Do you believe in love? Is it real? Have you ever felt it or lived it? Can it hurt in any way? Can love lead to death?
If the horror I went through in the name of love in 2009 was lived and recounted by another person, I would never believe it. This is a choice, just like the ones I made earlier in my life. After reading my story, what will be yours?
For the sake of the post, let me summarize my past to the loss of my father very early in my life, an absent mother, an addiction, a turbulent upbringing and a rehab.
After struggling to mend my life and at the age of 32, I found my first employment as a waitress in a fast food. A mundane place yet the setting of a beautiful encounter.
That busy afternoon, the entire place froze when he stepped in. Unfazed by their attention, the man passed through countless elegant and charming girls and approached me while I was serving coffee.
“Lorenzo.” He simply said with a smile without greeting, and extended his arm to take my hand as if he invited me to dance.
“Melanie.” I answered with a trembling voice, my soul bared by his piercing green eyes.
“Kathryn.” The lady I served coffee to spoke, intruding into our moment.
He simply smiled at her, then looked back at me and that marked the beginning of something I had never experienced in my life: love, mixed with prestige and luxury to crown it all.
Despite his multimillionaire status and outstanding beauty, Lorenzo preferred to lead a semi quiet life. He opened his cozy house to me, ordinary on the outside, lavish on the inside, surrounded by quiet people except for Mrs Jennings, his old nosy neighbor.
Genuine feelings arose from the relationship. Because of the money, the prestige, the beauty, the status, the laughters and the personality? No. Rather because of what I considered greater than all these: acceptance.
I still consumed a few shady stuff at that time, and I do not tick all the boxes of beauty standards and required personality. However, Lorenzo chose not to judge me and instead saw me as what I obviously was: a person.
One morning in March 2009, I woke up and immediately saw a trail of petals going from my pillow to out of the bedroom. I followed the trail to the garden, where red roses formed words that melted my soul:
‘Melanie, will you marry me?’ I read, before finding Lorenzo bowing the knee behind me and holding a ring.
True to himself, Lorenzo proposed a small wedding. I accepted the idea, because I was ready to trade a one day big ceremony for a lifetime with the love of my life.
We spent our wedding in absolute delight after exchanging vows. I would have labeled it a perfect day if not for a strange woman, standing far away, who stalked us throughout the whole ceremony.
If you clicked on this post for the sole reason of being scared or intrigued by it, then I apologize for keeping you waiting. Now, you are about to get served.
A few weeks after the wedding, Lorenzo suddenly fell sick and started coughing up blood. The same day, he traveled to meet with his ‘personal doctor’ as he explained to me, and I was left all alone in that big house.
From the following morning, my days in that house were darkened by excruciating pains in the lower belly that randomly started and stopped, and by unexplainable things only happening within its walls. Things that I chose to never share with him.
Sometimes, I would tidy the bedroom, go and take a shower, only to come back and find the place completely trashed. The first time it happened, I thought it was the work of a robber and I ran out of the house for a few hours. As a substance consumer, I did not contact authorities for obvious reasons.
The most common occurrence was seeing shadows moving in a room from the door bottom, or instead hearing a woman inside, humming what resembled a lullaby. I would then gather the courage to open the door only to find the room empty.
I have always wanted to own one or several clothing stores, and with my husband’s support, I had the opportunity to realize that dream. So one day, to conquer boredom and instead of succumbing to addiction, I decided to do something more productive, therefore, I went to a mall to analyze the competition.
Every inspection I made from store to store enlightened my day as I felt like doing something good out of my life and time, but all the joy vanished as soon as I noticed him.
Scanning me with his eyes while his colleague was talking to a security guard, the man seemed to recognize me. Their suits and sportive builds spelled one terrifying word for me: cops.
I froze while he kept on staring, then I turned to begin my escape, walking as fast as I could, and he immediately gave chase. For at least five minutes, we snaked through the crowded place, until I finally escaped him with the help of a taxi, abandoning my car for a later and safer retrieval.
Then came Tuesday, 09 June 2009, the most horrible day of my life. From the start, whatever haunted that house decided to raise the bar and woke me up, in the form of a woman sobbing in the bathroom.
