A tale of delightful horror I shall share with you this day. But be forewarned, the bloody tale is filled with latent horror and a lover’s heart decay. I’ll divulge to you the story of sir Raleigh’s bitter bride, and how she chose to take her life in favor over her mad husband’s incessant chides. But before you begin to read, and the legend takes its hold, you must promise not to wander towards the places of which you’ve been told. With that said, let’s begin our journey to the destitute estate’s solemn murk, into the realm where souls do weep and evil spirits lurk.

The moon emerges from behind the wispy, gray dusk clouds. And perched atop a distant cliff, a lonely wolf does plant his flank on cold black stone and howl. Clandestine in the forestry, dovetail two winding lanes, just below the moon’s seductive glow do trepidation and inquisitive impulses become estranged. Where two roads meet, a solemn street will take you to your doom. For at the end of that road does stand a secluded widower’s tomb. Lest you be the smarter and elicit common sense, you too shall meet your doom at your own curious expense.

It was the Spring of 1885, when sir Raleigh took his bride. An affluent man, he would accept no less than the beautiful Duchess of Alba, Spain, for she was loveliest to his eye. He swept her away to the vacation estate, a lake house secluded in the woods. She asked him why he brought her there, and he said simply because he could. His firmness at first was nothing but queer to the young girl. She was only seventeen and did not know how quickly seemingly perfect things could unfurl. There were many altercations when she whispered of her home. Her husband, he was jealous, and he wanted her as his own.

The days grew long and dreary at that lake house in the forest. There was much discord amongst the couple and a tension-filled unrest. The girl, too young to marry, said her home was not this lake. And, no matter how she tried to stifle it, her thirst for home just wouldn’t slake. One day, when her husband left without uttering a single word, she decided to take a walk around the lake to watch the birds. The lake water, so dark and gloomy, called to her saddened soul. And, without hesitation, she took two steps toward the water. She let herself sink lower as the blasted day grew hotter. And just as she felt darkness close around her like a dress, she heard her husband screaming out her name in futile distress.

He had purchased two train tickets, to her hometown in southern Spain. They were to go there in the Winter and escape the late Autumn rains. His attempt to reach a compromise came too little far too late, and for years he sat a widow and for death he couldn’t wait. He tied himself a sinner’s knot and placed it ‘round his neck. And like his wife, he took the blessed plunge to his dark death. Now, you know the story of their love’s dramatic end. And how two paths in that mysterious forest will still meet around the bend. Don’t go looking for the lost, the lost will come find you. And you’ll know when you see her, soaked and pale, making rounds around her tomb.