Loop

Every Sunday, Natasha brought her beautiful boy, Reyman, to the park. They would stroll hand-in-hand, then settle on a bench for snacks—delicious cookies, a pair of club sandwiches, and two glasses of juice. As they ate, Natasha would tell the same story, a tale she seemed to cherish deeply.

"Reyman, you were always such a sweet boy," Natasha would begin, her voice soft and tender. "You never caused trouble, always listened, never lied. You respected your elders and did everything we asked of you. You were perfect. One day, you'll grow up to be a wonderful engineer, a loving partner, a devoted husband, and a caring father. You'll bring your children to this very park and tell them this story. By then, you'll have married a beautiful woman." As she spoke this specific line, Reyman would blush, and Natasha's eyes would glisten with tears. 

Days passed, and so did the seasons. Seven years slipped by, and Natasha continued her ritual with Reyman, even as he grew older and more handsome. Now twelve years old, Reyman still listened as his mother told the same long, old story, her voice filled with the same soft tenderness as always.

Aunt Mary, a park regular, watched them from a distance. She had seen Reyman grow from a small child to a handsome boy of twelve. Aunt Mary often accompanied them, offering Natasha hot herbal tea and young Reyman a cup of hot chocolate. Every weekend, every year, she would sit with them and carefully listen to Natasha's story, taking in every word as the ritual unfolded. Her curiosity piqued, and Aunt Mary asked Natasha one day, "Why do you tell him the same story every week?"

Natasha smiled sadly. "As a single mother, I want to fill him with good thoughts," she replied.

"But he's twelve now," Aunt Mary pressed. "Surely, he needs to know more about the world."

Natasha's smile wavered. "I wish I could," she whispered, packing up their picnic mat and the sleeping Reyman. They walked away, leaving Aunt Mary with a growing unease.

That night, Aunt Mary couldn't shake off a disturbing thought. Why did Natasha always stop the story at Reyman's wedding with a beautiful woman? And why did Reyman blush and Natasha cry each time? Upon being asked, Natasha laughed and responded to Aunt Mary's question, "Oh, that's nothing," she said with a light-hearted tone. "By then, Reyman usually falls asleep, and I don't have any more story to cook. As long as he sleeps, my job is done." She stuck her tongue out playfully and blinked as if to emphasize the simplicity of her routine.

Mary gave a sigh of relief, chuckling softly. "Oh, I guess I worried too much," she said, feeling reassured by Natasha's explanation.

As Aunt Mary joined them again, Natasha repeated her familiar story, and as always, Reyman blushed while Natasha's eyes welled with tears. But this time, something was different. Reyman didn't fall asleep. Natasha looked down, her hair obscuring her face. The air grew still, as if nature itself was waiting for the story to continue. Aunt Mary leaned in closer, trying to see Natasha's face. Natasha's eyes were blood-red, tears streaming down her cheeks. She whispered, "I am sorry, son. I am sorry, son. I am sorry, son. She will not marry you but end up killing..."

Before Aunt Mary could react, Natasha abruptly stood up, forcing a smile. "It's late. Let's go," she said, gathering their things and leaving. Aunt Mary sat frozen, unable to move for hours, shaken to her core.

As she walked home, Aunt Mary passed Natasha's mansion. It was decorated as if for a wedding. The watchman greeted her warmly. "Aunt Mary, please come in. It's Master Reyman's wedding today."

Aunt Mary was confused. "Reyman is only twelve. How can he be getting married?" And how did the watchman know her? She had never visited the mansion before.

The watchman continued, "Natasha madam said you would come and asked to give you a special welcome."

Aunt Mary, now deeply disturbed, entered the house. Inside, the air was cold, and the atmosphere was unnervingly eerie. As she climbed the stairs, she heard a child's voice. "Aunt Mary, please help me! The ball won't listen to me." It was Reyman, younger, around five years old. It was the first time she had heard him speak in seven years. She followed the sound. Feeling chills strike her spine, as she reached the top of the stairs, she was shocked to see the present-day Reyman, of twelve, standing in front of a very tall door. The sight of him standing there, perfectly still, sent a wave of cold terror through her. He enterd the in a room where a wedding was taking place.

But the scene quickly transformed into a nightmare. The bride stood tall, holding a sword, her eyes filled with demonic rage. She turned towards Natasha and Reyman. In a horrifying instant, the bride struck, killing Reyman. As Natasha's blood-red tears fell, she screamed, "I'm sorry, son! I brought this demon into your life!" With a final, desperate look, she yelled at Aunt Mary, "Go away, or she will kill you too!"

The door slammed shut, and Aunt Mary found herself outside, trembling. She noticed a small box on a nearby table. Inside was a letter from Natasha, dated 25 years ago. It read, "Sorry, Peter. It had to end this way. We shouldn't have brought Lilly into Reyman's life. Mary, when you find this letter, help Peter!"

Aunt Mary was stunned. Who was Peter? Who was Lilly? How did Natasha know she would find the letter? And most chilling of all, what had happened to Reyman and his mother?

The mystery was far from over. The secrets of that day still lingered, waiting to be uncovered. Stay tuned to unravel the horrifying truth...