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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72<br />
Death Rattle<br />
Miranda Stone<br />
Irene breathed in the scent of freshly cut wood. <strong>The</strong> little<br />
chestnut coffin holding her younger brother sat in the<br />
middle of the front room. Norman, not yet four years old,<br />
lay in the box with his hands folded over his chest. As Irene<br />
gazed down at his face, she thought he wore a faint frown, as<br />
though he found the scene around him bewildering. He was<br />
dressed in a pristine white shirt and matching pants, made<br />
by the skilled hand of Mrs. Howard. All evening, neighbors<br />
had appeared at the door with offerings of food and words of<br />
comfort. Now it was close to midnight, and only the family<br />
remained.<br />
Stella and Agnes, Irene’s younger sisters, huddled on a<br />
bench that had been carried in from the kitchen. <strong>The</strong>y wept<br />
and wiped their faces with stained handkerchiefs. Irene’s<br />
older brother Russell stood near the door. Occasionally he<br />
slipped out onto the porch to smoke. Now he met Irene’s<br />
stare and averted his eyes. Grief carved sharp lines into his<br />
face, and he swayed with exhaustion. Earlier in the day he<br />
went with their father to the small family cemetery behind<br />
the house, and with the help of a few neighbor men, they dug<br />
Norman’s grave.<br />
Irene’s mother knelt by the coffin, her hands folded under<br />
her chin as she prayed. She was a stout woman, and her hair<br />
was drawn into a severe bun at the back of her neck. <strong>The</strong><br />
dress she wore had once been black but was now so faded it<br />
was the same color as the dark gray mountains surrounding<br />
their house.