The Haunted Traveler Vol. 2 Issue 1

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other shard of glass.
Moke screamed. His voice had the tone of a ten-yearold
child running from the boogie man.
Judge Kichida banged on his gavel. “Stop this, now!
Bailiff! Bailiff!”
Mano the Bailiff had already shot to action, however,
moving to assist his injured brother. Billy picked up another
piece of glass and threw it, hitting Michael in his left eye.
Blood spattered everywhere. Michael screamed, holding his
eye, and wailing his free arm wildly.
“Ster-rike two,” Billy said.
Billy's mother and his sisters screamed for him to
stop. Hearing their voices would do no good because the
undead would only obey the voice of the necromancer who
raised him or her.
“Billy stop,” I said, calmly.
He looked at me, and I swear for an instant, it looked
like it pained him to stop, like he was about to cry for not
letting me allow his revenge. I agree that revenge is a drink
best served cold, but this tall order of irony on the rocks had
to stop.
“Put down the glass, Billy,” I said.
His small ghostly fingers released the triangular shard
of glass, allowing it to smash into smaller pieces.
I walked toward him. “Are those three the ones who
killed you? Moke, Michael, and Petey? They killed you?”
Billy didn't answer. He just nodded.
I had to make sure. “All three?”
Billy nodded again, and fell to the floor, trying to put
the pieces of the globe together.
“Billy,” I said, lifting his chin for his eyes to meet
mine. “Not your father? Your father didn't kill you?”
“Dad, innocent,” he said. “Mo...Mike...Pete killed
me.”
The girls cheered, and ran over to hug their father.