14May2026 Dear Diary,
I swear I saw him. I felt him. I kissed him. His breath was warm, his mouth tasted of peppermintleafas it always did. He was wearing that oversized grey hoodie that always made him look like a softhearted bully. He was real. He held me all night, whispering I love you into my ear, promising wed marry next summer. I can replay every second: the way his fingers slid down my arm, the tears that fell whenever I wept, the passion that made me think my soul would split in two. And then he vanished.
I woke alone, but I wasnt frightened. I told myself Id gone for a jog, as I sometimes do after a storm. His cologne still lingered on the sheets, my skin still smouldered where his hand had been. Something didnt fit.
I called.
Again.
And again.
My best friend Grace burst into my flat, face as white as a church wall. She didnt understand why I was crying.
Sam you dont know, do you? she whispered.
I laughed. Know what?
James is dead.
I blinked. Dead how?
Her sobs grew louder. He died two days ago. Car crash on the night the thunder rolled over the M25.
No. No. No.
I shouted, shoved her away, accused her of being cruel, of making a joke. I showed her the text James had sent the night before, the voice note that said, Im coming over. I miss feeling your body next to mine. She stared at the phone, hands shaking.
Sam he couldnt have sent that. Hes already in the mortuary.
The world tipped. My knees gave way. I ran to the bathroom, grabbed the towel hed used, still damp. The hoodie hed left on the floor. The faint bite mark on my neck.
He had been there. He had to be.
The truth, though, was that James had been buried yesterday. And somehow, I had made love to him last night.
Days passed. Nights became unbearable. I couldnt sleep; every time I closed my eyes I saw himstanding at the foot of my bed, whispering in my ear. One night his voice drifted through the darkness: Dont cry, love. Im still with you. I tried to record it, but only static and my own terrified breathing came back.
Then my period stopped. Twice.
I blamed stress, grief, trauma. Until I vomited for the fifth time that day. I took a pregnancy test. Two pink lines. Positive.
I collapsed. The only person Id been with was James. But James was dead, buried, rotting. Yet something was growing inside me, kicking in the night, glowing beneath my skin when the lights went out. Whenever I wept and said I couldnt handle this, a whisper rose from the shadows:
Youre not alone. Our child is coming.
—
15May2026 Dear Diary,
I dont remember falling asleep. I only remember waking up in the bathtub, the stillwet test clutched in my hand, those two pink lines mocking my sanity. I hadnt spoken to anyone for daysnot even Grace. My phone rang dozens of times; each missed call flashed her name, but I ignored them all.
How do I explain Im carrying a baby fathered by a man whos been six feet under for a week? Who would believe me? Even I doubted myselfuntil last night.
Just as I was drifting into sleep, something pressed against my belly from within. It wasnt a normal kick. It felt deliberate, intelligent, as if trying to get my attention. I sat bolt upright, hands clawing at my stomach, and heard his voice again, inside my head.
Dont be scared, love. I chose you.
I screamed and bolted from the bed, stared at my reflection, lifted my shirt. I swear I saw a faint blue pulse just beneath my skin, flickering, then gone. My legs gave out; I fell to the floor, sobbing.
The next day I forced myself to the hospital. I told the doctor that Id become pregnant after my boyfriend visited melying about dates, about everything except the symptoms: strange dreams, skin that seemed to glow, hearing a voice that wasnt there.
Her expression shifted from concern to a calm suspicion.
Well run some tests, she said quietly. Stress can do a great deal to the mind, especially when hormones are in overdrive.
She pressed her stethoscope to my belly. Her face went ashen.
I cant hear a heartbeat, but something moves.
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 before the results came back. That night I dreamed again. James stood by the old pond behind the house, his hoodie billowing in the wind.
Our child isnt like the others, he said, voice softer than the breeze. He is me and more.
What do you mean? I asked.
He only smiled sadly. Youll understand soon. But you must protect him.
I awoke to find the curtains fully drawn, though Id locked the windows. The hoodie from the dream lay folded neatly on the edge of my bed, still warm to the touch. I realised then that what grew inside me was real. It was his. And it was changing me.
The following day I finally called Grace. She arrived in a rush, wrapped me in a fierce hug, and listened as I showed her the glowing spot on my belly, recounted the dreams, the voice, the baby. She didnt laugh. She didnt shout. She whispered, We need to take 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, but you must be the last.
When I asked what she meant, her reply chilled me to the bone.
You carry the child of a bound soul. That baby is both a blessing and a warning. His father should never have returned. Now the door is open, and others are crossing.
Whos crossing? I asked.
Them, to take you.
Suddenly the lights flickered. A cold draft rattled the windows. From the shadows I heard James again:
Run.
—
16May2026 Dear Diary,
The room turned icy. The old womans eyes widened as shadows stretched across the walls like claws.
Hes here, she whispered, clutching a rosary made of twisted oak and bone.
Grace pushed me behind her. I was no longer afraid of James; I feared the things the old woman spoke ofentities that had been summoned because he had broken the rules.
She spread ash in a circle and instructed me to stand within it.
Dont leave that circle, no matter what. Hear me? You are now a bridge between the living and the dead. Bridges are crossed both ways.
I stepped into the ring. My belly glowed with that unsettling light again. The baby kicked harder than ever.
Then a chorus of voices rosedozens, perhaps hundredsshouts, moans, pleas, laughter, all from the darkness.
Tari, please, I whispered, though my mind knew the name would never be spoken again.
He appeared, but not as before. 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. I wanted one more night, one more moment. I didnt realise I was opening a door.
Tears streamed down my face.
Why me? Why the child?
He looked at my belly, then at me.
Because our love was stronger than death. But love like that shatters the laws.
From the darkness a twisted, halffaced creature emerged, eyes burning. It whistled at my sight. James shoved the monster away.
You cant have her! it snarled. 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 could not parse. Grace clutched my hand, crying, Sam! Stay in the circle!
I screamed as the creature lunged. James threw himself at it, pushing it back into the shadows. The old woman shouted,
NOW! Choose, girl! Life or love?
James, bloodied and fading, turned to me.
You must let me go, love. For our child. For you.
I shook my head, refusing.
You never truly left. I live in him now, in you. But if you cling, they will take everything.
The lights burst. The floor cracked. Shadows howled. I shouted his name, saying goodbye. In that instant he smiled and vanished.
Darkness receded. The monster screamed and dissolved into smoke. Silence fell.
I collapsed. The circle dimmed. My baby kicked once, then again, and finally settled.
Nine months later I gave birth to a boy. He didnt cry like other infants. He simply met my eyes, quiet and calm, as if he already knew everything. His skin faintly glowed in the dark. And sometimes, when I sing to him at night, I swear I hear a second voice harmonising with mineJamess voice.
I named him Jameson, after the man who never truly left.
He is not wholly mine.
Before he passed into the other side, he left me one final gift: a fragment of himself that no shadow can ever steal.
**Lesson:**Love that defies death can blind you to the truth, and some doors are best never opened.