The Haunted Traveler Vol 1 Issue 2
Kick in Halloween with the latest issue of The Haunted Traveler. We opened up and looked for the strangest and the most horrific tales from this universe, bringing them here in a single collection for the readers to get a little twisted. The Haunted Traveler is a horror and science fiction literary anthology that releases twice a year. Published through Weasel Press, the anthology seeks to roam around with the stories you'll never forget. Those dark little tales that are sort of etched in everyone. We love the dark and twisted and we really want to be scared. Check out our website to see when we're open next. 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.
Kick in Halloween with the latest issue of The Haunted Traveler. We opened up and looked for the strangest and the most horrific tales from this universe, bringing them here in a single collection for the readers to get a little twisted. The Haunted Traveler is a horror and science fiction literary anthology that releases twice a year. Published through Weasel Press, the anthology seeks to roam around with the stories you'll never forget. Those dark little tales that are sort of etched in everyone. We love the dark and twisted and we really want to be scared. Check out our website to see when we're open next. 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.
Create successful ePaper yourself
Turn your PDF publications into a flip-book with our unique Google optimized e-Paper software.
42<br />
wouldn’t feel what was obviously coming next.<br />
Hoping and praying that I wouldn’t feel the crushing<br />
weight on top of me. That I wouldn’t feel fangs<br />
as thick as my arms being jammed into my body by<br />
something truly inhuman...<br />
I can’t remember who I was crying for as I ran:<br />
her, our daughter, or myself. Even as something in<br />
the back of my mind registered that the screeches had<br />
shifted into something closer to human speech, I kept<br />
running. Even as I thought that I could make out what<br />
she was saying; I kept running. Even once it was my<br />
wife’s voice again, begging me to stop, pleading for<br />
me to let her explain… I kept running. <strong>The</strong> thought<br />
that at any moment she could slide out of bed, and into<br />
that form in order to devour me, body and soul kept<br />
me running. For the first time since we moved out<br />
here I wished to every deity I could think of that our<br />
neighbors lived closer; that someone; anyone could<br />
hear me screaming; or that they could pass by and see<br />
me.<br />
I lucked out when I hit the paved main road,<br />
in that a truck was coming. I stood in front of it,<br />
waving my arms, not looking at her as she must have<br />
been running toward me still; and waiting to see what<br />
would happen: Would she tackle me into the ditch,<br />
would the truck driver kill me; or maybe, just maybe,<br />
would he pull over and give me the chance to survive<br />
this? As luck turned out, it was the latter. Of course,<br />
he wanted to know what in the world I was thinking<br />
standing in front of his car; but he let me right in when<br />
I shouted at him that she was trying to kill me! He<br />
drove me straight to the police station. Isn’t that
Change language