**I MARRIED A GHOST — OR SO I THOUGHT UNTIL LAST NIGHT**
He was perfect – kind, attentive, and impossibly handsome. Said he didn’t remember much before waking up in the old chapel ruins, but who am I to judge? Love is blind, right?
We married there, among the crumbling stones. Everything felt… right.
Then came the sleeplessness. He never slept. Claimed he didn’t need to. I dismissed it.
Last night, I woke up thirsty and went downstairs. The cellar door was open. He was down there, bathed in the single flickering bulb’s light.
He wasn’t alone. Three hooded figures stood with him, chanting in a language I didn’t recognize. His eyes were glowing red. He turned, saw me, and smiled – a chilling, unfamiliar smile. “Welcome to the family, my dear.” ⬇️
Terror clenched my chest, a cold fist squeezing the air from my lungs. The smile – that wasn’t *his* smile. It was predatory, cruel, a mask stretched over something ancient and malevolent. My perfect husband, the man I’d pledged my life to, was a stranger, a horrifying stranger.
I stumbled back, my breath catching in my throat. “What… what is this?” I whispered, the words catching on the sudden lump in my throat.
He chuckled, a low, guttural sound that scraped against my soul. “Patience, my love. You’ll understand soon enough.” One of the hooded figures stepped forward, their hand outstretched, revealing a tarnished silver amulet, pulsing with an eerie inner light. It was identical to the one I wore, a gift from “him” on our wedding day.
My legs threatened to give way, but the raw fear propelled me forward. “That amulet,” I stammered, “it… it’s cursed.” The words tumbled out, a desperate attempt to grasp onto something, anything, to understand this nightmare. I remembered an old village legend, whispers of a coven that used ghostly vessels to conduct unholy rituals. Could this be true?
He ignored my question, his red eyes fixated on the amulet around my neck. “The ritual is almost complete,” he said, his voice now a chilling rasp. “Once we bind your soul to the others, our power will be unstoppable.”
Panic fueled my actions. I lunged, snatching a rusty iron bar from a nearby pile of debris. I swung it wildly, fueled by adrenaline and a desperate fight for survival. One hooded figure cried out, falling back as the bar connected with their shoulder. The others scattered, their chanting dissolving into panicked shouts.
My “husband” reacted swiftly, his eyes blazing. He lunged at me, but something unexpected happened. As he reached for me, a blinding white light erupted from the amulet I wore, engulfing him. A scream, unlike any I’d ever heard, ripped through the cellar. When the light subsided, he was gone. Vanished. Only the faint scent of sulfur and the scattered remnants of the ritual remained.
The three hooded figures were also gone, leaving behind only the eerie silence of the cellar and a sense of profound unease. I was left standing amidst the chaos, the silver amulet still burning faintly around my neck – now cool to the touch.
The next morning, I found a small, leather-bound book hidden amongst the debris. Its pages were filled with arcane symbols and chilling descriptions of a forbidden ritual gone wrong. The final entry detailed a catastrophic backlash, the disappearance of the coven’s leader, and a warning – a soul bound to the amulet could be freed only by another, a sacrifice of equal power.
The book didn’t offer answers, only more questions. Was I still bound to the ritual in some way? Was there a part of the coven still out there, searching for me? The perfect husband was gone, replaced by a chilling mystery, leaving me to face a future steeped in uncertainty, a lonely vigil against an unseen enemy. The chapel remained, a silent testament to my lost love, my ghostly marriage, and a terrifying revelation – I had married a monster, but the monster was still out there.