The Haunted Traveler Vol. 1 Issue 1
Welcome to the first issue of The Haunted Traveler; a roaming anthology seeking to collect the strange and the wild stories that we all carry. Those words hidden in the deep dark that linger around. Weasel Press is proud to have released this first collection of material and is excited to do more anthologies in the future. The Haunted Traveler is a non-profit, Horror and Science Fiction anthology that accepts a wide variety of art media such as photography, short fiction, creative non-fiction, digital artwork and more. Our anthology publishes twice a year. To find out more information about our submission process, please review our submission guidelines. Our first issue was released on March 28, 2014 and we couldn’t be more excited to feature the explosive talent that has been submitted to us. Our idea is to have an anthology roaming around parts of the world with a collection of frightening and strange stories; a mysterious anthology with a collection of ghosts.
Welcome to the first issue of The Haunted Traveler; a roaming anthology seeking to collect the strange and the wild stories that we all carry. Those words hidden in the deep dark that linger around. Weasel Press is proud to have released this first collection of material and is excited to do more anthologies in the future. The Haunted Traveler is a non-profit, Horror and Science Fiction anthology that accepts a wide variety of art media such as photography, short fiction, creative non-fiction, digital artwork and more. Our anthology publishes twice a year. To find out more information about our submission process, please review our submission guidelines. Our first issue was released on March 28, 2014 and we couldn’t be more excited to feature the explosive talent that has been submitted to us. Our idea is to have an anthology roaming around parts of the world with a collection of frightening and strange stories; a mysterious anthology with a collection of ghosts.
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23<br />
voice almost a whisper.<br />
I nodded. And altering my voice to fit the description I<br />
gave, I said, “‘I’m lonely, so very lonely. Please come to me.<br />
Please.’”<br />
Annette’s hands tightened in to fists. “That couldn’t have<br />
happened that way,” she croaked.<br />
“But it did,” I coolly answered.<br />
“What did you do?” Paul asked.<br />
“It’s not my time,” I told her.<br />
“Nothing else?” Bruce questioned.<br />
“Far out at sea the sky suddenly lit up and for a fraction of<br />
a second I saw my father; and I knew when my time to die<br />
came, he would come for me. I would see him.<br />
Annette slammed her two fists down on the table. “Someone<br />
told you,” she shouted, bolting up and drawing the attention<br />
of everyone in the dining room to our table. “Someone<br />
told you about my brother.”<br />
With my face a mask, I looked at her.<br />
“Annette, such experiences are not uncommon,” Bruce<br />
said gently.<br />
“Don’t you understand,” she practically screeched, “he<br />
made it up. He told a story.”<br />
Bruce looked at me.<br />
Unflinchingly, I met his gaze. “My sister died in nineteen<br />
sixty-five,” I said.<br />
Annette shook her head. “He made it up. My brother–”<br />
<strong>The</strong>n, she sat. And putting her hands in front of her face, she<br />
wept.<br />
I felt sorry for her. I had broken her, or at least had broken<br />
a part of her. I lifted my eyes to the window. In the gray folds<br />
of the fog I saw the image of my sister. She was smiling.