The Haunted Traveler Vol. 2 Issue 1

upright in bed. In the beam of moonlight that cut diagonally
across that corner, Billy could see that Tom was holding a
baseball. He tossed the ball to Billy, happy to be rid of it.
The baseball’s size, shape, and weight felt familiar
to Billy’s hand, but the texture — cold and waxy — was off.
Billy turned the ball over. Even in the dim light, he recognized
the heart-shaped mark. The ball made a sickening
squishy sound as Billy dropped it to the floor.
Billy turned around and slowly backed up. By the
time he reached the side of his bed, Tom was already on his
feet. Tom reached under the bed and pulled out the one-half
of Billy’s broken homerun bat. He gripped his fingers tightly
around the blunt end, aiming the splintered point forward.
Billy held up the other half of the bat and gave his friend a
nod. Do or die, apple pie.
Side by side, the Warriors faced the window, the full
moon perfectly placed inside the round hole in the glass.
Keep your head in the game. A laugh escaped Billy’s
throat. Even under present circumstances he could appreciate
the expression’s irony, just as — outside his bedroom window
— the pale, white moon was eclipsed by a pale, white
face.
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