Chapter 1 The Curse of the Bride

The lace adorned wedding gown displayed on the mannequin remained aged, but the silk bodice was untarnished. Time had not withered the gown, however, their was a shimmer in the fabric that did not look nice. Draped with silk, the edges had a dim shimmer, which emitted something odd.

A draft moving under her cloak caused Emily Carter to shiver as she caught eyes with the peculiar wedding shop. She remained in disbelief about the supernatural, but the legends and heresay about the Veil of Sorrow was something that couldn't be simply neglected.

In her late night newscasts, she had heard of a dress that so many people wore, but those who did were bound to death and Emily had to suffer through many quirky encounters as an investigative journalist, but they are nothing now compared to this one. The last sight of the dress was in Blackwood, a rural town which sat on the outskirts of nowhere.

After traveling on barren roads for kilometers with minimal satellite connection, she finally arrived at the building.

"Seems like you're lost in the wrong series of places," were the first Mrs. Holloway's words. She had sunken eyes and looked as if she'd been through years of endless struggle. "Your presence here isn't safe."

"I'm present to uncover the story."

With a simple shrug of her shoulders, Emily inched towards the dress. "There's always a how and a why; it's not spoiling anything if I tell you every starting point can keep you awake at the end," she said with evident sarcasm.

"You aren't the first to cross that path. That zealous hiker ended up in the graveyard," she continued, allowing a faint shudder to stem from her.

"Which makes me suspect you have something to recount, wouldn't it?"

Slow to respond, the old woman finally managed a draw out sigh.

"Backtracking towards my first tale. It starts in 1876. The first victim is Isabella Devereux. Defined by her gentle beauty, she was a young bride. Life never seemed pleasant considering she was literally slaughtered on her wedding night, courtesy of the man who loved her best."

"Murdered?" Emily asked, clearly confused.

Mrs. Holloway looked away from Emily with a lingering gaze at the dress. "Her spouse never desired to wed her. There was someone he adored. But the... Setting off the jealousy... "So, on their wedding day, he locked Isabella in their bridal suite and set the room on fire."

Emily grimaced, trying not to feel sick.

"That's distressing," she attempted to sound calm. Mrs. Holloway's grin vanished. "The townspeople still remember... the outfit was unharmed and survived the fire." Mrs. Holloway pointed a finger at each listener as she continued. "Isabella, along with all the women that wore the gown, died disintegrated into sadness."

Emily shivered the moment she touched the edge of the garment and slowly began to withdraw her fingers away from it. She felt her gaze turning sideways into oblivion.

She was gone from the shop for a couple of seconds.

She was standing in a fine ballroom with chandeliers lighting high overhead and beautiful music being played. But there was a smoky smell in the air. The walls grew darker as fire traced along the curtains. In the distance, someone screamed.

Emily was brought back to reality with a scream and pulled her hand back.

Mrs. Holloway took her wrist in hers. "You saw her, didn't you?"

Emily nodded and gulped hard.

"Then it's already too late for you."