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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75<br />
night air cooled her feverish skin. She raised her head and<br />
spotted Russell in the yard, pacing slowly as he held Norman.<br />
Irene slumped onto the top porch step. Behind her in the<br />
house, her mother continued to scream, while before her,<br />
Russell moved back and forth, sometimes staggering as he<br />
fought to stay awake. Norman’s head rested on Russell’s<br />
shoulder, his little suit shining a pale ivory in the weak light<br />
of the half moon.<br />
*****<br />
Irene stood in the cemetery, staring at the haphazard rows<br />
of large field stones which served as memorials to bodies<br />
buried deep in the earth. <strong>The</strong> preacher clutched a tattered<br />
Bible as he stood at the head of her younger brother’s grave.<br />
Norman’s body was buried facing east, as was custom.<br />
Irene glanced at Russell. He struggled to hide his trembling<br />
lips, and he held his eyes wide so the wind could dry<br />
his unshed tears. Stella and Agnes stared at the wooden box<br />
nestled at the bottom of the grave. <strong>The</strong>ir eyes were dull and<br />
glassy in their wan faces.<br />
Her mother and father stood together near the preacher.<br />
Neither made a sound as they lowered their heads. Irene<br />
couldn’t read her mother’s expression, but she saw the livid<br />
purple bruise darkening her right cheek. From the way<br />
her mother held her arms around her middle, Irene imagined<br />
there were many more bruises beneath her dress, hidden<br />
from sight. Neighbors formed a wide circle around the family,<br />
keeping a respectful distance.<br />
<strong>The</strong> preacher read several passages from the Bible and<br />
said a few prayers. <strong>The</strong>n the men began shoveling dirt onto<br />
Norman’s coffin. Irene clutched her throat, shaking with the<br />
effort to hold back her cries. Dr. Ward stood at the crowd’s<br />
periphery. Irene stared at him, her eyes pleading, but he never<br />
looked her way.