Horror Story "The Lantern Bride"

"The Lantern Bride"

Chapter 1: The Village of Witherby

Nestled in a forgotten valley where the sun seemed to hesitate to rise, the village of Witherby wore a permanent shroud of mist. Ivy-crawled stone cottages leaned like old men toward the earth, and the church bell hadn’t rung in decades. Only a few dozen souls remained, and all of them feared the woods—especially after dusk.

Emily Blackthorne was the only outsider in Witherby. A writer seeking seclusion, she had rented the old Rosemoor Manor on the edge of the forest, despite the villagers’ hushed warnings. She was curious, even drawn to the ominous beauty of the land, its silences, its secrets. Her days were filled with dusty libraries and the scratch of pen on paper, but her nights were filled with something else entirely.

A light.

Every evening, just after twilight, a solitary lantern would flicker in the woods beyond her window, swaying gently as if carried by an unseen hand. It never approached, never retreated—just waited.

Emily felt it was watching her.

Chapter 2: The Lantern's Flame

She mentioned the lantern to the innkeeper, Mrs. Cartwright, an elderly woman with skin like crumpled paper and eyes sharp as razors.

"You didn’t follow it, did you?" she asked, setting down a tray of tea.

"No, of course not. I just... it doesn’t seem like a person. It doesn’t move like one."

Mrs. Cartwright said nothing at first. Then: "That’s because it’s not. They call her the Lantern Bride. She’s cursed. Been haunting these woods since the Black Wedding."

"The what?"

"A tragedy," the old woman whispered. "A love turned to ruin. Blood and betrayal. She wanders, lantern in hand, waiting for someone to follow her into the trees. Waiting for him."

Emily tried to laugh it off, but the next night, the lantern returned—closer.

Chapter 3: The Black Wedding

Curiosity overtook caution. Emily combed through the manor’s library and the village records. There it was: a story buried under decades of dust.

In 1871, Eleanor Whittmore, daughter of the richest man in Witherby, was to marry Thomas Greaves, a local poet. But Thomas vanished on the night of their wedding, leaving Eleanor heartbroken and humiliated. That same night, she was seen walking into the woods with a lantern, wearing her wedding gown.

She never returned.

A week later, her gown was found torn and bloodied, the lantern extinguished beside it. Her body was never recovered.

Legend claimed she still roamed the forest, luring lost lovers to join her in the afterlife. Her light was a beacon—and a trap.

Emily was captivated.

Chapter 4: The Man in the Fog

On the seventh night, the lantern came again—but it wasn’t alone.

There was a figure behind it now. Tall, lean, and shadowed. Emily watched from her window, heart galloping. The figure didn’t move, didn’t speak. But the lantern’s glow pulsed stronger, as if in excitement.

Then, a voice—low, melodic, and male—whispered her name.

"Emily."

She stumbled back, breath caught in her throat. When she looked again, both the lantern and the man were gone.

Chapter 5: The Voice in the Dark

That night, Emily dreamed of a wedding. She was the bride. Her dress shimmered like frost. The groom stood at the altar, his face veiled in shadow. As she reached for his hand, it turned to bone.

She woke with a scream—and a whisper in her ear.

"Come to me."

The next morning, she found a white rose on her doorstep, fresh and damp with morning dew. It hadn't bloomed in Witherby for over a century.

Chapter 6: Into the Forest

Against every rational instinct, Emily followed the lantern the next night. The woods welcomed her with eerie silence. The air grew cold, but the light stayed just ahead, always a few paces beyond reach.

She called out, "Who are you? Why do you want me?"

And from the darkness came the reply: "I have waited so long."

The trees gave way to a clearing. There stood a chapel, ruined and overtaken by vines. Inside, candlelight flickered, and a table was set for a wedding feast. Cobwebs veiled the chairs, and the cake was mold and dust.

The groom stood at the altar.

Chapter 7: The Bride and the Dead

He was beautiful in a way that stole breath—eyes like dying stars, lips pale as snow, dressed in tattered elegance. He extended his hand.

"Emily Blackthorne, will you be mine?"

She trembled. "Who are you?"

"I was Thomas. But I’ve become something else. Bound here by her grief. She will not let me go. Not until I marry another. Not until she is avenged."

The air thickened. From behind, a scream tore through the chapel.

Eleanor had arrived.

Chapter 8: The Lantern Bride

She floated more than walked, face twisted in eternal heartbreak, gown soaked in spectral blood. Her lantern blazed with unnatural fire.

"You promised me," she cried. "You said we’d be together forever!"

Thomas stood between them. "I never wanted this. I was taken—killed before I could reach you. Your father had me murdered."

Eleanor wailed, a sound that split the trees. Emily stood frozen, caught between love and horror.

"Let him go," she whispered. "Let us both go."

Eleanor turned her dead eyes to Emily. "Then you will take my place."

Chapter 9: Love Beyond the Grave

Emily felt her body pulled, soul unraveling as Eleanor’s curse tried to consume her. But Thomas reached for her, their hands touching.

In that moment, something broke.

The lantern shattered. The chapel dissolved into mist. Eleanor’s scream became wind.

And then—silence.

Emily woke in the forest, Thomas beside her.

"I’m free," he said, voice cracking.

"But you’re still here."

He nodded. "The curse is broken. But I am still dead. Yet, if you choose, I can remain... with you."

Her heart ached. "As a ghost?"

"As your companion. Forever in the in-between."

She took his hand.

"Then we walk together."

Epilogue: Rosemoor Manor

The villagers say the woods are peaceful now. The lantern no longer burns.

But sometimes, in the fog, two figures are seen walking hand in hand. One alive, one not quite.

And the old manor? It glows warmly at night.

Lit by love that death could not extinguish.