The Haunted Traveler Vol 1 Issue 2

weaselpress

Kick in Halloween with the latest issue of The Haunted Traveler. We opened up and looked for the strangest and the most horrific tales from this universe, bringing them here in a single collection for the readers to get a little twisted. The Haunted Traveler is a horror and science fiction literary anthology that releases twice a year. Published through Weasel Press, the anthology seeks to roam around with the stories you'll never forget. Those dark little tales that are sort of etched in everyone. We love the dark and twisted and we really want to be scared. Check out our website to see when we're open next. The Haunted Traveler is a non-profit, Horror and Science Fiction anthology that accepts a wide variety of art media such as photography, short fiction, creative non-fiction, digital artwork and more.

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One of the advantages I realized much later

to dealing with a 10 foot tall spider is that they have

to think about it before they go through a door. Oh

they can fit just fine, but they have to scrunch up in

order to do so. And in the time they spend condensing

themselves down to fit, and actually going through the

delicate process of fitting; a human gains a surprising

amount of time. At the top of the stairs she caught up

to me. I felt her claws go through my shirt and I heard

ripping, which at the time could’ve been my clothes

or my skin. I didn’t care enough to find out though.

I leaped to the bottom of the staircase, and landed

on my feet in a crouch. If I hadn’t been so scared,

I would’ve been impressed. But there was no more

conscious thought. There was only fear. I sprang up

and out of the stairwell, positive that a massive spider

was going to impact right behind me; I mean after all,

If I could do it, she definitely could. Thankfully, the

stairs are narrow. I thought I’d be opening the front

door, and in so doing slamming it into the place where

her face should have been… but there was no concussion.

I vaguely remember thinking that was good; it

meant she wasn’t that close to me, and that I might not

lose an arm in the door from her closing it on me.

I got out of the house and I ran. I forgot all

about the car, there wasn’t time to get it out of the

garage. And I WAS NOT going into the garage, where

she could so easily trap me. I thought for just a moment

as I flew across the dividing line between our

driveway and the gravel road that perhaps she wasn’t

coming out after me. A fresh screech killed that idea.

But I kept running. Hoping and praying that I

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