The Second Bride
606 Words
The silence in the altar room rang louder than any scream.
Mei stared at the new photo—the one that shouldn’t exist. Her own face, dressed in ceremonial red, staring blankly into the camera. But she had never posed for that photo. She had never worn that dress.
And yet, there it was.
She backed away slowly, heart hammering.
“No... no, this can’t be happening.”
Behind her, the door creaked shut on its own.
Click.
Locked.
The candles along the wall lit themselves, one by one, casting red shadows that danced like ghosts.
She turned in a slow circle, the air around her thick with incense and dread.
Then the music box opened again.
This time, the melody was different. Distorted. Slower. Darker.
A voice echoed from the corners of the room — feminine, but not Lianhua’s.
“You were chosen, too.”
Mei’s throat tightened. “Lianhua is free. I saw her. I helped her—”
“You freed the wrong one.”
She spun toward the altar.
The silk that had wrapped Lianhua’s bones now moved on its own, coiling around the photo frame. The lights flickered violently, then burst into flame.
And in the fire, Mei saw them—faces she didn’t recognize.
Dozens of women.
All wearing red. All silent. All staring.
Eyes full of rage.
Eyes full of betrayal.
Eyes full of sorrow.
She stumbled back.
A whisper rose like wind through trees.
“You broke the seal. Now the forgotten will rise.”
Suddenly, Mei felt a sharp pain in her wrist. She cried out and looked down.
The bruise that had faded was bleeding again, forming a perfect ring like a bangle burned into her skin.
She collapsed to the floor, gasping for air as cold surrounded her like a shroud.
Then came footsteps.
Slow. Bare. Familiar.
She looked up—and there stood Lianhua.
But this time… she wasn’t alone.
Behind her stood the other brides, each one carrying chains, ashes, and silk. A procession of pain.
And in Lianhua’s arms — a red veil.
Mei tried to speak, to scream, but her voice vanished.
Lianhua stepped forward. Her face no longer soft or sorrowful, but calm. Final.
“You listened when no one else would. That is why the house chose you.”
Mei shook her head. “No. I didn’t ask for this.”
“But you heard the cries,” Lianhua said. “And once the forgotten are remembered, their chains must be passed.”
The brides closed in.
One placed a red ribbon in Mei’s hair.
Another placed bangles of bone on her wrists.
Lianhua knelt before her and lowered the red veil onto her head.
“Welcome, sister.”
---
Somewhere far away, Aunt Lin awoke with a start, gasping for breath. She reached for her phone, but it buzzed before she could dial.
A new photo had been sent.
It was of the red room.
Mei stood beneath the veil.
And beneath the image, a caption burned into the screen:
> “The bride is not forgotten.”
---
One week later, the mansion stood quiet once again. Clean. Silent.
A couple drove past it, marveling at its ancient beauty.
“Did you hear someone bought it?” the woman said. “They say a new bride moved in. Young. Pretty. Quiet.”
Her husband laughed. “Hope she doesn’t mind ghosts.”
Behind the lace curtain of an upstairs window, a figure in red watched them go.
She did not blink.
She did not smile.
She only waited.
For the next one to hear the cries.
---
- Writer
