Clarence and his beaten up car, ka-splat at the bottom of the cliff- with his arm outstretched, his thumb strained to the heavens...

------------------------------------------------------------

Guys i dont know if i should be posting this or not, but im pretty sure i made myself clear before.

DO NOT COPY OR SUBMIT THIS STORY AS AN ASSESMENT OR AS YOUR OWN WORK.

I SPENT AGES ON THIS TO MAKE IT PERFECT.

PLEASE VOTE FOR THIS STORY FOR MORE.

I WILL ONLY POST THE NEXT STORY WHEN WE GET TO 5 VOTES.

AND TRUST ME IT I WORTH IT.

IT IS A GOOD STORY.

I SHOULD REALLY TURN CAPSLOCK OFF.

BUT WHY SHOULD I?

I AM JUST STALLING.

PROCRASTINATING.

WHATEVER YOU WANT TO CALL IT.

JUST DO NOT COPY THIS BOOK.