The 80th Bride's Curse: A Haunted Wedding Ring

In the quaint village of Eldridge, nestled between rolling hills and dense woods, there was a tale that had been whispered for generations. The tale of the 80th Bride’s Curse, a legend that had never been confirmed but was spoken with such conviction that the villagers believed it was a truth as solid as the stone bridge that spanned the winding river.

On a crisp autumn evening, the bell of the St. Mary’s Church tolled, signaling the end of a wedding ceremony. The couple, young and in love, stepped out of the church, their laughter mingling with the rustling leaves. They were the 80th couple to wed in the village, and they believed that their love was meant to be.

Evelyn, with her radiant smile and flowing red hair, clutched her bouquet tightly. Her groom, James, stood by her side, his eyes filled with affection and excitement. They had planned a simple wedding, with a few close friends and family members, but the day was perfect. As they walked to their car, they passed the old, abandoned mansion on the edge of the village.

“Do you hear that?” Evelyn asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

James listened, but all he heard was the gentle hum of the wind through the trees. “What?” he replied, puzzled.

Evelyn pointed to the mansion. “I think I heard a bell. It’s coming from there.”

James chuckled. “It’s just a trick of the wind, Evelyn. Come on, let’s get to the reception.”

But as they drove away, the bell tolled again, louder and more insistent. Evelyn shivered, but James waved it off, confident that it was nothing more than a figment of her imagination.

The reception was a blur of laughter and dancing, the music echoing through the night. Evelyn and James found themselves alone on the dance floor, surrounded by a sea of people who seemed to ignore them. As the night wore on, Evelyn felt a strange sensation, as if someone were watching her. She looked around, but no one was there.

When the music finally stopped, Evelyn felt a chill run down her spine. She looked down at her left hand, where the wedding ring lay, glowing faintly. “James, look at my ring,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

James looked down, his eyes widening in shock. The ring was no longer plain gold; it was now adorned with intricate carvings that seemed to shift and change with the light. “Evelyn, what happened to your ring?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Evelyn didn’t answer. She felt the ring grow warm in her hand, as if it were alive. Suddenly, the room spun around her, and she felt herself being pulled through the air. James reached out, but she was gone.

When Evelyn opened her eyes, she was no longer in the wedding reception. She was standing in the grand hall of the old mansion, the walls adorned with portraits of bride and groom after bride and groom. Each portrait seemed to be watching her, their eyes filled with sorrow and longing.

“Evelyn?” James’s voice echoed through the hall, but she couldn’t turn to face him. She was being drawn further into the mansion, through corridors that seemed to stretch on forever.

“Evelyn!” James’s voice grew louder, but it was muffled by the walls. “Where are you?”

Evelyn stumbled down a set of stairs, her feet slipping on the old, worn steps. She reached the bottom and found herself in a room filled with wedding dresses, each one more beautiful than the last. She was drawn to the furthest one, the most elegant and ornate.

As she reached out to touch it, the dress began to move. It was being worn by a woman who looked exactly like her, except her eyes were filled with terror and despair. The woman turned, and Evelyn saw that her face was marked with a deep, red scar.

“Evelyn,” the woman whispered, her voice trembling. “Please, help me.”

Evelyn stepped forward, but the woman disappeared, leaving behind a trail of red, like blood. Evelyn followed the trail, her heart pounding in her chest, until she reached the center of the room. There, in the center, was a pedestal with a mirror on top.

Evelyn looked into the mirror, and she saw her reflection, but her eyes were hollow, and her skin was pale and sickly. She was the bride, the 80th bride, and she was cursed.

“Evelyn!” James’s voice was louder now, but it was too late. The mirror shattered, and Evelyn was engulfed in a blinding light.

When she opened her eyes again, she was back in the wedding reception, but everything was different. The room was empty, and the music had stopped. She looked down at her hand, and the wedding ring was gone.

“James?” she called out, her voice breaking.

He appeared at her side, his face pale and his eyes wide with fear. “Evelyn, what happened?”

“I don’t know,” she replied, her voice trembling. “But something is wrong. The ring... it’s gone, and I feel like I’m being pulled back to the mansion.”

James took her hand, his fingers entwined with hers. “We’ll find a way to stop this, Evelyn. We’ll find the ring and break the curse.”

But as they left the reception, the bell tolled again, and Evelyn felt the familiar pull. She looked at James, and for a moment, she saw the fear in his eyes. Then, she was gone, and he was left standing alone, the ring in his hand, the mansion in the distance, and the 80th Bride’s Curse calling to her once more.