The Haunted Traveler May 2017 Edition

weaselpress

After a brief hiatus, The Haunted Traveler is back to bring you some of the best horror out there. Open up and tread with caution, the next scare is just a page flip away.

I reached the entrance, she had already crossed a dozen

yards into the open space. I risked a dash towards the

deepened darkness of shadows and waited for several

seconds. She had not noticed the burst of activity;

her focus was still held by whatever means or entity of

transfixion that guided her onward.

Upon entering what could be approximated as the

center of the clearing, she knelt down and touched

the dampened soil. The proportional beauty of her nakedness

was further accentuated by the untarnished

moonlight shining over her. A curvaceous, God-sculpted

form shone brilliantly like polished marble, while a

hair of stygian blackness punctuated her figure, culminating

in an almost surreal display of pure femininity.

From my enshrouded position, I could feel a sexual radiance,

an emission of lust-soaked intoxication vibrating

through the air.

She, by cognizance or natural metabolism, gave off

an allure beyond any other woman. My captivation

was soon dissuaded when, after a sudden and inhuman

cackle simultaneously resonated as a shriek of agony,

she threw back her head and began shoving worm-infested

clumps of soil into her mouth. Handful by handful

she forced the loam down her gullet, apparently in

desperate need to satiate some unnatural desire for the

consumption of earth.

There was a disturbing, inexpressible morbidity

about her actions, beyond just a general disgust at the

odd feeding. Dirt, mud, gravel, all have at some point

been consumed by tribes of more savagely-inclined

people, although neither her nor I could be described

as such. It was the primal, almost bestial manner in

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