新娘潭的傳說，像一層薄霧，縈繞在香港大埔區的山林之間。白日裡，這裡是遠足者的天堂，溪水清澈，瀑布壯麗，鳥鳴聲聲，彷彿世外桃源。然而，一到夜晚，當最後一抹夕陽隱沒於山巒之後，整個山谷便被一種難以言喻的氣氛籠罩。那是一種說不上來的壓迫感，像是有什麼東西潛伏在黑暗中，靜靜地注視著每個闖入者。
小玲和幾位朋友正是這樣一群闖入者。那天，他們決定挑戰自己，選擇夜行遠足的方式來感受新娘潭的神秘。小玲其實不太情願，但看著朋友們興致勃勃，她也不好意思拒絕。傍晚時分，他們帶著手電筒和簡單的露營裝備，踏上了通往新娘潭的小徑。一路上，大家有說有笑，氣氛倒也輕鬆。然而，隨著天色漸暗，林間的氣溫明顯下降，原本熱鬧的鳥鳴聲也逐漸消失，只剩下遠處瀑布低沉的水聲。
「你們有聽過新娘潭的故事嗎？」阿健打破沉默，用半開玩笑的語氣問道。小玲心頭一緊，她當然聽說過這個傳說，但她不想談論它。她總覺得，有些事情說出口了，就會變得更真實。然而，其他人顯然對這個話題興致勃勃，開始七嘴八舌地討論起來。有人說，那哭聲其實是風聲；也有人堅持，那一定是新娘的冤魂不散。
走著走著，他們來到了傳說中的瀑布前。月光下，瀑布如銀緞般垂落，水霧在空氣中飄散，彷彿一層薄紗覆蓋在山谷之間。小玲不由自主地打了個寒顫，她總覺得有什麼東西在注視著他們，但環顧四周卻什麼也沒看到。阿健提議大家拍幾張合照作為紀念，於是他們站在瀑布前，用手機拍下了幾張照片。
拍完照後，他們繼續向前走，小玲卻忍不住回頭看了一眼瀑布。就在那一瞬間，她看到一個模糊的身影站在瀑布旁的岩石上。那身影似乎穿著白色長裙，背對著他們，長髮隨風飄揚。「等等！」小玲驚呼出聲，其他人停下腳步，看向她。「你怎麼了？」阿健問道。「我……我剛剛好像看到有人站在那邊。」小玲指向瀑布的方向。
大家順著她指的方向看去，但什麼也沒看到。「你是不是眼花了？」阿健笑了笑，但小玲卻不敢再多說什麼，只能默默跟著隊伍繼續前行。然而，她總覺得那個白色身影並沒有消失，而是一直跟在他們身後。
夜越來越深，他們決定在一處平坦的空地扎營。點燃篝火後，大家圍坐在一起聊天，但小玲卻始終心神不寧。她感覺到周圍的空氣越來越冷，火光下的影子似乎也變得更加詭異。突然，一陣細微的哭聲從溪邊傳來，那聲音若隱若現，像是一個女人低聲啜泣。
「你們聽到了嗎？」小玲低聲問道，臉色蒼白。「聽到什麼？」阿健皺眉，看向她。「哭聲啊！就在溪邊！」小玲幾乎要尖叫出聲，但其他人卻搖頭說什麼也沒聽到。「你是不是太累了？」朋友們試圖安撫她，但小玲知道，那哭聲是真實存在的。
深夜時分，小玲被一陣腳步聲驚醒。她睜開眼睛，看見帳篷外有一道微弱的光線晃動著。她以為是阿健出去方便，但仔細一聽，那腳步聲卻不像是人類發出的，更像是某種濕滑的東西在石頭上移動。她屏住呼吸，不敢發出任何聲音。
突然，那光線停在了帳篷外，小玲感覺到有什麼東西正在注視著她。她鼓起勇氣掀開帳篷的一角，卻什麼也沒看到，只剩下一片靜謐的黑暗和遠處瀑布低沉的水聲。
第二天清晨，他們收拾好裝備準備離開。小玲始終心神不寧，她總覺得有什麼東西跟著他們，但又無法確定是什麼。回到家後，她翻看昨天拍的照片，突然發現其中一張合照裡，在他們身後的瀑布旁，多出了一個模糊的白色身影。
那身影像是一位穿婚紗的新娘，長髮垂肩，低著頭。小玲嚇得差點把手機摔在地上，她立刻把照片給阿健看，但阿健卻說什麼也看不到。「你是不是想太多了？」阿健笑著說，但小玲知道，那照片上的白色身影，不可能是她的幻覺。
從那天起，小玲再也沒有踏足新娘潭。而那張照片，也成為她心底永遠解不開的謎團。每當夜深人靜時，她總會想起那個站在瀑布旁的白色身影，以及那若隱若現的哭聲。或許，新娘潭的傳說並不只是傳說，而是一段無法被時間掩埋的悲劇，在山谷間無聲地訴說著它的故事。
English Version
The legend of Bride’s Pool drifts like a thin veil of mist through the forests of Tai Po in Hong Kong, a place where nature and mystery seem to coexist in uneasy harmony, where by day the landscape appears welcoming and serene, filled with clear streams, cascading waterfalls, and the gentle chorus of birds that give hikers a sense of peace and escape from the city, yet as dusk settles and the last light slips behind the hills, the valley transforms into something far less comforting, as though an unseen presence awakens with the night, watching quietly from the shadows, waiting for those who dare to linger after sunset, and it was into this shifting atmosphere that Siu Ling and her friends ventured, not fully aware of how deeply the place’s stories would affect them, for what began as a simple night hike soon became something far more unsettling, something that would linger in memory long after they left, if they truly ever left at all, because even before they arrived, Siu Ling felt a quiet resistance inside her, a reluctance she could not quite explain, perhaps rooted in the stories she had heard before, whispers of a bride who had once met a tragic fate near the waterfall, her sorrow echoing endlessly through the valley in the form of soft, haunting cries, but surrounded by friends who laughed and joked about ghost stories, she chose to follow along, not wanting to be the only one who hesitated, and so as evening approached, they packed their flashlights and simple camping gear, stepping onto the trail that wound deeper into the forest, at first accompanied by cheerful conversation and the fading warmth of daylight, yet as the sky darkened, the air grew colder, the sounds of birds gradually disappearing until only the distant roar of the waterfall remained, a low, constant presence that seemed to pulse through the ground beneath their feet, and it was then that one of her friends, Ah Kin, broke the silence with a casual question about the legend of Bride’s Pool, his tone light but carrying an undercurrent that made Siu Ling uneasy, because she knew the story and preferred not to give it voice, as if speaking it aloud might make it more real, yet the others quickly joined in, debating whether the reported cries were nothing more than wind moving through the rocks or something far less explainable, and by the time they reached the waterfall itself, the conversation had left a subtle tension hanging in the air, the kind that cannot be easily dismissed once it takes hold, because under the pale glow of the moon, the waterfall appeared almost unreal, its silver stream falling like silk through drifting mist that wrapped the surrounding rocks in a ghostly haze, and standing there, Siu Ling felt a sudden chill run through her body, a sensation that had nothing to do with the temperature, as though she were being observed by something just beyond sight, something patient and silent, yet when she looked around, there was nothing but shadows and stone, and when Ah Kin suggested taking photos to capture the moment, they gathered together in front of the waterfall, smiling for the camera, the artificial brightness of the phone flash briefly cutting through the darkness, creating an illusion of safety that lasted only seconds before the shadows returned, deeper and more oppressive than before, and after the photos were taken, they continued along the path, yet Siu Ling could