Admiration

There was only one rule: don’t open the door.

It wasn’t such an odd request from my new husband. He had been a bachelor for so long, of course there were going to be places in his house that he would be reluctant to share with me at first. It didn’t bother me too much that he wanted to keep me out of the hallway closet.

Until the third night. That was when I began to hear the wailing.

I thought that I was dreaming, sleepwalking, even. Yet the closer that I got to the forbidden door, the more certain that I was that I was hearing a blood-curdling wailing coming from the other side.

Then a little voice inside my mind whispered, Open it.

I shook my head. I knew that my husband would be furious if I did.

Still, that wailing…

I swallowed against the hard knot in my throat. Slowly, I forced my arm to reach for the doorknob. The cold metal bit at my palm; it was almost enough to convince me to stop, but still, I persisted. The knob turned, and the door creaked open.

Suddenly, the wailing stopped. And so did my heart.

Before me hung the bodies of two women, one blonde and one brunette. Behind them stood an altar with framed pictures of the women in life, chalices of some crimson liquid, and strands of their hair taped to the table. At the very end was a picture of me on my bicycle, an empty chalice, and a lock of my red curls.

“It’s time.”

I jumped at the sound of my husband’s voice. I turned around to find him standing behind me, a rope in his hand.

“Time for what?”

“For you to join my other wives.”