Creative Writing - The Vanishing HitchHiker

"It's like traveling with the vanishing hitchhiker," Miran said, as his hand clenched the steering wheel. He watched the traffic with a steely gaze that told Soliva he was holding something back. Wind buffeted the car out of the lane as they drove; she listened for a while in silence, absorbing the peaceful feeling of someone else being in charge. The fog began to creep up her window, and her mind wandered as she watched it. She loved the poignant sense of solitude the winter's coming brought. There was something virginal about the world just before the first snow; the sky and earth stretched out long and grey, and the trees stood bare and brave all about. Her mind stretched and felt the air beyond: still, cold and strong. Cars drove by, and she marveled at the fact that no one looked out the windows. Somehow, everyone had become disenchanted-- fixed on the road-- and no longer fascinated by the crystal spires that rose and fell formless on the glass before them.

"Do you have any idea who that is?" Miran pulled Soliva back to his world. She looked at him blankly for a moment, considering.

"No." She turned away.

"People pick him up, and they drive with him for hours. They look away for a minute, and he just disappears. They always find something left behind- a business card or a piece of paper with a phone number. When they call, the people they reach say the man who was hitchhiking has been dead for years. The hitchhiker was on the news this morning while we were eating breakfast. You were staring at the TV when they were talking! You don't remember?" His eyes moved between her and the road ahead. Soliva was still looking out the window.

"I'm here, Miran. Just thinking." Her body showed no signs of tension- she spoke without turning.

Something left Miran then, and he gave up. A mute, heavy feeling filled him as he looked ahead, seeing the future he was beginning to know he could never have. To him, she truly was his vanishing hitchhiker- quietly journeying with him in life for a short time. No pretense or possibility of staying.

He remembered the lonely call he'd once received from her aunt. She asked if he was in touch with Soliva, if he would ask her to call. He'd mentioned it many times, but his words seemed to travel though her. Someday, he knew it would be him calling one of her friends, a number from some scrap she'd left behind. He saw himself reaching out to those that trailed about her, those threads that seemed to fall harmlessly away as she passed on. Being her seemed so light.... so effortless. So fragile. He was terrified for her.

"I think it'd be nice to live like that." Soliva said suddenly. "I think I'd enjoy his life."

"You'd like to ride in stranger's cars all day long?"

Soliva looked at him, disappointed. "He moves. He exists to touch lives, to see their places. They give him kindness and he gives companionship. Nothing more. He's surrounded by the world and is allowed to just be. It's a beautiful way to live."

Miran stiffened, and a new sadness washed over him. He fixed his eyes on the road ahead and shivered involuntarily. Reaching forwards, he turned on the warm air, and the fog and ice cleared from the windows. Soliva sighed, and let herself slip away.

Keywords: