The Haunted Traveler May 2017 Edition


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.


Shaytan is missing a leg and sits awkwardly on the

deck, bent at the waist, both hands curled around the

handle of a lime green, blood covered chainsaw; the

machine’s teeth throw aside the leftovers of Raven’s

arm—flesh and bits of bone, the blood hot and wet

against my face, and I am a ghost beneath endless rows

of harsh, fluorescent lighting.

Mannequins stand above me in long rows, stiff and

prudent…questioning (drenched in red with parts

missing and cries without form, deafening through

every pore), and the star, desperate and singular in its

depth, explodes frantic with the endless shades, colors

and rhythms penned daily in my journals.

Dr. Sawyer by my side, classic in her navy V-neck

vintage print dress and tortoise shell-rimmed reading

glasses, instructing me to use journal entries as a private

means of documenting my inner most thoughts.

Rating = 7

Shaytan’s finger remains pressed against the trigger

of the saw, eyes milky white orbs set deep into the

abyss, and his smile the colored stitching of tossed

aside fabric. Nigel sits cross-legged on a pallet of plywood,

covered in blood and delighting in it all—the

screams, the laughing, the dismembered mess that is

Raven and Shaytan.

Silence follows. Nigel’s hair is damp and matted

on one side; when he turns his head, I see his fingers

exploring the opening where an ear was recently attached.

Raven is pale from blood loss, and her face is

shaped into a child’s pout.

“Too much fun?” she asks.

Niles turns and looks at Shaytan, who’s busy collect-

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