Character Writing - The Hitchhiker

The motivation for the following stories was Roald Dahl's story ‘The Hitch Hiker’



The Lonesome Hitchhiker - By Cydney
I race down the lonely motorway stopping only to fill up my rusty old gas tank, the road’s wet and the slick surface makes it hard to steer, but I cope. The headlights from cars passing by shine in my face like spotlights and the branches from nearby powhutakawa trees grab at my wheels. The pebbles from the road jump up at my car, threatning to spoil my new paint job. 
Just as I change into fifth gear I notice someone standing on the side of the road under a kowhai tree. A dirty, gigantic suitcase in their hand. I’m about twenty feet away from him when I notice he’s wearing a woollen hat, a swanny draped over his shoulders, grey sweatpants and gumboots that almost reach his knobbly knees, His thin body casting a dark shadow beneath him.

He looks around as if he’s waiting for someone. I stop off and offer him a lift, “Cheers mate”, He says. I can easily tell by his accent that he’s Australian. As he hops into my car I notice he has a pocket knife with a kiwi print on the handle, “What’s that for?” I ask. He squints his beady little eyes and looks at me sternly, “Just in case someone tries to sneak up on me”, He says with a questioning tone of voice.
 I don’t know what it is, but there’s something  about this guy that sends a chill down my spine, maybe it’s his accent sounding so real that it’s almost fake. I reach out my hand “Chanelle Aroha”, I say cheerfully with a smile on my ivory skinned face. He slowly edges his hand towards mine, as he does I see his palms are cracked. He catches me staring at him and I quickly look away in embarrassment “The name’s Johnny”, he says and grins widely at me picking up his pocket knife!

The Hitchhiker - Ben
I was standing on the side of the dirt road with my thumb up. I had managed to find the road, after my mission had gone terribly wrong and I had taken a bullet to the middle of my shoulder. I managed to take out two people before I was compromised.

I had my long combat jacket on with long baggy sleeves. Sewed onto my hat, was my commando badge. I had my camouflage pants on with their big pockets. I am average height. One shoulder was hanging down because of my wound. I have a massive scar down my face, starting at my eye socket, right to my jaw, from an old knife wound. I have black boots on, I have a Maori tattoo on my arm and have my knife on my belt and a gun slung over my shoulder.

I see a kiwi convey coming over with a gunner sticking out of the roof. The gunner shouts; “Hello mate”.   I reply “Kia Ora”.  As I wonder over to the vehicle, noticing ‘KIWI’ Sprayed onto the door.  

My kiwi dog tags clatter against the door as I get in. Just as we start to roll down the Desert Road, the driver asks “How’s your shoulder”  I say “hunky dory, mate!”. The driver replies “what’s your name?” “Kahu” I reply.

As we drive down the road a tumble weed flicks up and hits the windscreen. I think about home: the Pōhutukawa trees, my blue and black swanny hanging on my bedroom door, my mud covered gumboots, fantails landing on my jandals.  Ahhh..

I can’t wait to get home…
Well done Ben.
Ben’s writing made it onto the school newsletter.



The Hitch Hiker -  By Adam
I was lightly pressing my bare foot on the accelerator of my Toyota Hilux as I was steadily cruising along the Desert Road. I was munching on a delicious piece of toast covered in marmite, which stung the ulcer on the side of my tongue. I was embracing the amazing view of Mount Ruapehu, listening to the sound of Dave Dobbins Greatest Hits.

Up in the distant mist I see a dark shadow of a man with his thumb out. As I approach the figure he comes into view.
He is a tall Maori man about 6’3, holding a can of L&P and some food that looked like it was from a hangi. He was very muscular and his hair was black, thick and shiny. The man was wearing raggy, brown shorts and a blue and blue and black flannel that blew around in the harsh wind. He also had big black gumboots with the All Blacks logo printed on the side.
I started to slow down to pick him up when I saw a pistol poking out from his pocket. Before the man had time to put his thumb down I was off like a speeding bullet into the sunset. WHEW!

The Hitch Hiker. - Amy.

It was a calm hot day,  at least 28 degrees outside. I was cruising in my sky blue metallic Chevy Impala. The speed I was going at made the dirt fly out the sides of the car, as I was on a dirt track. Pohutakawa trees zoomed past my windows. The fields were full of sheep, munching on the luscious green grass. I was whizzing around a tight corner when I noticed the hitch hiker.
The hitch hiker was a small little girl. She looked like a 12 year old. Her face was round and scratched. Her eyes were as dark as a storm and were the size of kiwifruits. Her hair was a caramel brown and was shoulder length. Her dark brown and green clothes were soaked and ripped. She wore a beautiful bone carving shaped like a koru around her short neck. There was a worried look on her face that was almost frightening.
I stopped beside her, and she starts crying! “Its okay.” I said. “I’m lost! I need a lift to my house that is miles away!” she cried out. “I’ll take you, where do you live?” I asked. “In Pukerua Bay.” she replied, still sobbing a little she carefully climbs into the back.
“So tell me, what’s your name?”
“Moanna.”
“What are your hobbies?”
“I love playing outdoors and draw lots of native trees, which are usually filled with fantails. I also like making silver fern huts.” she cheerfully said.
I think Moanna had gotten over the fact that she was lost in this farmland area. I carefully started to unwrap a Whittakers milk chocolate bar and I can already hear Moanna’s stomach rumbling like an earthquake. I decide to give Moanna the bar, which she scoffed down in one bite


The Hitchhiker - By Kaea

As I was zooming along the highway in my brand new Aston Martin, bright green with heated leather seats, radio pumping at full blast, red plated mags and a top speed of 230kmph. In the distance I see a faded object. I quickly slow down with my foot slammed on the brake thinking that it was a police man.
“I don’t want my slick car taken away from me” I whisper to myself. However, when I got closer it was a hitchhiker and since I was in a relaxed mood I decided to pick him up.
He was lazing there next to the road with a sign saying Taupo. 
I pulled up next to him.
He got up like an old man without his walking stick ‘SLOW’
 I wind down the window and in a chilled manner he says “nice ride, you going Auckland”
“That just happens to be where I’m going, jump in” I reply.
He had a beard like a birds nest, long black dreads, some sylish glasses, a maori design on his right arm and a t-shirt that looked 100 years old.
He wore a pair of black jeans with a leather patch, sole slippers, a Rasta Bennie that was to big for him. He was holding a bag that looked like it was filled to the brim with stuff.
He smelt like he came from the drug store. I think he was Jamaican, he had huge muscles like a WWE wrestler and I think that he was kinda high.  



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