Dark Whispers

The night enveloped the cobblestone path, carrying the damp scent of soil in the air. At the entrance of the village, a century-old locust tree swayed gently in the wind, its branches resembling withered fingers, casting twisted shadows in the darkness.

Jamie stood at the village entrance, gazing at the tree wrapped in red string, her brows slightly furrowed. Beside her, Sandra had her hands tucked into her pockets, scanning the surroundings with a scrutinizing look.

"So, people actually tie this red string and willingly marry a 'ghost groom' they've never met?" Sandra's tone was indifferent, tinged with skepticism.

Jamie shrugged. "Believe it or not, the results speak for themselves. Several young women tied the red string and never returned. The next day, they were found as nameless corpses."

She flipped through the file in her hands, detailing the missing unmarried women from the past five years. Their commonality? Each had tied the red string one fateful night and vanished without a trace. Some were later discovered floating in the village's river, while others were found beneath the locust tree, clad in crimson wedding gowns, with eerie smiles frozen on their faces.

"Cause of death?" Sandra asked.

"Drowning, suffocation, sudden cardiac arrest… No visible wounds, but each victim had deep ligature marks on their wrists, as if something had pulled them away."

Sandra's frown deepened.

"Tonight, someone is holding this 'wedding' ceremony," Jamie said, closing the file. Her gaze settled on an old wooden house in the distance. A red lantern hung in front of it, flickering weakly, its glow trembling like an uneasy breath in the night.

—

At midnight, faint whispers drifted from the wooden house.

A young woman sat at the edge of the bed, dressed in a wedding gown. A bright red veil covered her head, and her wrists were bound by a long red string—one end tied around her wrist, the other trailing out through the half-open window, vanishing into the night as if guiding an unseen force.

Midnight. The cold air seeped into the wooden house. The candlelight flickered erratically despite the absence of wind, casting restless shadows on the walls. The woman in the red wedding dress sat motionless, gripping the red string tightly, her hands trembling slightly.

Dong—Dong—

A distant drumbeat resonated through the night, deep and slow, like the prelude to an ancient ritual. Her breath turned shallow, fingers digging into the string, cold sweat forming on her forehead.

She had heard the village tales—tie the red string at midnight, and the ghost groom would find his way to her, guiding her to their "wedding."

Sha—Sha—

Outside, amidst the rustling leaves, faint footsteps emerged, slowly approaching from the village entrance.

The red string twitched.

The woman held her breath, eyes widening as she stared at the string. It was being pulled, unnaturally, inch by inch, as if something was creeping closer along its length.

She wanted to let go. But before she could react, the string around her wrist suddenly tightened—like a living thing, biting into her flesh. A sharp pain shot through her wrist. She gasped, lips trembling, but no sound escaped—her throat was blocked, as if an invisible hand was gripping it.

Outside the window, a tall shadow loomed closer.

Dong—Dong—

The drumbeats quickened.

Creak—

The wooden door swung open without warning, as if pushed by an unseen force. A rush of icy air flooded the room. The candle flames snuffed out instantly, plunging the space into pitch-black darkness.

The red string yanked violently!

The woman lurched forward, her veil slipping off, revealing a face twisted in terror. Her pupils shrank as she followed the string's path—only to see its other end stretching to the doorway, where a dark figure stood.

It was tall, clad in flowing wedding robes, but its face was obscured by an eerie black mist. Only its eyes were visible, glowing an unnatural, ghostly blue.

"…You… have arrived…"

Her voice trembled, barely a whisper.

The figure slowly extended a hand—long, slender fingers deathly pale, its nails tinged with a sickly, decayed blue. With a slight tug of the red string, the woman's body tilted forward involuntarily, as if her very soul was ensnared, bound to him, unable to flee.

She opened her mouth to scream. But only a strangled whimper escaped. Tears welled in her eyes as terror consumed her, her consciousness fading into darkness.

"…The bride… is mine…"

A cold, whispering voice slithered into her ears, as if whispered from the depths of the underworld.

The next moment, the dark figure yanked the string. It coiled around her throat, tightening with unnatural force. A freezing sensation surged through her body as suffocation set in. Her pupils dilated, legs kicking helplessly. Her nails clawed desperately at the string, but it only constricted further—

Her face turned blue. Her vision blurred. Her mouth opened and closed, gasping for air that would never reach her lungs.

Darkness swallowed her.

Bang!

The wooden door burst open!

A blinding beam of light sliced through the darkness as Jamie stormed inside, flashlight aimed directly at the figure.

The black shadow flinched, retreating abruptly into the mist. In an instant, the red string unwound from the woman's throat, dropping her limply to the floor.

Sandra followed right behind, rushing forward to catch the woman's collapsing body. She coughed violently, sucking in desperate breaths. Deep bruises marred her neck, bloodshot eyes wide with horror—she looked as though she had just returned from the brink of death.

Jamie scanned the room, flashlight sweeping through the eerie silence.

"What… was that?" Sandra muttered, gaze fixated on the red string. It lay limply on the floor now, its severed end trailing into nothingness—the shadowy figure had vanished.

Jamie frowned, eyes lingering on the broken red string, deep in thought.

The air remained icy, thick with an unshakable, suffocating presence.

"…The bride… is mine…"

A whisper, low and fragmented, drifted from the shadows.

Both women spun around.

In the beam of their flashlight, they saw—

The wedding symbol on the wall, once a joyous crimson, now bleeding. A deep red stain seeped from its edges, like fresh blood oozing from an unseen wound.