The Bride in Black: A Haunting Tale from an Abandoned Church
The old church smelled of dust and forgotten memories. Sunlight poured through stained glass, casting fractured rainbows over empty pews as I pushed open the creaking door, drawn inexplicably inside.
There she stood at the altar — a woman in a black wedding dress, motionless as if made of shadow and time. Her velvet gown flowed around her feet, a delicate black veil hid her face, and she clutched wilted white lilies.
“I… didn’t mean to intrude,” I whispered.
She nodded softly, as if waiting. Her voice barely audible, she said, “I was getting married. He never showed.”
Her eyes, hollow and tired, reflected decades of waiting. “They said his carriage overturned, or he changed his mind. I wore black for mourning and never changed.”
Every year, she returns at the same time, hoping he might come. When I asked if he ever did, she smiled sadly, “No. But hope… is a stubborn guest.”
Then she vanished. The church was empty. The bouquet? Gone.
