The Red Veil
870 Words
The morning air in the mansion was thick — too still, too quiet, as if the house itself was trying to pretend nothing had happened.
But Mei knew better.
She stood at the bathroom mirror, staring at the purple bruises on her wrist. No amount of scrubbing would make them fade. Her fingers trembled as she traced the faint outline — a perfect handprint, each finger pressed deep into her skin.
"It wasn’t a dream."
"It couldn’t be."
Downstairs, Aunt Lin moved about the kitchen, humming an old folk song. It was the same one she'd sung when Mei was little — back when she'd come to the mansion during summer holidays.
Back when things still felt normal.
Mei stepped into the kitchen, trying to act calm. “Aunt Lin... can I ask you something?”
Her aunt turned, smiling warmly. “Of course, dear.”
Mei hesitated. “What’s in the east wing?”
The humming stopped.
Aunt Lin's expression shifted — not fear exactly, but something close to dread. Her hands slowly lowered to the counter.
“Who told you to ask about that?” she said quietly.
“No one,” Mei lied. “I just... I went there last night. I heard a noise, and the door was open, so—”
“You went inside?” Aunt Lin’s voice rose sharply.
Mei nodded, swallowing hard.
“You shouldn't have done that,” her aunt whispered. “It isn’t safe.”
Mei stepped closer. “What is that room? The one with the red wedding dress?”
Aunt Lin turned away, her shoulders tense. “You’ve seen too much now. It was only a matter of time.”
Mei’s stomach twisted. “Please. Tell me the truth. Who is the woman in the photo?”
Aunt Lin was quiet for a long time. Then she pulled out a chair and motioned for Mei to sit.
“She was your great-grandfather’s bride,” she began slowly. “Her name was Lianhua. She was young, just seventeen, and chosen through an old family tradition — a ghost marriage.”
Mei’s eyes widened. “A ghost marriage?”
Aunt Lin nodded. “It was believed her spirit would protect the family — bind her to the bloodline. She was married to a son who had died young, and they kept her here. She was meant to live as a widow forever.”
“That’s... that’s cruel,” Mei said, her voice barely above a whisper.
“It was,” Aunt Lin agreed. “But it was tradition. She tried to run away once. They say she was locked in that room for months. Then, one night, the mansion caught fire. Everyone thought it was an accident, but... some say she started it.”
“She died there?”
Aunt Lin’s gaze met hers. “Her body was never found. But after the fire, the room was sealed. Until now.”
Mei shivered. “She’s still there. I saw her. I—she spoke to me.”
Aunt Lin looked down, guilt lining her face. “We never should have brought you here. The house remembers you.”
Mei frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Your mother lived here as a child,” Aunt Lin said quietly. “Lianhua tried to reach her too. But your mother was strong. She blocked it out. She never spoke of it.”
Mei sat back, her head spinning. “She left this place... and never came back.”
“She was protecting you.”
Mei’s thoughts raced. If the ghost bride had tried to speak to her mother... and now her... then what did she want?
“Last night, before I passed out,” she said slowly, “she said something.”
Aunt Lin stiffened.
“She said, ‘You’re too late.’ And when I woke up, these words were scratched into my hand: ‘Help her.’”
The air grew still.
Aunt Lin’s eyes filled with fear. “She’s not angry with you. She’s begging you.”
“Begging me to help... how?”
“She wants to be free,” her aunt whispered. “But she can’t move on unless the truth is uncovered.”
Mei’s voice shook. “What truth?”
Aunt Lin’s lips trembled. “Lianhua didn’t die in the fire, Mei. She was killed. By someone in this family. And the house is hiding the secret.”
---
That night, sleep didn’t come easily.
Mei tossed and turned, haunted by visions of red silk and hollow eyes. At midnight, the sound returned — the music box melody. Faint. Echoing through the floorboards.
She followed it again, her flashlight clutched tightly in her shaking hands.
But this time, the east wing was no longer dark.
Candles lit the hall — dozens of them, flickering along the walls as if part of a ceremony. The door to the red room was wide open, and in the center stood the mannequin again — now wearing the red veil.
And beneath the veil, Mei swore she saw movement.
A twitch.
A breath.
A slow turn of the head.
Then... a whisper filled the air.
“Bring me justice.”
---
- Writer
