**Episode1**
I swear I saw him. I felt his hands. I tasted his kiss. His breath was warm, his lips tinged with mintas they always were. He wore that oversized grey hoodie that always made him look like a softhearted bruiser. He was there, real as the night air. He held me all night, whispering I love you into my ear, promising wed tie the knot next summer. I can recall every second: the way his fingers traced my forearm, the way he wept when I wept, the way he made love with such a fierce passion I thought my soul might split in two. And then he vanished.
I awoke alone, but I wasnt frightened. I told myself Id gone for a jog, as I sometimes do. His aftershave still lingered on the sheets, and my skin still smouldered where his hand had been. Something, however, felt off.
I rang.
Again.
And again.
My best friend, Mabel, burst into the room, her face as white as a sheet. She didnt understand why she was crying.
James, she whispered, dont you know?
I laughed. Know what?
Arthurs dead.
I blinked. Dead how?
She sobbed harder. He died two days ago. Car crash on the night of the storm.
No no no, I shouted, shoving her away. Thats cruel, you cant say that. Look at the text he sent me last night, the voice note that said, Im coming over. I miss the feel of you beside me. She stared at the phone, trembling.
James he couldnt have sent that. Hes already in the mortuary.
The world tilted. My knees gave way. I raced to the bathroom, grabbed the damp towel hed used, the hoodie hed left on the floor, the faint bite mark on my neck. He had been there. He had to be.
The truth, however, was that Arthur had been buried yesterday. And, somehow, I had made love to him the night before.
Days slipped by. Nights grew unbearable. Sleep eluded me; every time I closed my eyes, I saw himsometimes standing at the foot of my bed, sometimes murmuring in my ear. One night his voice drifted to me: Dont cry, love. Im still with you. I tried to record it, but all I got was static and my own terrified breathing.
Then I missed my period. Twice. I blamed the stress, the grief, the traumauntil I vomited for the fifth time in a single day. I took a test. Two pink lines. Positive. I collapsed. The only person Id been with was Arthur, and he was deadlying in a grave, rotting away. Yet something was growing inside me, kicking in the dark, glowing beneath my skin when the lights went out. Every time I sobbed and declared I couldnt go on, I heard a whisper from the shadows:
Youre not alone. Our child is coming.
**Episode2**
I dont remember falling asleep. I only remember waking up in the bathtub, the pregnancy test clutched in my hand, those two pink lines mocking my sanity. I hadnt spoken to anyone for days not even Mabel. My phone rang dozens of times, her name flashing on the screen, but I ignored every call.
How could I explain that I was carrying a baby fathered by a man who had been six feet under for two days? Who would believe me? I didnt even believe myself, until that night.
Just as I was drifting off, something pressed against my womb from inside. It wasnt a normal kick. It felt deliberate, almost intelligent, as if it were trying to get my attention. I sat up gasping, hands gripping my belly, and heard his voice again, inside my head.
Dont be afraid, love. I chose you.
I screamed, bolted from the bed, and stared at my reflection in the mirror, pulling up my shirt. I could swear I saw a faint blue pulse just beneath my skin. It blinked, then vanished. My legs gave way; I collapsed, sobbing.
The next day I forced myself into A&E. I told the doctor that Id become pregnant after my boyfriend visited me. I lied about the dates, about everythingexcept the symptoms: strange dreams, skin that seemed to glimmer, hearing a voice that shouldnt have been there.
The doctors expression shifted from concern to a calm suspicion.
Well run some tests, she said cautiously. Stress can do a lot to the mind, especially when hormones are in play.
She pressed her stethoscope to my belly. Her face went pale.
I cant hear a heartbeat, she murmured, but something is moving.
She ordered an ultrasound. While I lay on the cold metal table, the sonographers eyes widened. She adjusted the scanner, silent until I asked what was happening.
Theres a fetus, she whispered, but its glowing.
I left the hospital without waiting for the results. That night I dreamed again. Arthur stood by the old lake where we used to meet, the wind tugging at his hoodie.
Our child isnt like the others, he said, his voice softer than the breeze. Hes me and something more.
What do you mean? I asked.
He only smiled sadly. Youll understand soon. You must protect him.
I awoke to find the curtains wide open, even though Id locked every window. The hoodie from the dream lay folded neatly at the foot of the bed, still warm to the touch. I knew then that what grew inside me was real. It was his, and it was changing me.
The following day I finally called Mabel. She rushed over, wrapped me in a fierce hug, and listened to my story. I showed her the luminous spot on my belly, told her about the dreams, the voice, the baby. She didnt laugh. She didnt scream. She whispered, We need to take you somewhere.
She led me to an old cottage hidden behind her grandmothers church. Inside sat a stooped woman with long grey braids and pale eyes. She looked at me once, then said,
Youre not the first, but you must be the last.
When I asked what she meant, her answer chilled me to the bone.
You carry the child of a bound soul. That baby is both a blessing and a warning. Its father shouldnt have returned. Now the door is open, and others are crossing.
What are they coming for? I asked.
To take you.
Suddenly the lights flickered, a cold draft swept through the windows, and from the shadows I heard Arthurs voice once more:
Run.
**Episode3**
The room turned icy. The old womans eyes widened in terror as shadows stretched across the walls like claws.
Hes here, she whispered, clutching a rosary made of pewter and bone.
Mabel shoved me behind her. I was no longer scared of Arthur; I feared the things the old woman had warned aboutthose who came because hed broken the rules.
She scattered ash in a circle, urging me to step inside.
Dont leave the circle, no matter what, she warned. Youre now a bridge between the living and the dead. Bridges are crossed both ways.
I stepped into the ring. My belly glowed with that same unsettling light, and the baby kicked harder than ever. Then the voices camedozens, maybe hundredsshouts, moans, pleas, laughter, all echoing from the darkness.
Tari, please, I whispered. Whats happening?
And then I saw him. His eyes were empty, filled with sorrow and fear.
Im sorry, he said. I never meant to drag you into this. I just missed you so much. I wanted one more night, one more moment. I didnt know I was opening a doorway.
Tears streamed down my cheeks.
Why me? Why the baby?
He looked at my belly, then at me.
Because our love was stronger than death. A love like that shatters the laws.
From the shadows a twisted, halffaced creature with burning eyes emerged, whistling a harsh tune. Arthur lunged between us.
You cant have her! the monster roared. You cant take our child!
The creature laughed.
You broke the rule, spirit. You touched the living. Now we feast.
The room shook. The old woman began chanting in a language I didnt recognize. Mabel clutched my hand, crying, James! Dont leave the circle!
I shouted as the monster lunged. Arthur threw himself at the beast, sending it sprawling. The old womans voice rose:
NOW! Choose, child! Life or love?
Arthur, bloodied and fading, turned to me.
You have to let me go, love. For our child. For you.
I shook my head, I cant lose you again!
You never truly lost me, he whispered. I live in him, in you. If you cling, theyll take everything.
The lights burst, the floor cracked, the shadows howled. With a final scream I called his name and said goodbye.
He smiled as he faded. Darkness receded, the monster shrieked and dissolved into smoke, and silence fell.
I collapsed. The circle dimmed. The baby inside me kicked once, then again, and settled.
Nine months later I gave birth to a boy. He didnt cry like other babies; he simply looked into my eyes, quiet and serene, as if he already knew everything. His skin faintly glowed in the dark. Sometimes, when I sing to him at night, I swear I hear a second voice harmonising with mineArthurs.
I named him Arthur Junior, meaning Arthur belongs to God, because he was never truly mine.
Before passing over to the other side, he left me one final gift: a fragment of himself that no shadow can ever steal.
THE END.
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