not resist glancing back one last time, and it was in that fleeting moment that she saw it, a vague figure standing on a rock near the waterfall, motionless and facing away from them, dressed in what appeared to be a long white gown, its shape softened by the mist, long hair drifting slightly as if stirred by a wind she could not feel, and the sight froze her in place, her voice catching in her throat before she managed to call out, causing her friends to stop and turn toward her with confusion, but when she pointed toward the figure, it was already gone, leaving nothing behind but empty stone and falling water, and though Ah Kin laughed it off, suggesting she had imagined it, she could not shake the certainty that what she had seen was real, that it had not simply vanished but withdrawn, perhaps choosing to remain unseen while still remaining near, following them quietly as they moved deeper into the forest, and as night settled fully, they found a flat clearing and decided to set up camp, lighting a small fire whose flickering glow cast long, shifting shadows that seemed to move with a life of their own, distorting the shapes of trees and rocks into forms that suggested something almost human, and while the others talked and laughed in an attempt to maintain a sense of normalcy, Siu Ling found herself unable to relax, her attention drawn constantly to the darkness beyond the reach of the firelight, where the forest seemed to watch them in silence, and it was during one of these quiet moments that she heard it, faint at first, almost indistinguishable from the sound of the waterfall, yet undeniably different, a soft, broken sob carried through the air, the sound of a woman crying somewhere near the stream, and when she asked the others if they could hear it, they insisted they could not, dismissing her concern as fatigue or imagination, yet the sound continued, rising and falling like a breath that refused to fade, embedding itself in her mind until she could no longer ignore it, and as the night grew deeper, exhaustion eventually pulled her into an uneasy sleep, though it was not a restful one, because sometime later she awoke to the sound of movement outside the tent, a slow, uneven shifting that did not resemble footsteps but something heavier, something dragging lightly across the ground, accompanied by a faint glimmer of light that flickered against the fabric of the tent, and holding her breath, she listened carefully, every sense heightened by fear, until the movement stopped just outside, and in that stillness, she felt it again, that unmistakable sensation of being watched, as though whatever stood beyond the thin barrier of the tent was aware of her, waiting for her to react, and gathering what courage she could, she lifted a corner of the tent and looked out into the darkness, yet there was nothing there, no light, no figure, only the endless blackness of the forest and the distant, unchanging sound of the waterfall, and when morning finally came, it brought no comfort, because though the sunlight revealed the familiar shapes of trees and rocks, it did not erase the memory of the night, nor the lingering feeling that something had followed them, something that had not been left behind in the valley, and after returning home, Siu Ling tried to convince herself that it had all been a product of fear and imagination, yet when she reviewed the photos they had taken, her certainty shattered, because in one of the images, behind them near the waterfall, there was a faint white figure that had not been there before, its outline blurred yet unmistakably human, standing silently with its head slightly lowered, as though caught between presence and absence, and when she showed the photo to Ah Kin, he claimed he could see nothing unusual, dismissing it as a trick of light or shadow, yet she knew what she saw, just as she knew what she had felt that night, and from that day forward, she never returned to Bride’s Pool, though the memory of it never truly left her, because in quiet moments, especially late at night, she would recall the image of that white figure standing by the waterfall and the soft, sorrowful crying that seemed to echo endlessly through the valley, and she could not help but wonder whether the legend was more than a story, whether it was the lingering trace of a tragedy that refused to fade, bound to the place where it had occurred, waiting patiently for others to arrive, to listen, and perhaps to see what she had seen, even if only for a fleeting moment, because some places do not simply hold stories, they become them, and in the case of Bride’s Pool, the line between past and present, between imagination and reality, feels thinner than it should, as though the veil separating them has worn away over time, leaving behind only echoes that continue to whisper through the trees, carried on the mist of the waterfall, never fully disappearing, never truly understood, and always, quietly, waiting.