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.

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feast on the flesh of th’ living, and forever be damned

on this Earth until th’ coming of our Lord.”

“What’s the point then?” I asked.

“Why do people even do it? They have nothing but

hope,” the groundskeeper whispered to me, “and that’s

dangerous.”

“I am a man without even hope,” I said.

“That’s even more dangerous.”

We both laugh nervously.

“So, is there some kind of blood ritual or something?”

We stayed at my son’s grave until the sun came up,

the old man told me of all the strange telling’s that have

surfaced over the years regarding the mysterious plot

of land. At the end of our conversation he said to me,

“Don’t be foolish now, boy. Go grieve the way a normal

man would.”

I am not a normal man. In fact, by the end of our conversation

I felt as though I had shed the flesh of man,

and had taken on the skin of a master necromancer. Of

course, I knew all about the haunted land even before

I planned to off myself. It’s all these hicks would talk

about when I first moved here.

“Stay away from the graveyard,” they would all say

super ambiguously, “mysterious things happen there.”

Nobody had details though, “Talk to the groundskeeper

if you want the real stories,” they all said. Now I

have. Now I know everything, everything I needed to

know.

The following midnight, I was standing in front of

my son’s grave, yet again. This time, I strutted with

intent through the previously intimidating iron gates,

and found myself quickly shoveling mound after

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