**I MARRIED A GHOST – AND ONLY REALIZED IT ON OUR HONEYMOON.**
The ceremony was perfect, even if I felt a chill I couldn’t explain. David was everything I’d ever wanted: kind, intelligent, and devastatingly handsome.
Our honeymoon in Scotland was supposed to be a dream. But things got weird fast.
He refused to be photographed, claiming the flash bothered his eyes. He avoided sunlight, preferring the dimly lit pubs and castles.
Then, last night, I woke up to him staring out the window at the ruined abbey. “They’re calling me home,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.
I followed his gaze, and saw something I could never explain: hundreds of translucent figures drifting towards him, their faces contorted in desperate yearning. David smiled, a tear tracing a path down his cheek. “It’s time,” he said as he turned back to me, his form beginning to flicker. ⬇️
Panic clawed at my throat. “David, what’s happening? Who are those… things?” My voice trembled, a pathetic whisper against the howling wind that suddenly whipped around the ancient stone walls.
He reached out, his touch as cold as the night air, and cupped my face. “They’re my family,” he murmured, his voice fading with each word. “The MacGregors of Dunvegan. Cursed to linger, bound to this land until… until a certain ritual is complete.”
The translucent figures surged closer, their ghostly wails echoing the wind’s mournful cry. Terror iced my veins. This wasn’t the romantic honeymoon I’d envisioned. This was a spectral horror show.
“Ritual?” I croaked, desperate for an explanation.
David’s form shimmered, almost dissolving. “A sacrifice,” he whispered, his eyes, once so warm, now burned with an unearthly light. “A living soul… to break the curse.” His words hit me like a physical blow. He meant me.
Fury ignited within me, burning away the fear. “You’re going to sacrifice me? After everything?” My voice rose, sharp and accusatory, cutting through the spectral din.
He looked at me, genuine sorrow in his fading eyes. “It’s not my choice, love. It’s the curse. It binds me… binds them. But… there might be another way.” His voice was almost gone, a wisp of smoke in the wind.
Suddenly, an ancient, leather-bound book appeared on the windowsill, as if summoned by the wind itself. It opened to a faded page, detailing a counter-ritual, requiring a descendant of the MacGregors to willingly accept the curse, in exchange for the souls’ release. The book revealed that David, through a bizarre twist of fate, wasn’t a simple ghost, but a fragmented spirit, a collection of tormented souls – bound by the curse and unable to fully manifest.
A choice was laid bare before me. Sacrifice myself, sealing my own fate, to release David and his family? Or allow him and his spectral clan to remain trapped in an eternity of torment? A descendant was named, a distant cousin of David’s, living quietly in a nearby village.
I raced through the stormy night, the book clutched in my hand, my heart pounding against my ribs like a frantic bird. I found her, Agnes MacGregor, a frail, elderly woman, surprisingly aware of the family’s tragic history. She listened, her eyes holding the wisdom of centuries, then she smiled, a sad, knowing smile.
“The curse,” she whispered, “It’s not about sacrifice, but about redemption. The descendants willingly carry the burden, not to break it, but to understand it. The MacGregors aren’t demons, child. They’re merely lost souls needing their peace.”
Agnes, with her deep connection to the legacy, performed a different ritual. One of acceptance, of understanding, not sacrifice. The ghostly figures gradually faded, their screams replaced by a quiet serenity as they finally found peace. David remained, his spectral form solidifying, his eyes clear, his touch warm. He was real, free from the curse, a whole being, not just a haunting echo of the past.
We didn’t have a traditional wedding, but we had something more profound: a love story forged in the crucible of the supernatural, a testament to the enduring power of choice and understanding, even against the backdrop of centuries-old curses. And as the sun rose, painting the Scottish landscape in hues of gold and rose, we began our new life, together, finally free.