One important detail about the matrimonial room is that it was ‘En Suite’ which means that there was a bathroom directly connected to the bedroom.
“Why? Whyyyy? Why? Why?” The woman repeated, sobbing bitterly in the bathroom.
Dressed with a singlet top and my underwear, I quickly wore a jogging pants before investigating the strange occurrence. I placed my hands on the door, then my right ear, but the lady stopped on the spot.
She then banged on the door, right where my ear was and yelled: LEAVE HIM ALONE!
I fell on the floor, trembling in fear and crawling backwards, while she kept on banging on the door. I turned to run away and the banging stopped, letting an ominous silence usher in the next horror that awaited.
My eyes widened at the sight of my wedding dress, standing at the other end of the room, as if worn by an invisible person. Large stains resembling mold then slowly appeared on it, and the stains grew bigger one second after the other, before the dress quickly slid towards me.
Adrenalin and fear carried me out of that house and into my car in a few seconds, under the curious look of nosy Mrs Jennings that I ignored. I drove off, not knowing where I was going and parked around twenty minutes later near a convenience store.
Recovering from what I saw and heard, I contemplated the idea of contacting my dealer but finally overcame the temptation after around thirty minutes. Instead, I chose to go to the store and buy cigarettes, still shaking to the core.
I went back into the car and took the first cigarette out, when I felt a hand covering my mouth and something cold yet sharp land on my throat. At the same moment, I froze and the lower belly pains arose.
“Not a move, not a sound, or it will be your last one.” She said with a thick accent, making sure to pronounce every letter of every word. “Now move the rear view, I want you to see me.”
The mirror revealed her identity to me. She was the woman stalking us during the wedding ceremony. Parts of her long black hair covered one of her eyes, leaving one hatred filled eye stab my soul.
“No longer looking good uh? I guess the others started visiting.” She said, not making sense to me. “Listen good, I’m Amandine. I don’t have anything against you, but I have unfinished business with your dear husband. I don’t care if you tell him what I will tell you. Either way I will catch that bastard. Everything you’re living is fake. The wedding, the paid actors at the ceremony and all the money is dirty.”
She shook her head, and I could see her trying to contain a burning anger before she continued.
“What I want you to do is to move out of my way if you don’t want to get a bullet. When I’m gone, check your glove compartment. There’s a journal there that will tell you why I’m doing this, and why you should run for your life, today, now.” She spoke before releasing me and she exited the car calmly.
I sped off, once again not knowing where to go. That day was getting worse by the minute, and I started having a panic attack, losing my breath because of it. After a few minutes, I parked again, near a school.
Breathing heavily, I managed to calm down and collected myself. I checked the glove box and there it was, the next thing that would make me learn what I had to know and qualify me for the next level of horror.
All the data inside was research about Lorenzo, everything. Instead of explaining in detail what I saw and make this post longer, let me summarize it properly for you.
The first page mentioned something about the corruption and perversion of a sacred union, the primary work of a pagan goddess through a ritual called the 9 vows.
The second page mentioned that the name of the goddess was unknown and there was a representation of her: the statue of a woman with many tentacles replacing her arms and legs and insect wings on her back.
Page 3: the 9 vows ritual consisted of marrying a partner on the 9th of a month, then sacrificing him or her to the goddess on the 9th of the next month, during the night and before midnight, to be granted 9 years of youth, beauty and riches. Once started, the ritual had to be completed. The maximum number of marriages was 9, and after the 81 years of pleasure, the goddess will claim the soul of the occultist.
Page 4: the old picture of a man resembling Lorenzo was pasted on the page along with words like occultist, bastard, the groom, blood sucker, etc…along with some information. Name: Wolfgang, Surname: unknown, Birthday: 1917, Place of birth: unknown.
Page 5: there was an old wedding picture of the man with a lady. It was written ‘1955, 38 years old and then known as Peter, marrying Lizbeth the 09 April 1955, England. Wife mysteriously dead the 09 May 1955. First bride.’
