Episode1
I swear I saw him. I felt him. I kissed him. I tasted the mintfresh breath that was always his. He was wearing that oversized grey hoodie he loved to wear because it made him look like a softhearted bruiser. He was real. He held me all night, whispering I love you into my ear, promising wed tie the knot next summer. I remember every second the way his fingers slid down my arm, how he wept when I wept, how he made love with such a fury I thought my soul would split in two. And then he vanished.
I woke up alone, but I wasnt terrified. I told myself Id gone for a jog, as I sometimes did. His cologne still lingered on the sheets, my skin still tingled where his hands had been. Something didnt fit.
I called.
Again.
And again.
Then my best friend, Emma, burst into the flat, her face ashen. Sam you dont know, do you? she whispered.
I laughed. Know what?
Jacks dead.
I blinked. Dead how?
She sobbed harder. He died two days ago. Roadcollision on the night of the storm.
No. No. No.
I screamed, pushed her away, called her cruel for saying that, showed her the text Jack had sent the night before and the voice note that said, Im coming over. I miss feeling you next to me. She stared at the phone, shaking.
Sam he couldnt have sent that. He was already in the mortuary.
The world tilted. My knees gave way. I rushed to the bathroom, grabbed the damp towel hed used, the hoodie hed left on the floor, the faint bite mark on my neck.
Hed been there. He had to be.
The truth was that Jack had been buried yesterday. And somehow Id been lying with him last night.
Days slipped by. Nights became unbearable. I couldnt sleep. 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 floated to me: Dont cry, love. Im still with you. I tried to record it, but all I got was static and my own ragged breathing.
Then my period stopped. Twice. I chalked it up to stress, grief, traumauntil I vomited for the fifth time in one day. I took a test. Two pink lines. Positive. I collapsed. The only person Id been with was Jack. But Jack was dead. Buried, rotting, gone. Yet something was growing inside me, kicking in the night, glowing under my skin when the lights were out. And every time I wept and said 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 in the bathtub, the pregnancy test clutched in my hand, those two pink lines mocking my sanity. I hadnt spoken to anyone for daysnot even Emma. My phone rang dozens of times, the screen flashing her name, but I ignored every call.
How could I explain that I was carrying a child with a man whod been underground for weeks? Who would believe me? I didnt even believe it fully, until that night.
I had just drifted off when something pressed against my belly 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 on my stomach, and heard his voice again, inside my head.
Dont be afraid, love. I chose you.
I screamed, bolted out of bed, lifted my shirt in the mirror, and swear I saw a faint blue pulse just beneath my skin. It flickered then vanished. My legs gave out, and I collapsed, sobbing.
The next day I forced myself to the hospital. I told the doctor that Id become pregnant after my boyfriend visited me, lying about dates and everything except the symptomsstrange dreams, skin that seemed to glow, hearing a voice of someone who wasnt there.
The doctors expression shifted from concern to a calm suspicion.
Well run some tests, she said gently. Stress can do a lot to the mind, especially when mixed with pregnancy hormones.
She pressed her stethoscope to my belly. Her face went pale.
I cant hear a heartbeat. Somethings 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 shining.
I left the hospital without waiting for results. That night I dreamed again. Jack stood at our old spot by the lake, the wind tugging at his hoodie.
Our child isnt like the others, he said, his voice softer than the breeze. He is me and something more.
What do you mean? I asked.
He only smiled sadly. Youll understand soon. But you must protect him.
I woke to find the curtains wide open, even though Id locked every window. The hoodie from the dream was folded neatly on the edge of the bed, still warm to the touch.
Then I knewwhat grew inside me was real, it was his, and it was changing me.
The following day I finally called Emma. She rushed over, wrapped me in a fierce hug, and listened to everythingshowed her the glowing spot on my belly, talked about the dreams, the voice, the baby.
She didnt laugh. She didnt shout. She whispered, We need to get you somewhere.
She led me to an old cottage hidden behind her grandmothers church. Inside sat an elderly woman with long grey braids and pale eyes. She looked at me once and said,
Youre not the first. Youll 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.
Taken away? I asked.
To take you.
The lights flickered. A cold draft swept through the windows. From the shadows I heard Jacks voice again:
Run.
Episode3
The room grew icy. The old womans eyes widened with fear as unnatural shadows stretched across the walls like claws.
Hes here, she whispered, clutching a rosary made of bone beads.
Emma pushed me behind her. But I was no longer afraid of Jack. I was terrified of whatever the old woman meantof the things that were coming because hed broken the rules.
She scattered ash in a circle and told me to stand inside.
Dont leave, no matter what, she warned. Youre a bridge now, between life and death. Bridges carry traffic both ways.
I stepped into the circle. My belly glowed with that same unsettling light. The baby kicked harder than ever.
Then the voices camedozens, maybe hundredsscreams, moans, pleas, laughter, all from the darkness.
Jack, please, I whispered. Whats happening?
I saw him, but he was different. 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 door.
Tears streamed down my face.
Why me? Why the baby?
He stared at my belly, then at me.
Because our love was stronger than death. But love like that breaks the laws.
From the shadows a twisted, halffaced monster with burning eyes emerged, whistling at the sight of me. Jack stepped between us.
You cant have her! the creature roared. You cant take our child!
The monster 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. Emma clutched my hand, crying, Sam! Stay in the circle!
I screamed as the monster lunged. Jack hurled himself at it. The old woman shouted,
NOW! Choose, girl! Life or love?
Jack, bloodied and fading, turned to me.
You have to let me go, love. For our child. For you.
I shook my head, sobbing.
No, I cant lose you again!
You never lost me. I live in him now, in you. But if you cling, theyll take everything.
Lights burst. The floor cracked. Shadows howled. With the last ounce of heartache, I shouted his name and said goodbye.
He smiled as he vanished. Darkness receded. The monster shrieked and dissolved into smoke. Silence fell.
I collapsed. The circle dimmed. The baby inside me kicked once, then again, then settled.
Nine months later I gave birth to a boy. He didnt cry like other newborns. He just stared at me, calm and quiet, as if he already knew everything. His skin faintly glimmered in the dark. And sometimes, when I sing to him at night, I swear I hear a second voice harmonising with mineJacks voice.
I named him Jack Jr., after the man who never truly left.
Before he crossed over, he left me one final gift: a piece of himself that no shadow can ever steal.
THE END.
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