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You're listening to a morbid network podcast.

She was beautiful in a strange mysterious way.

Her hair and her deep, bottomless eyes were as black as a velvet ribbon around her neck.

He planned to marry her before the next full moon rose in the autumn sky.

On their wedding, he watched her walk towards him up the long aisle.

She was dressed in a white gown, a white veil, and carried a bouquet of white flowers.

Even her face was ivory white, but below it, around the ivory neck, was a black velvet ribbon.

He remembered staring at that ribbon as the strains of the wedding march brought his bride near

to him. He remembered the curious and shocked looks on the faces of the wedding guests.

But then his eyes met hers, and he was drowning in their bottomless darkness.

He didn't think of the velvet ribbon during the rest of his wedding day.

It was a joyous time, and if people thought his wife was a bit strange, they kept that to themselves.

That night, when they were alone, he saw that the ribbon was still there, still circling her lovely neck.

Don't you ever take that ribbon from around your neck? He asked, hoping his question was a needless one.

You'll be sorry if I do. His wife answered, so I won't.

Her answer disturbed him, but he did not question her further. There was plenty of time for her to

change her ways. Their life together fell into a pleasant pattern. They were happy,

as most newly married couples are. He found her to be a perfect wife. Well, nearly perfect.

Although she had a great number of dresses, and wore a different one every day, she never changed

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