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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hands that have stretched themselves long as they lay flat on<br />
the cushion, and he lowers club-like snout to the blade before<br />
whispering out his prayer to god and ancestor. For he must<br />
curry favor with Lord Yig or face death in the sands. “Lord<br />
Yig, watch over your humble servant, who has never before<br />
shed blood that ran cold. <strong>The</strong> world is large and wicked, and<br />
without You, my only Master Yig, I will surely be lost to the<br />
sands. Let Your taloned hand be my guide, Your limitless<br />
tail my shield and path, and help me save those I care about<br />
from the whip and the shackle. To You, I plead, and may the<br />
winds ever favor You.”<br />
All he says is true, my friend. <strong>The</strong> world is hostile, and My favored<br />
line believe that only through Me—only through You—<br />
can they live long and comfortably, with a whole harem at their<br />
beck. But what they fail to understand, mortal god, is that You<br />
are only a mystery, a figment of the cosmos as distant as the end<br />
of the universe. You do not care about Pofiri, do You? You do<br />
not care about his life, his death, his quest, for You are here and<br />
he is there, across a gulf that is impenetrable—a river without<br />
a ford, black as black can get. You cannot help him. But You<br />
can watch. It is all We can ever do.<br />
Pofiri’s head remains over the weapon of his father, praying<br />
silently after begging for Yig’s blessing on his journey until<br />
Tiri returns with a long fabric bundled in her arms and a<br />
vicious snarl flickering at the corner of her mouth, displaying<br />
her displeasure at this sudden and unannounced quest.<br />
Though she knows that Pofiri would never, and has never,<br />
done something without profound thought as far as warriors<br />
are concerned, her ignorance concerning his plot drives her<br />
to a fury she has rarely felt even when she was driven to the<br />
cushion in the brothels. “I have your shirya, my Lord,” she<br />
says with a low voice, her eyes crossed evilly as she stares<br />
him down without fear.<br />
Pofiri lifts his head from the cushion and stands up with-