Short Horror Stories

The Midnight Wedding

The humid air hung heavy over Malacca, the scent of incense and sea salt clinging to the narrow streets. Ah Hock, a young coppersmith with calloused hands and a kind heart, was in a predicament. His aging mother, desperate for a grandchild before she passed, had arranged a marriage for him. Not just any marriage, but a 'ghost marriage' to the recently deceased daughter of a wealthy merchant family, the Lee's.

Ah Hock, a man of modern sensibilities, scoffed at the idea. But filial piety ran deep, and his mother's pleading eyes wore down his resistance. Besides, the Lees were offering a substantial dowry, enough to secure his mother's comfort in her twilight years. He agreed, against his better judgement.

The wedding ceremony was a strange and unsettling affair. Held at the stroke of midnight in the Lees' opulent mansion, it was shrouded in an eerie silence. The bride, Mei Lin, lay in an ornate coffin, her pale face framed by a silk shroud. Ah Hock, dressed in traditional wedding robes, felt a chill crawl down his spine as he performed the rituals, his voice echoing in the cavernous hall.

After the ceremony, Ah Hock was led to the bridal chamber, a lavishly decorated room heavy with the scent of lilies. Mei Lin's coffin had been placed in the center, its polished surface reflecting the flickering candlelight. He was instructed to sleep beside it, to consummate the marriage in spirit.

As Ah Hock lay down, a sense of dread washed over him. The room felt colder, the silence more profound. He tried to close his eyes, but an unnerving feeling of being watched kept him awake. Then, a soft sigh, like a whisper of wind, seemed to emanate from the coffin.

He sat up, heart pounding. The coffin lid creaked open. Ah Hock gasped, his blood turning to ice. Mei Lin sat up, her eyes open, staring at him with an unnerving intensity. Her skin was cold and clammy, her lips tinged with an unnatural blue.

"Husband," she whispered, her voice a chilling rasp.

Terror seized Ah Hock. He scrambled back, tripping over his own feet, desperate to escape the room. But Mei Lin moved with an unnatural speed, gliding towards him, her icy fingers reaching out.

"Where are you going, husband?" she asked, her voice growing stronger, filled with a chilling possessiveness. 

"You are mine now."

Ah Hock stumbled out of the room, his screams echoing through the silent mansion. He fled down the grand staircase, his mind reeling, the image of Mei Lin's lifeless eyes burned into his memory. He burst out of the mansion and into the night, running blindly through the deserted streets.

He didn't stop running until he reached the relative safety of his own home, collapsing on his doorstep, gasping for breath. His mother, awakened by the commotion, rushed to his side, her face etched with worry.

Ah Hock, trembling and incoherent, tried to explain what he had seen, but the words caught in his throat. His mother, dismissing it as wedding night jitters, soothed him with calming words and led him to bed.

But Ah Hock knew what he had seen. He was trapped in a horrifying union with a ghost, a bride from beyond the grave. Sleep evaded him, every creak of the house, every rustle of the wind, sending shivers down his spine. He feared the night, knowing that Mei Lin would be back.

And she was. Every night, she would appear in his room, her ghostly form growing stronger, her demands more insistent. She wanted him to fulfill his marital duties, to join her in the afterlife.

Ah Hock's health deteriorated rapidly. He grew thin and pale, his eyes haunted by fear. His mother, alarmed by his condition, sought the help of a Taoist priest. The priest, after hearing Ah Hock's terrifying tale, confirmed their worst fears. Mei Lin, unwilling to accept her fate, was tethered to the mortal world by the ghost marriage, and she was slowly draining the life force from Ah Hock.

A desperate struggle ensued. The priest, armed with talismans and chants, battled the vengeful spirit, attempting to sever the bond and release Mei Lin to the afterlife. The house shook with the clash of spiritual forces, the air thick with incense and the smell of ozone.

Finally, as dawn broke, the priest managed to subdue Mei Lin, her ghostly form fading into the morning mist. Ah Hock, weak but alive, was free. He never fully recovered from the ordeal, the memory of his ghost bride forever haunting his dreams. He never married, dedicating his life to caring for his mother and honoring the memory of the girl who was forever trapped between worlds.

The story of Ah Hock and his ghost bride became a whispered legend in Malacca, a chilling reminder of the unseen forces that lurked beneath the surface of the ancient town.