This is my final warningif you dont change the wedding venue, Im not marrying you. There were only two weeks left until our wedding, and I stood with the invitations in my hand, unable to bring myself to sign them off
Whats gotten into you now, Emily? asked my fiancé, Tom, with a sigh.
I just have a horrible feeling!
Thats understandable, he smiled gently, Its not every day you get married. The nerves will pass, I promise. Everything will be fine!
How can you promise something you have no control over? Why cant you just listen to me for once? How are we supposed to get on if you refuse to compromise before weve even said our vows?
Were not exactly rolling in money, Em, Tom said, wounded, Ive already paid the deposit for the decor and food. If we pull out now, we wont get our money back.
Thats hardly the most important thing, darling, just trust me on this.
No, I cant. I refuse to believe all this nonsense. At the very least, its irrational. At worst, well have to skip our honeymoon. Are you ever going to tell me whats actually going on?
Alright, fine. Listen. Dont say these things never happen. Just because you dont believe in something doesnt mean its not real.
I promise Ill listen, Tom assured me.
Weve had this strange new woman start at work recently, Carol. Shes very quiet, always wears dark clothes, keeps to herself. The other day she approached me and said, I have a message from your Gran Maisie.
What?! I was taken aback; Gran Maisie died three years ago.
She offered to tell me what Gran wanted to warn me aboutafter work. I agreed. And this is what she told me.
Years ago, they built a new restaurant with a banquet hall in town. A bloke called Simon was a driver on the site, made decent money, and asked his fiancée, Jane, if they could celebrate their wedding there. She was from a village, her family had never been to a restaurant in their lives, so she wholeheartedly agreedexcited to throw the party of a lifetime and impress her relatives.
On the day, Jane looked radiantall white dress and veil. Simon looked so dapper too. After the registry, their motorcade, with all the guests following by coach, arrived at the hall. The place was splendideveryone gasped. Only one old lady shook her head and tutted, Artificial flowers at a weddingwhatever next? Not a good omen. But nobody paid much attention. Back then, it was usual to have artificial things: fabrics, china, almost everything else. The chemical industry had really taken off in the fifties and sixties, and this was a bit after that.
Guests still brought fresh flowers, which were put in vases on the couples table. When Jane and Simon went for their slow dance, everything was wonderful. But when they returned, Jane stopped deadher bouquet of roses was completely wilted. The staff whisked the flowers away and the celebration went on. But soon, Jane said she felt sick and then fainted. The windows were opened, thinking it was too stuffy. But Jane felt ill again soon after. Murmurs began: Shes probably pregnant Lets just hope its nothing seriousa baby is temporary! joked others. Someone even claimed theyd seen a red stain on Janes dress, but upon checking, it had vanished.
Before long, a strange rumour went around: a mysterious woman dressed head-to-toe in black had been seen at the entrance. No one could find her. The wedding night became a nightmare. The newlyweds said they felt an unseen presence in their roomshuffles and footsteps, as though someone was watching them.
The next morning, they were both panic-stricken. Honeymoons were uncommon then, so Simon went back to work that week. Tragically, before the week was out, Simon died in a car crashhis car veered into oncoming traffic for no apparent reason. The weather was clear, the road good, and he was a careful, experienced driver. No one ever understood what happened.
Jane was devastated, wasted away before everyones eyes. A year later, she left home and vanishedno one ever found her.
Thats a gripping ghost story, Tom said, But whats it got to do with us?
Its directly related, I was on the verge of tears, That weddingthe cursed weddinghappened in *that very hall*. The one youve booked.
But we have nothing to do with all that! Loads of things happen to other people.
They say the restaurant was built on an old churchyard, and the banquet room sits right where a brides grave wasshe took her own life days after catching her new husband cheating. Now, her angry spirit takes the groom right after the wedding, and the bride within a year. What if its happening again? Gran tried to warn me from beyond!
I dont believe in any of this rubbish, Tom huffed, If you wont marry me, Ill just ask Jenny instead. Jenny was my oldest friend. Sign the invitations or Ill go through with it.
I hesitated, but in the end, I called off the wedding. Toms threat of marrying Jenny really unsettled me.
He actually did itasked Jenny to marry himand she, traitor that she was, agreed.
Within a week, the old warning came true: Tom died in a motorbike crash. The brakes failed. I was terrified for Jenny, though I couldnt forgive her. I tried to talk to Carol to see how I could help my ex-friendafter all, within a year, Jenny would be next. But Carol had already left the job, and she didnt live at the address listed on her records.
People around town always said the most terrifying wedding happened there back in the seventies. I could never find proof, but its no surprise. Back then, people didnt talk about such things. Still, the locals never forgot about it Months passed. Every time I walked past the old restaurant, I felt a prickling at the back of my necka reminder that some places hold on to sorrow like a stain. Jenny lasted longer than most expected, clinging fiercely to life, all smiles and denial. But as spring returned, the whispers began: she was looking pale and thin; shed quit her job without warning.
One rainy afternoon, I saw Jenny on the bridge by the river, staring down at the rushing water. In her trembling hands, she clutched a single rosedrooping, petals bruised. Our eyes met. For a heartbeat, it was as if time folded, and I could see all the frightened brides whod come before us. She tried to smile.
“Did you know?” she asked softly. “Did you know it would really happen?”
I stepped closer, my own voice shaking. “I tried to warn you. Sometimessometimes stories are true.”
Jenny shuddered, turning the rose stem until it broke in her hand. “I dream of her every night. Shes waiting.”
Thunder rumbled above us, a cold wind knifing between our bones. I wanted to take her hand, to run, to change the ending one last time. But all I could do was whisper, “Youre not alone. I promise.”
She nodded, a tear sliding down her cheek. Behind us, the restaurants faded letters flickered in the dusk, windows dark and watching. I walked away, heart heavy with secrets, vowing never to let fear silence a warning again.
No one knows what became of Jenny; she vanished as quietly as a sigh. To this day, no bride or groom dares celebrate beneath that haunted roof. The legend lives onthe price of ignoring a warning is paid over and over, in love and in grief. And as for me? I keep the invitations locked away, a lesson inked in sorrow: trust your instincts, even when no one believes you. Some dangers are too old, too stubborn, to ignore.
