The Haunted Traveler Vol. 1 Issue 1

53
A Dead Sleep
Frank Morelli
It’s funny how twilight never bothers to sneak past the
boundaries of the canopy. As such, the two hikers fondled
their way through underbrush. They moved cautiously and
stopped often to untangle loose clothing from the clutches of
thorny vines, or to allow vulnerable eyes to adjust to rapidly
falling darkness.
The path had been abandoned hours ago and against Jason’s
better judgment. He was the level-headed one. The joys
of hiking were enough to keep him occupied without having
to search for additional thrills. For Devlin, however, the journey
was often not considered an adventure until you faced a
substantial element of danger.
“I don’t know where the hell we are,” Jason grumbled.
“What the hell’s a burial ground look like anyway?”
“What do you think it looks like?” Devlin was tired of the
bellyaching by now. “You never been to a cemetery before?”
“They’re Native Americans, Dev. You really think we’ll
stumble over a headstone or something? And even if we do,
what will we do when we get there?”
“Don’t you ever stop whining? If I wanted to hear this crap
I should have brought my little sister.”
“If I wanted to have any fun I should have stayed back
with your little sister.”
Devlin grabbed Jason by the collar and pulled him within
three inches of his face. “You better take that back right