The Curse of the Ghostly Marriage

The crimson wedding character dripped with fresh blood, winding down the wall and leaving behind dark, eerie stains. The chill in the air grew heavier, as if an unseen force was tightening its grip on the room.

Jamie and Sandra stared at the scarlet streak with a rising sense of dread.

Sandra bent down and helped the trembling woman up. She was still gasping for breath, her eyes unfocused, as if she had barely escaped the grasp of death. Jamie, meanwhile, scanned the room swiftly, searching for the source of the disturbance.

"This isn't right," Sandra murmured, her brows furrowed. "This isn't just a haunting—it feels like some kind of ritual…"

"A ghost marriage," Jamie said grimly, his voice tinged with an unsettling certainty. "The village legend is real."

Sandra fell silent for a moment, glancing at the deep strangulation marks on the woman's neck and the red rope on the ground. Her face darkened.

"If this is a ghost marriage, then the groom won't let her go so easily," she said in a low voice. "We need to get out of here—now."

Jamie nodded and reached for the woman. But the moment her fingers extended toward her, a sudden gust of wind howled through the room. The extinguished candles reignited on their own, their flickering flames casting long, distorted shadows.

A figure emerged from the swirling darkness at the door.

Black mist gathered, forming the shape of a tall man clad in an elaborate red wedding robe. His face remained obscured by the dense fog, but a pair of eerie green eyes gleamed coldly in the dim light.

"…The bride… is mine…"

The ghostly groom's voice was deep and slow, like a whisper crawling from the depths of the grave. Every word carried a suffocating chill.

The woman's body convulsed violently, terror filling her vacant gaze. Her lips trembled as if she wanted to cry for help, but before she could make a sound, a strangled whimper escaped her throat—

The red rope slithered like a living creature, coiling tightly around her wrist once more.

"No—!"

Jamie and Sandra lunged forward at the same time, grabbing at the rope. But the moment their fingers touched it, an unseen force slammed into them, sending them crashing against the wall. Pain exploded in their chests.

The woman's body grew rigid, her pupils dilated, her lips slightly parted. As if under some invisible command, she slowly rose to her feet. The red rope extended outward, pulling her step by step toward the ghostly groom.

"Damn it!" Sandra cursed, pushing herself upright despite the pain.

Jamie's eyes flashed with determination. She swiftly pulled a small porcelain vial from her pocket, popped off the cork, and flung a handful of black powder toward the ghostly figure.

The instant the powder touched the air, the shadow convulsed violently, letting out a guttural snarl. The red rope quivered, loosening just enough for the woman to stagger slightly, a sliver of clarity returning to her eyes.

"Get her out of here!" Jamie barked, throwing another handful of powder.

Sandra didn't hesitate. She yanked the woman free from the red rope's grip, hoisted her onto her shoulder, and sprinted toward the door.

But just as they were about to cross the threshold, the walls suddenly cracked apart.

Countless blackened hands clawed out from the gaping fractures, writhing and reaching, desperate to drag them back inside.

"Shit!" Sandra skidded to a halt, her eyes sharp with urgency.

Jamie reacted instantly, pulling out a yellow talisman from her bag. Biting her finger, she hastily scribbled a complex symbol onto the parchment.

"Begone!"

She slammed the talisman onto the doorframe.

At once, the paper ignited, bursting into golden flames. The spectral hands recoiled with ear-piercing shrieks, retreating into the crumbling walls. The room shook violently, as if the entire space was about to collapse.

The ghostly groom's form twisted wildly within the black mist, letting out an enraged wail.

Seizing the moment, Sandra bolted forward, carrying the woman out of the house. Jamie followed right behind.

—

BOOM—!

The wooden house caved in behind them, reduced to a heap of ruins. Wisps of black mist spiraled into the night sky, writhing as though unwilling to dissipate.

All three collapsed onto the ground, chests heaving, sweat soaking through their clothes.

At last, the air returned to its former stillness. The bone-chilling cold faded, and the distant drumbeats ceased.

The woman lay limp, staring blankly at the night sky, her lips trembling as if she still hadn't escaped the grip of terror.

Sandra exhaled a long breath and turned to Jamie. "What the hell… was that?"

Jamie remained silent for a moment. Her gaze fell upon the woman's wrist—the red rope had been severed, yet a faint black mark lingered, as if the curse had not yet entirely faded.

Her eyes darkened. "This isn't just a ghost marriage… It's a curse that has lasted for centuries."

"A curse?" Sandra frowned.

Jamie rose to her feet, scanning the desolate surroundings. Her voice was low.

"This village… has more than one ghost groom."

As soon as she finished speaking, a strange chime echoed through the night.

All three of them stiffened, turning toward the darkness beyond.

There, on the distant mountain path, figures slowly emerged.

A procession of people in ancient wedding attire marched toward them, their red lanterns casting an eerie glow.

The chill in the air deepened.

Outside the ruined house, an ancient locust tree swayed in the wind, its branches trembling as if whispering secrets to the night.

Had it truly ended?