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.

76

We got all the chores done early, when dawn

broke. I wanted to keep us inside once the day really

started. I locked the door, and the windows remained

shut. It keeps the cold out. Susan played with her dolls

until nightfall, and I ushered her off to bed. Stephanie

stayed up with me a little longer, but as the moon rose

high, we both went off to bed as well.

It happened when I was sleeping. I heard the

noises first, the sound of glass breaking, and then the

footsteps. They were heavy boots, like Daddy’s, and

for a moment, I thought that he might be home. In that

couple minutes after I woke up, I thought that maybe

he decided to go through the window. But as I woke

up some more, I realized that it wasn’t him. I heard

Stephanie scream, and when I jumped out of bed, to

run and see, my bedroom door opened, and one of the

men was waiting.”

Jen stopped, and took her fingers from her lips.

She’d been chewing her nails again; accept she didn’t

have any left. They were bloody, and when she looked

up, blinking, Doctor Ryans sat across from her, cigarette

dangling from his lips. “It’s okay Jennifer. If you

need to pause, please feel free.” He took a drag from

it, and blew a cloud of smoke into the air. It danced

underneath the light. “This may be rough, but this type

of sessions, where you talk through what you think

transpired, helps to dismantle some illusions you may

have created.” The doctor often used words like that.

Illusions. Delusions. But she remembered what happened,

remembered what she became. She may not

ever forget it.

“I think I’m ready to keep talking.” She said,

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