THE BRIDE

As Grace hastened down the hallway, the lightbulbs flickered ominously, casting eerie shadows on the walls. She ignored the blood-curdling screams and unsettling pictures that hung like specters, their macabre presence seeming to watch her every move. Her mind was consumed by the disappearance of her fiancé, whom she hadn't seen or heard from since she woke up the previous day. Her friends, too, were nowhere to be found, and the few she had seen met a brutal end, their mutilated bodies a grim testament to the horrors within.

What was meant to be her wedding day had transformed into a desperate fight for survival. Grace found herself trapped in her fiancé's house, with locked doors and windows covered in dust and iron bars, giving the place a foreboding, prison-like feel. She avoided gazing out the windows, fearful of what she might see. Every time she dared to look, a family of five stared back at her, their presence sending shivers down her spine.

The family's attire seemed frozen in time, their outdated clothes tattered and worn. The parents, if they could be called that, looked inhuman, their decaying skin jagged and twisted. The husband, dressed in a long, dirty black caftan, appeared older than his wife, who wore a dirty lacey pink dress that seemed to be disintegrating