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.

97

ing his missing limb. Raven kicks her arm to the side.

Niles sighs, “I think we went too far.”

“Again?”

Shaytan answers, “Yeah, I believe so.”

Confusion now, disorganized thoughts and the chaos

of figuring out which body parts belong to whom,

and my head is the pain of a thousand razor blades, and

the yellow paper with father’s handwriting is a damp,

crumpled up ball in my red hand. Light fades. The dark

noose tightens. I hear them, around me, whispering,

yelling. How it begins, always…each time. Fighting for

breath. My legs turn soft, and the world goes sideways.

Vison is shapes and a patchwork color wheel—

wanting to focus and clear away the blur—and there’s

a single voice bedside, soft and familiar. Questions I’ve

heard previous, what I know and feel.

What I believe.

Attempting to discover unison for expressing idea

with sound. Thoughts are fog and mist running on instinct

(letters becoming words becoming sentences

becoming answers).

The star is reborn and rests, patient in the knowledge

that I will again be unable to determine real from

fantasy.

Cute nurse wraps my left arm in bandages. Circles

of pink seep through the white felt. Cute nurse smiles

and exists the room. Mother stands in the hallway, her

face pale and weary. Tearful. Sadness. Doctors with

hands tucked deep into the pockets of their white

coats. Nurses’ station. Police officers (all turning in

unison, staring with their button doll eyes). I shiver as

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