Page 6: another picture of him with another lady. Writings: ‘1964, still 38 years old and then known as Julio, marrying Esperanza the 09 May 1964, Spain. Wife dead the 09 June 1964. Second bride.’
Page 7: a picture of a lady named Valérie. Writings: ‘1967, bastard fell in love with mother. 1968, I was born and named Amandine. He tried to cheat the goddess by not marrying my mother to keep us alive, but the deity threatened his life. 1973, then known as Gustave, marrying Valérie the 09 June 1973, France. Mother made me flee with Aunt Camille, then died the 09 July 1973. Third bride.’
That Amandine was trying to get revenge on her own father? I thought. Curiosity dominated me as I continued.
Page 8: a picture of him and another lady. Writings: ‘1982, still young and 38, then known as Oleg, marrying Irina the 09 October 1982, Russia. Wife dead the 09 November 1982. Fourth bride.’
Page 9: a picture of the groom with another woman. Writings: ‘1991, still young, then known as Emilio, marrying Matilda the 09 March 1991, Brazil. Wife dead the 09 April 1991. Fifth bride.’
Page 10: a clear picture of Lorenzo, without a doubt, with another woman. Writings: ‘2000, still young, then known as Grant, marrying Leandra the 09 September 2000, Australia. Wife dead the 09 October 2000. Sixth bride.’
I turned the page, my heart beating so hard I felt necessary to hold my chest.
Page 11: a picture of us during the wedding. A picture that she took herself while stalking us from afar throughout the ceremony. Writings: ‘2009, still young, still that same bastard, then known as Lorenzo, marrying Melanie the 09 May 2009, United States of America. Expected death the 09 June 2009. Seventh bride.’
My heart sank. That had to be some delusional nonsense invented by a sick mind. Why would I believe her anyway? So, Lorenzo was supposed to be 92? That was some horror movie madness I could not believe.
I drove off and went back home. That afternoon, upon arriving, I found petals on the ground leading to the kitchen area, where I found Lorenzo standing, smiling, with his hands behind his back.
“You finally back.” He said, still smiling and he approached. “I was getting tired, you almost spoiled the surprise.”
“Hey honey! You back? But, why didn’t you call?” I said, trying to remain calm.
“I told you, a surprise.” He revealed a small gift in his left hand, then quickly placed his right hand in front of his mouth and blew on a powder that covered my face.
“What hav— what have you— Lor—” I tried speaking, instantly overwhelmed by dizziness and I crashed on the floor.
“Sorry Melanie, I’m running out of time.” I heard him say before I lost consciousness.
Candles. I remember seeing a lot of candles when I woke up. Chain noises resounded the moment I moved and I saw them tying my hands and feet, and also noticed the black wedding dress I was wearing.
I was inside a black circle interlaced with another one in which there was an old man kneeling and chanting incantations in front of the statue of the goddess.
A framed picture of Lorenzo and I was placed between two of its upper tentacles. When I saw the picture, the statue who stared down at the man, looked up and saw me. It was alive.
“I told— you to— run.” I heard an agonizing female voice saying from my left and I looked.
Pinned to the wall by an invisible force and in an unnatural position, Amandine was suffering, bleeding from a fight she obviously lost. Next to her was a clock displaying the time: 11:36 pm.
“Now— your husband will— kill you too.” She spoke. I realized who was the old man, and the nightmare I had just stepped into by letting Lorenzo in my life.
“Lorenzo? Honey? Lorenzo please.” I said, with tears streaming down my face. “Please don’t, please you don’t have to do that. Please.” I begged, ignored by the man. “WOLFGANG!” I called, making him stop his chanting as he froze.
“Melanie.” He said, before turning to me. I gasped when I saw his face. Half of it was that of an old man whose white hair was falling off his head as he moved. “It’s time.” He simply added.
At that instant, the statue of the goddess opened its mouth and her eyes shone in yellow. A powerful wind coming from her blew out the candles and would have plunged the room in darkness if not for the moonlight.
That was when behind me, I noticed a black stain on the wall in the shape of a door. After a short moment, I could see yellow eyes shining from the stain and a woman in a black wedding dress with a dagger in her chest emerged.
