The Haunted Traveler Vol. 2 Issue 1

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12 me speaks about, “ashes to ashes, and dust to dust.” I think about death as a momentary spasm of life begotten through sex and lust. I think about death as I place formations of rocks and floral arrangements around the tombstones of those who are deceased, respecting the wishes of family members who pay for the upkeep to remain as pretty and pristine as possible. I think about death when I hear the numbers sixty-three (the number of men I killed at war), eighteen (the number of loved ones and friends who have been taken from me), or two hundred and twenty-nine (the number of graves currently under my care). I think about death as number two hundred and thirty is brought to me after the embalming treatment is completed. I think about death because of rats and owls and mountains and rivers and cancer and championships and wounded warriors and glorious works of art and awful paintings and sea urchin and asteroids and money and miracles and collection plates and babies and old women and hospitals and sickbeds and blood and holidays and birth and abortion and fear and battlegrounds and territories and plant consciousness and molecules and hydrogen bombs and luxuries and ghettoes and crosses and commandments and hope and despair and liars and honest men and scorpions and bluebirds and gleaming gold and manufacturing facilities and silver linings and green grass turning brown and fish eating their young and sarcophaguses and caverns and ritualistic ceremonies and holy signs and weddings and funerals and music and laughter and literature and wine and nature’s whims and karma’s balance and past mistakes and future promises and worms and soil and dirt and grime and the stench of rotten flesh and the perfume of blooming spring flowers and viruses and infections and diseases and sickle cell anemia and black-hearted hypocrisy and the powerful and the weak and the flock and the sheep and the recently passed and the long forgotten and cold shoulders and warm embraces and hatred and love. I think about death because all these things lead toward it. I think about death because, on a cool morning in September, I got up from off my knees after arranging a bouquet of roses and noticed a family about fifty yards away gathered closely together near the gravesite of the seventy-seven year old woman I had recently buried. I think about death because I plucked one red rose from the plot where I stood and carried it with me as I approached the family. I think about death because they all wept as I offered my condolences. I thought about death as I approached the youngest of the children, a little girl who appeared to be around six years old, who was
sitting off to the side, away from the rest of her family. I thought about death as I bent down and handed the rose to the girl after she had stopped picking around in the grass for bugs and noticed me. I thought about death as I said, “This is for you, dear. I’m sorry about your grandmother; I’m sure that she loved you very much.” I thought about death as the girl’s eyes grew wide and she smelled the flower. “Thank you. It’s very pretty,” she told me. I thought about death as I stood back up, tipped my hat, started to turn away and replied, “It is very pretty. And it is dying as we speak.” 13
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Page 5: ULA by G.N. Boorse Pgs. 68-73 The M
Page 8 and 9: 6 Going to Eat You — Chlo’e Cam
Page 10 and 11: 8 I think about death in the gravey
Page 12 and 13: 10 were those which I now used to p
Page 16 and 17: 14 Late-night drive gwendolyn kiste
Page 18 and 19: 16 It’s a nightmare. Nothing more
Page 20 and 21: 18 “I know.” The tire iron’s
Page 22 and 23: 20 you wish to cavort with the poet
Page 24 and 25: 22 You shake off a shiver, sniff th
Page 26 and 27: 24 Drive Alyssa Roseman The world i
Page 28 and 29: 26 “Alright, that’s it. Remembe
Page 30 and 31: 28 Then, the bus rolls over the bar
Page 32 and 33: 30 a young woman about a head short
Page 34 and 35: 32 breakroom etiquette G.E. Smith A
Page 36 and 37: 34 “A little wham-bam, thank you,
Page 38 and 39: 36 Silent Night Searska Greyraven S
Page 40 and 41: 38 reminding me of my marmoreal moo
Page 42 and 43: 40 Midnight feedings donald jacob u
Page 44 and 45: 42 A matter of perspective r.k. gol
Page 46 and 47: 44 waited with his hands folded on
Page 48 and 49: 46 black eye and blood stained teet
Page 50 and 51: 48 utes.” Pepper could feel Diego
Page 52 and 53: 50 opened his door. Pepper shook hi
Page 54 and 55: 52 burning liquid. “I’ll catch
Page 56 and 57: 54 pox to Native Americans. Clenchi
Page 58 and 59: 56 breakfast for everyone. As Peppe
Page 60 and 61: 58 of their regular home in the cit
Page 62 and 63: 60 the sound he heard in shells at
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62 slammed shut forever. All for hi
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64 at established periods, apparent
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66 he leaned forward to peer into t
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68 ula g. n. boorse I remember when
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70 Usually He just sings it to me,
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72 “Not in my house, Mike! Stop t
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74 The Mystagogue arthur staaz Ah,
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76 Don’t look so frightened, my d
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78 air through the arteries? Oh, we
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80 Alright, just a few more turns.
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82 said, watching her drive off. Bu
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84 “Right. I’m so scared. The t
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86 “Everyone at school has one, M
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88 used language, but she liked to
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90 a cold smile. Wendy screamed, bu
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92 hesitation on her friend’s par
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94 was as rare as Main Street traff
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96 like he had seen a ghost. No, no
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98 where the noise was coming from,
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100 But Marc Sweeney wasn’t going
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102 cleats. Before stepping back in
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104 Leaves Diane Arrelle Megan walk
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106 hate this place, I hate my enti
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108 “You got a deal,” Megan sai
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110 the swaying branches beat at he
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112 Dead Talk Ace Antonio Hall An u
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114 He slowly turned his undead foc
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116 Billy's father jumped up, scrap
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118 other shard of glass. Moke scre
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120 Freaky Leon Saul The mutants sh
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122 “Hey, Dad.” Automatically I
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124 *** “Hey check it out. Mumps.
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126 Brady blinked at me. His asymme
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128 white, glimmering arcs in the p
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130 Tossing off my beer, I followed
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132 the bone back and forth, emitti
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134 Definitely not with so much…v
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136 clothes. At some point a waxy,
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138 somehow Colin’s impending dea
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140 I knocked a glass of water off
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142 he worked. That was ludicrous,
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144 er-beaten. A few Romanian flags
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146 “Good evening,” Alexandru r
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148 Women. Alexandru listened close
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150 brain ached. A wave of nausea c
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152 it got worse, and they were des
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154 ded along, each one featuring a
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156 dark passage john w. dennehy Co
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158 until 6:30pm, almost the start
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160 Mathers. After taking a deep br
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162 smile grew wider, revealing dec
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164 open, and then fled into Busine
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166 began to wear at him. Mathers e
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168 safe in the dark andrea lorin O
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170 to bear. Little Lucy shook like
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172 Monster’s hands were much lar
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174 Biographies Diane Arrelle - Dia
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176 spent nine years sandwiched bet
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178 Arthur staaz - Arthur Staaz is
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180 Inevitable by Amy L. Sasser: Po
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The Haunted Traveler Vol. 2 Issue 1

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