Ghost Story

Late at night, I was woken up by a rustling sound. The sound was coming from under the bed. Mustering my courage, I bent down to look and found a neatly folded bright red wedding dress under the bed that hadn't been there before. I remembered with terror what my grandmother had said before she passed: 'If you see a wedding dress in the middle of the night, it means the King of Hell is arranging a ghost marriage...' I clamped my hand over my mouth, barely managing not to scream. The wedding dress was dazzlingly red, embroidered with golden dragons and phoenixes, the stitches so fine they didn't seem human. Trembling, I reached out to touch it; the fabric was cool and smooth, feeling like living skin. 'Does it look good?' An aged voice came from behind me. I spun around sharply to see my grandmother, wearing that wedding dress, sitting on the edge of my bed, her embroidered shoes dangling mid-air, her toes not touching the ground. Her face was caked with thick white powder, her lips a dark red, and she grinned at me, 'Granddaughter, Grandma's here to find you a groom.' I wanted to run, but my body felt nailed to the bed. My grandmother's withered hand slowly rose, pointing under the bed—the wedding dress stood up on its own, empty, yet as if someone were wearing it. 'The groom has arrived,' my grandmother cackled. A sound like fingernails scraping wood came from under the bed, and a grayish-blue hand slowly emerged from the gaps in the wooden planks. If you don't mind, a small tip would be appreciated.