Emily tied a bright scarf around her head—the one her late husband, James, had given her—and walked to the church.
Emily was an ordinary young woman living in a small English village, one of many scattered across the countryside. At 27 years old, she was considered by local standards to be quite old for an unmarried woman. Back then, societal norms dictated that women should marry by a certain age, or else face judgment and risk being labeled an “old maid.”
Emily wasn’t unattractive, nor was she exceptionally beautiful. However, she had neither parents nor a dowry, living instead in the home of her strict and critical aunt. Without a dowry, no man wanted to marry her.
Emily might have spent her entire life as an unmarried woman if not for a man in the neighboring village who decided to propose.
A New Beginning
James was a middle-aged man. After his service in the army, he decided to extend his military career rather than return to his hometown. However, a serious accident during his service left him blind in one eye, and he was forced to retire early. When James finally returned home, he found his parents had passed away, leaving him with nothing but an old, run-down cottage.
The villagers suggested he propose to Emily.
James wasn’t considered a desirable groom. He had no livestock, no horses, and no farmland—just his shabby house. On top of that, a scar from his forehead to his cheek, a remnant of his military service, gave him a rugged appearance.
But Emily eagerly accepted his proposal. She was weary of her aunt’s constant criticism and tired of the toxic relationship with her cousin.
After their wedding, Emily and James built a happy life together. James was hardworking, and Emily was a skilled homemaker. They purchased two cows and a few goats, making butter and cheese from the milk, which James sold at the market in a nearby town.
James often brought home small gifts for Emily: fabric for a new dress, a colorful scarf, or honey cakes. These tokens of affection made Emily blossom. Her neighbors noticed how radiant she had become and commented:
— Emily, you’re so lucky! We were foolish not to see what a wonderful man James is.
Emily cherished these words and loved her husband with all her heart.
But their happiness was clouded by one sorrow—they had no children.
The Storm
One evening, James was returning home from the market when a fierce storm broke out. Other men from the village who had traveled with him chose to stay overnight at the inn, but James was eager to get back to Emily.
The road home led through a dense forest. The storm raged fiercely, lightning illuminating the dark sky and thunder shaking the ground. Suddenly, a bolt of lightning struck a towering oak tree, splitting it in two. Half of the tree crashed down onto James’s cart, killing him instantly.
Emily was left alone. Overcome with grief, she wept day and night for her beloved husband. She rarely left the house, always wearing a black scarf as a sign of mourning.
The village women, seeing how much Emily struggled, began inviting her to join their evening gatherings. After completing their household chores, the women would sit together, cracking sunflower seeds and chatting about their lives. At first, Emily hesitated to join them, but over time, these conversations offered her some solace. Yet, when she returned to her empty home, her loneliness would resurface.
The Night Visitor
One stormy night, Emily was startled by a knock at the door. Electricity in the village often failed during storms, so she lit an old oil lamp and went to answer.
To her astonishment, James was standing on the threshold. Her heart leaped with joy. She threw her arms around him, too overwhelmed to question whether it was a dream or reality.
James entered the house silently, sat at the table, and ate the meal Emily set before him. Afterward, he went to their bedroom and lay down. Emily followed, feeling an inexplicable happiness as she lay beside him.
But the next morning, she awoke alone.
The same event occurred the following night and the night after that. Confused and frightened, Emily confided in her elderly neighbor, known for her wisdom.
— That’s not your James, the old woman said gravely. — It’s something else taking his form. You need to seek help from the wise woman who lives deep in the forest.
Seeking Guidance
Following her neighbor’s advice, Emily packed a basket with offerings of butter, cheese, and eggs and set off into the woods.
The wise woman, a mysterious figure with snow-white hair and mismatched eyes—one blue, the other brown—listened to Emily’s story. She nodded solemnly.
— This spirit is not your husband. It’s drawn to your grief and refuses to let you move on. You must break its hold.
The wise woman gave Emily specific instructions on what to do the next time James appeared.
The Final Encounter
That night, James came once more. Emily followed the wise woman’s advice, intentionally dropping a spoon on the floor. When she bent down to pick it up, she noticed something horrifying—James’s feet were not feet at all but cloven hooves.
Trembling, Emily made the sign of the cross.
The figure let out an inhuman roar, its body growing larger and more monstrous. Its scarred face twisted into something grotesque, and its eyes glowed with a terrifying red light. With a deafening howl, the creature vanished into the darkness.
Letting Go
The next morning, Emily felt a sense of clarity she hadn’t experienced in months. As she looked out the window, she saw the world with fresh eyes: the cows mooed cheerfully, and the chickens clucked contentedly in the yard. She realized that it was her own sorrow that had bound her to the past.
Emily donned the bright scarf James had given her and went to church. The sun was shining, birds were singing, and the air felt lighter. At the church, she lit a candle for James’s soul and prayed for his peace.
Emily understood that her excessive grief had held him back. She vowed to honor his memory by living fully, carrying his love in her heart forever.
