Sock

I just like the style of this peice, I just stumbled apon while reading all the stories on my computer. Wasn't sure what to do with it. Any suggestions?


Sand fluttered aimlessly around Paul’s feet, causing accumulations of sand to form in the crannies of his corduroy pants. The sun glared down on him milking sweat from his beet red skin. He wiped his brow and took a swig of the bulky canteen that was tethered to his belt with twine.

A small red convertible grew visible in the distance, swaying in the heat. He placed his lips on the spout of the canteen and gulped down another mouthful of water. Paul picked up his back pack, which was resting on a near by rock and returned to his post at the side of the road.

The car hopped over the caked road, diving in and out of pot holes and swerving to avoid scattered rock and mud clumps. The car took shape as it neared, the steel grate grinning at him. Paul eased his way onto the road fanning his arms wildly. The dull buzz of the engine soon became a screaming roar. The car squealed relentlessly, destroying a series of mud clumps and coming to a rough stop no less than twenty yards before Paul.
A mans head emerged from the car, resting his hands on the top of the windshield. Paul hastily advanced on the car.

“Well are you comin’ our aintcha?”

Paul’s slow stagger merged into a walk, then into a jog. Paul was relieved to find the man grinning happily as he Paul approached. He was an obese man, his thin hair damp with sweat. He wore a light gray suit over a black dress shirt, studded with white buttons. “Hop on in boy!” He hollered, slipping back down into the driver seat. Paul threw himself into the back seat of his car pulling his bag in after him. He was barely seated before a felt the powerful capability of the car throw him backwards. With the same familiar squeal, the car was slicing down the road, blurring the surrounding.

The portly driver cocked his head backwards to have a look at Paul. “I’m Boris, but most folk just call me Bo!” he said extending his sweaty hand out to Paul. He gripped it and Bo shook enthusiastically. “You must be hitch hikin’…” Bo thought a moment, “East!” He added in delight.

“Yes sir, I am.” Paul said quietly.

“What woulda’ fella like yourself go by?”

“Paul, Paul McCormick.” Paul said straightening his posture.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet your acquaintance Mr. McCormick. Now may I inquire how one gets in such a situation as yourself Paul?”

“What do you mean?”

“Walking down the Valle Del Rio in one hundred degree weather all on your lonesome!”

“Car troubles about, ten miles back…” Paul explained.

“That white little German job?” Bo asked.

“Yah, you saw it?” Paul asked.

“Yap... real mess if I do say so myself, lucky to be alive these on these goddamn roads!” Bo was oblivious the irony of this statement as he barrowed down the endless stretch of road, his bumper occasionally slamming to the ground in the depth of a pot hole. Paul was now coming to the realization that Bo, in all his charm and exuberance, was immensely intoxicated. He was past buzzed, past tipsy he was full blown shit faced.

The car continued to fly down the lonely dessert road, leaving all hope far, far behind. In desperate hopes to shadow the crude reality Paul went on to inquire, “So, Bo… what are you doing in the Del Rio Valle?”

“Let’s just say I’m in transports!” Bo hollered in a drunken slur, swerving once more, “Another way of saying it would be to say my trunk is stuffed with eight pounds of pure grain Mexican Ganja!” Bo added carelessly.



The car was not moving, this was a fallacy. It was the world that was moving, Bo was merely trying to keep up.

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At least I think... so...

Raging_Hopeful

It was difficult for me to visualize sand fluttering... and beet and wiped are the words you are looking for.

I really liked your description of Bo, I could see him very clearly as a character and it was effective. Well done

Haha, I loved the twist at the end and I think this could be a great beginning to a story! You should definitely go back and expand upon this piece. Keep writing!

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Sock

ha, Thanks. Yah, sorry about the spelling. I'll fix that and keep working on this. I would like to expand on it because I like the setting and the character 'Bo'.

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At least I think... so...

Olindila

I liked the traditional style this has. Maybe a few too many cliches in the first paragraph though. You might want to watch out for those. I definitely agree that you should continue on this piece, it has excellent potential.

