Strangers: The Bride


They heard her song and suffered for it.

It was one of the hottest Julys I could remember, and I’ve lived through more than a few. Most of the town was out along the point, the lighthouse closer than normal. A stiff breeze blew in off the Atlantic, but it didn’t seem to do much more than stir up the heat.

Seeing as how I didn’t want to be near the ocean or Blood Lake, I was out and about, wandering along the paths winding through the woods and lots of Cross. When I drew near to our branch of Miskatonic University, I heard a soft buzzing.

It set my teeth on edge and caused the hair on my neck to stand up, and it’s been a hell of a long time since that happened.

I followed the buzzing, wondering what could make such a noise, and I soon found myself on the University’s land. A loud thump sounded and quickened my steps.

I passed by one of the fraternities, and I was surprised to see some of the upperclassmen. They were spread out on the lawn in front of their house, and the twisted shapes they were in told me plain enough that the young men were dead.

I found a similar sight at the next two and counted twenty-nine bodies in all.

When I reached the Department of Dead Languages, I heard the creak of windows being raised. Rounding the corner of the house, I saw at least a dozen professors and other faculty leaning out of the windows. They were staring at a young woman dressed in a wedding gown.

It was from her mouth the buzzing occurred, and I knew it was death for those who needed to heed her call.

I stood and watched, my hands on the Colts, waiting to see if I would need them.

I would not.

The men gathered in the windows threw themselves out for her, and they twisted in such a manner as to break their necks when they fell.

When all those gathered were dead, she closed her mouth and looked upon me.

A soft smile crossed her face, then a delicate laugh escaped her lips. “Will you walk me home to the Hollow, Duncan Blood?”

With her hand light upon my arm, it was a fine walk back to the Hollow.

#horror #monsters #supernatural #death

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Nicholas Efstathiou

Husband, father, and writer.

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