She was followed by five others clothed with the same dress, but those five were missing parts of their flesh as if they were devoured by something. They all looked pale, dead and enraged.
I screamed my lungs out at the sights of those women approaching, sliding on the floor like spirits, and I begged Lorenzo to spare my life. They all surrounded me and stared down with a hatred look no normal human can reproduce.
Amandine’s eyes were locked on one of them and she cried at some point as she recognized her. I recognized her too, in fact, I remembered all of them. Lizbeth, the first wife, with a dagger in her chest, and all the others: Esperanza, Valérie, Irina, Matilda and Leandra. They were the six previous brides.
Wolfgang turned to the goddess and was about to feed her with our wedding rings when all of a sudden, Amandine started singing, while crying. I could not understand the French words, but one thing was sure: it was the lullaby I sometimes heard being hummed by a woman in the house.
Valérie turned, looked at her daughter and with a mix of sadness, despair and anger, she let out a scream that shook the entire place like an earthquake.
“VALÉRIE!” A furious Wolfgang called.
Seizing the occasion, Amandine shouted something at her mother in French, and Valérie immediately turned towards Wolfgang, filled with hatred. He tried to put the rings in the goddess mouth, but Valérie extended her arm and paralyzed him.
He then chanted incantations and the other brides attacked Valérie but she repelled them, powered by revenge, her motherly love and the strong desire to save her daughter, even in death.
Wolfgang took advantage of the distraction to send Valérie flying with a simple movement of his arm and was about to feed the rings to the goddess when a man kicked the door open. It was the cop that pursued me in the mall, accompanied by two of his colleagues.
“Enough Wolfgang! Stop! Now!” The agent said, as he and his colleagues aimed at Wolfgang with some kind of rifles.
The groom tried to attack the agents with his powers but Valérie paralyzed him. The agent shot Wolfgang’s hand and he dropped the rings while screaming in pain but stopped when the goddess started laughing.
Amandine fell on the floor, released by Wolfgang’s powers. He looked at the goddess with fear in his eyes I never knew he could have. He looked at the clock and gasped. I looked too and it was 12:00 am. Wolfgang had failed.
Lizbeth started approaching, followed by the second bride and the others as they respected the hierarchy even in death. Wolfgang chanted incantations, while aging rapidly, struggling to stand and speak. The brides surrounded him, before they devoured him, ripping him apart with a violence and savagery that spelled payback.
In a matter of seconds, all that was left of Lorenzo was blood, only blood. Some of it was splattered on our framed wedding picture held by the goddess. Til death do us part, right? At least now, that serial widower was reunited with his wives.
The goddess and the brides disappeared a few seconds after Wolfgang’s demise. The agent proceeded to free me from the chains, helped by his colleagues and Amandine. He introduced himself as Harper and explained that he was part of a group formed by his father decades ago.
His father, a former respected special agent, fell from grace and was ridiculed for bringing doubted evidence about Wolfgang’s supernatural abilities. He then formed a group who tracked Wolfgang throughout all those decades. Years later, Harper had finally completed the work of his father, who died in bitterness without stopping Wolfgang. Amandine joined them as they believed there could be many other Wolfgang out there, cloaked in secrecy.
When Amandine snuck into the house to confront her father, Mrs Jennings spotted her and called the police. However, Harper intercepted the call and used trickery for his group to take charge instead.
Afterwards, I abandoned the house, the bloody and dirty money, everything Lorenzo had bought for me including the wedding ring, and I returned to my life with my heart shattered in pieces. It is in that dark place and in 2010 that I met my husband Darren, my true love and the father of my three marvelous children.
For the sake of the post, it is better not to explain how we met. Instead, allow me to end this on another positive note.
I am talking to you Lady, to you Sir. I do not know what were your answers to the questions at the beginning of this post. I do not know what you may have gone through. I do not know who you are and what you do or did, but I know one thing: you deserve love too. Everyone deserves love, even Wolfgang, or any other person with issues that simply needs to be helped first. Never give up on love, for a life without love is worse than death.
Just like myself, stand for what is right, fight for your life and the most beautiful, powerful force and emotion: Love.