__________________
Oh! Tell me it doesn't matter to you!
The more you speak the sooner you'll find there's nothing left to say.
There's always more than one way to say exactly what you mean to say.

Yumsa

well, the whole thing was good, but the last sentence, could maybe be a trailing one, so there is some uncertainty in it, and maybe you can talk about how this man got here, Paul, and wat happens afterwhen he is done hitchiking

Sock

As much as Paul hated to admit it, he was amazed. Paul loved to believe that he had every one figured out, even himself...

Paul had figured Bo was on his way to a convention for Bible Salesmen but as the fact began to roll out Paul realized this was far from correct.

And as the truth became clear, the panic became much more sever and blinding. Paul was now aware of Bo's trip.

"Ya see boy... you obviously haven't a clue about the mass sums of money that are made in the drug running business!" Bo said, reaching into the front pocket of his jacket pulling out a flask. It glimmered in the sunlight for a moment before her popped the cap as if it were the pin of a grenade. He then poured a mouthful of whiskey into his mouth,"You see, I normally wouldn't be doing this sort of hogwash!" He struggled to say, tilting his head back to keep the whiskey in his mouth, "Ganja I mean... Yah see Cocaine is my area of expertise and a rarely venture into the unknown..."

Some how Paul didn't believe Bo when he said he didn't travel into the unknown.

"But, yah see... This particular batch of goodies was bestowed upon me in the most fortunate manor and I would have been a goddamn fool not to except it!" One last swig finished of the contents of the flask. Bo tossed it carelessly out of the car, sending it colliding with pavement.

"I was in Rio; I was making a routine pick up, drop off kinda deal..." Bo looked back at Paul, slightly wondering if he was still there. "Now this client is a great, great guy. Columbian named Laszlo! When I drop of the money, he gives me the dust! But this time he says "Boris... I like you! I want you to sample this and tell me how you like it..." Bo said in a phony Columbian accent. "But I do not taste I sell, Paul, sell is what I do and sell is what will be done!" Bo cheered turning back to face Paul, his eyes beaming in the sunlight.

"So why did you come to the Valley?" Paul said, his voice crackling. He then realized how silent he had been.

"I have a client in Del Rio who would be throughly impressed by this quality, high grain cargo. And would make me a bundle of dough!" Bo's voice was fueled by exuberance. "Paul your a nice boy and I think that you would find this man rather appealing and profitable! The experience will be beneficial... I will see to it!" Bo suggested.

Paul was once again completely caught off guard, his face drawn blank and expressionless. Paul was trying to hack this bombshell down to a more conceivable tid-bit of information.

"You can come with me to Del Rio and watch my back. My something came up with my usual partner and I hate to go into business alone... so how about it Paul?"

"Um..." Paul swallowed deeply. Bo looked back and smiled.

"I said it would be profitable son..."

Paul thought a moment. "Sure..." His words seemed to move faster than his head and before he could realize what he was into, it was too late. Buy the ticket, take the ride. The car plummeted towards Del Rio. It seemed as though they were traveling faster then before, even though Bo had being flooring the pedal the whole time. Paul climbed to the front seat and braced himself.

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At least I think... so...

Sock

Not as long as the begging, still not done yet. But I have an ending ready. Probably only one more chapter... Maybe two more.

This chapter seems thrown together and not as detailed as the first should I revise and add more detail?

Also I am aware that there is no back ground for Paul, I have an idea for this also, it will arise in the fallowing chapters.

I am not "chaptering" this because it is a novel or anything, just because I wrote the sections at different times.

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At least I think... so...

Olindila

I don't think the less of description mattered much, but if you want to keep consistant I would go back and add more.

I believe that you could just leave Paul a mystery throughout the story. I don't think you really need to give a background on him. If you do I think the background would fit nicely in this story if it were told in the form of flashbacks.

Otherwise, can't wait to hear more!

__________________
Oh! Tell me it doesn't matter to you!
The more you speak the sooner you'll find there's nothing left to say.
There's always more than one way to say exactly what you mean to say.