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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76<br />
That night, after the neighbors had gone home and the rest<br />
of her family had retreated to their beds, Irene sat up in the<br />
front room and listened to her mother weep. <strong>The</strong> room felt<br />
too warm, and Irene stepped out onto the porch. A steady<br />
wind rolled down from the mountains, picking up strands<br />
of her hair.<br />
She drifted into the yard and circled around the house. In<br />
the dim moonlight, she saw the cemetery at the edge of the<br />
property.<br />
Irene told herself she was only going to use the privy, but<br />
once she was finished and standing in the darkness again,<br />
the cemetery latched onto her with an irresistible pull. She<br />
darted toward it, and before she could stop herself, Irene fell<br />
to her hands and knees on the fresh mound of dirt.<br />
“I’m sorry, Norman,” she sobbed, her fingers scrabbling at<br />
the earth.<br />
<strong>The</strong> wind strengthened, and Irene shivered in her nightgown.<br />
She sprawled out on the grave, her arms thrown wide.<br />
Worms and insects crawled through the dirt, seeking out<br />
the folds of her clothing.<br />
Irene pressed her ear to the earth and listened. At first she<br />
heard nothing but the wind sighing through the trees. But<br />
just as she began to doze, a new sound filled the night. Her<br />
eyes flew open, and she cupped a filthy hand to her mouth.<br />
Though it was muffled under several feet of dirt, the sound<br />
was unmistakable, one that Irene would never forget—two<br />
small lungs drawing in a rasping, watery breath.