Creepypasta Corner

Umbra Domina

I will never soon forget the day I met her. On December 5, 1988, I met her. Serena Umbrae, my wife. She has black hair that blends with the night sky, a figure that was desired by every other boy in our class. Then there were her eyes, oh goodness her eyes. They were that kind of shimmering silver that you see reflected on the ocean at midnight. I saw a lot of that in my college days, living in St. Augustine.

We met in Flagler College, that ancient building in St. Augustine that fills me with hope for the current generation. We are both big into fine art, sharing the same inspiration for our drawings and paintings. Our inspiration came from Starry Night by Vincent van Gogh. I wasn't really big on sketching. But my wife is. I'd always see her with that pen and that sketch pad, drawing away. And here's the weird thing. I never found out what it was she was working so hard on.

We left Flagler College as a happy couple, still dating, and we never got sick of each other, and we were constantly told that we were the cutest couple, me being such a dark and odd fellow and her being the bubbliest person that there ever was. We eventually moved in with each other, and, not long after that, got married. I proposed to her on a full moon on the St. Augustine Beach, symbolizing the Starry Night that inspired us as young adults. She thought it was so romantic she just couldn't say no. The wedding was beautiful, but nowhere near as beautiful as my wife. But even after we were married, she continued working in her sketch pad. Sometimes I feel as if she loves that pad more than me. But now I know why.

Well, I tend to watch the news a lot more than I used to, and there was the weather, the abductions, the murders. But worst of all, there was a picture of what looked like my wife and her note pad. Then, with a small touch of static, a sketch of Starry Night, drawn in blood, appeared; half finished with "I'm Sorry" scribbled onto the unfinished half. I turned around, and there she was.

My wife stood at least a foot and a half taller, with dark hairy appendages protruding from her back. In her hands was a finished sketch of Starry Night, drawn in blood. But the moon was a skull. And a signature of what appeared to be darker blood was "Umbra Domina." And that's it, that's all I remember. I just remember waking up in this strait jacket.

I can still see that skull to this day. But trust me, Umbra Domina is still out there, and it's still in need of blood for her next masterpiece.