**Diary 12April**
I swear I felt him. I touched him. I kissed him. His breath was warm, his lips tinged with peppermintas they always were. He was wearing that oversized charcoal hoodie he hated because it made him look like a softhearted brute. It felt real. He held me all night, whispering I love you into my ear, promising wed marry next summer. I remember every second: the way his fingers traced my arm, the tears that fell when I wept, the passion that made me think my very soul might split in two. And then he vanished.
I awoke alone, yet I wasnt frightened. I told myself I must have gone for a jog, as I sometimes do. His cologne still lingered on the sheets; my skin still smoldered where his hands had been. Something didnt fit.
I called. Again. And again.
Then my best friend, Eleanor, slipped into my flat, her face ashen. I didnt understand why she was crying.
James, she whispered. Dont you know?
I laughed. Know what?
Tobys dead.
I blinked. Dead how?
She sobbed louder. He died two days ago. Car crash. The night the storm hit.
No. No. No.
I shouted, shoved her away, called it cruel, said it was a joke. I showed her the text Toby had sent the night before: Im coming over. I miss the feel of you next to me. She stared at the phone, trembling.
James he couldnt have sent that. Hes already in the morgue.
The world tilted. My knees gave way. I rushed to the bathroom, grabbed the towel hed usedstill dampthe hoodie left on the floor, the faint bite mark on my neck.
He had been here. He had to be.
But the truth is Toby was buried yesterday. And somehow, I had been with him last night.
The days dragged on; the nights grew unbearable. I couldnt sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw himsometimes standing at the foot of my bed, sometimes whispering in my ear. One night his voice floated to me: Dont cry, love. Im still with you. I tried to record it, but only static and my own terrified breathing came back.
Then I missed my period. Twice. I blamed stress, grief, traumauntil I vomited for the fifth time in a single day. I took a test.
Two lines. Positive.
I collapsed. The only person Id been with was Toby. He was dead, buried, rotting. Yet something was growing inside me, kicking in the night, glowing beneath my skin when the lights were out. Whenever I wept and thought I couldnt endure it, I heard a whisper from the shadows:
Youre not alone. Our child is on its way.
—
**Diary 23May**
I dont remember falling asleep. The first thing I recall is waking up in the bathtub, the pregnancy test clenched in my hand, those two pink lines mocking my sanity. I hadnt spoken to anyone for daysnot even Eleanor. My phone rang dozens of times, the caller ID flashing her name, but I ignored every call.
How could I explain I was carrying a baby fathered by a man whod been six feet under for weeks? Who would believe me? I didnt even fully believe myselfuntil that night.
Just as I drifted into a light doze, something pressed against my belly from within. It wasnt a normal kick. It felt deliberate, purposeful, as if trying to get my attention. I sat bolt upright, gasping, hands on my stomach. Then I heard it again: Tobys voice, inside my head.
Dont be afraid, love. I chose you.
I screamed, leapt out of bed, and stared at my reflection in the mirror, pulling my shirt aside. I could have sworn I saw a faint blue pulse just beneath my skin. It flickeredand vanished. My legs gave out, and I crumpled, 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 everythingexcept the symptoms.
Strange dreams. Skin that glows. Hearing voices that arent there, I recounted.
Her 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 mixed with pregnancy hormones.
She pressed her stethoscope to my belly. Her face froze.
I cant hear a heartbeat. Something is moving.
An ultrasound was ordered. While I lay on the cold metal table, the sonographers face went pale. 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. Toby stood beside the old pond behind the flat, the wind tugging at his hoodies hood.
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 woke to find the curtains wide open, though Id locked every window. The hoodie from the dream lay neatly folded at the edge of the bed, still warm to the touch. I realized then that what grew inside me was real. It was his. And it was changing me.
The following day I finally called Eleanor. She rushed over, wrapped me in a fierce hug, and listened as I showed her the glowing spot on my belly, recounted the dreams, the voices, the baby.
She didnt laugh. She didnt scream. She whispered, We need to get you somewhere safe.
She led me to an old stone cottage hidden behind her grandmothers church. Inside sat an elderly woman with long grey braids and pallid eyes. She looked at me once and said,
Youre not the first. 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. The baby is both a blessing and a warning. Its father shouldnt have returned. Now the door is open, and others are crossing.
Taking it away? I asked.
To take you.
The lights flickered, a cold draft swept through the windows, and from the shadows I heard Tobys voice again:
Run.
—
**Diary 8September**
The room grew 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 twisted oak and bone.
Eleanor shoved me behind her, but fear of Toby had long vanished. Now I feared the other things the old woman warned aboutthose who came because he had broken the rules.
She scattered ash in a circle and instructed me to stand inside.
Dont leave the circle, no matter what. Hear me? she warned. Youre a bridge now, between life and death. Bridges are crossed 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 emanating from the darkness.
Toby, please, I whispered. Whats happening?
He appeared, but not as before. His eyes were empty, filled with sorrow and fear.
Im sorry, he said. I didnt mean to drag you into this. I just wanted one more night, one more moment. I didnt know I was opening a door.
Tears streamed down my cheeks. Why me? Why the baby?
Because our love was stronger than death. Love like that breaks the laws.
A grotesque, twisted figure emerged from the shadows, halfface, eyes blazing. It whistled as it saw me.
Toby stepped between us. You cant have her! it roared. You cant take our child!
The monster laughed. You broke the rule, spirit. You touched the living. Now we feast.
The room shuddered. The old woman began chanting in a language I could not place. Eleanor clutched my hand, sobbing.
James! Dont leave the circle!
I shouted as the monster lunged. Toby shoved it aside, soaring through the air. The old woman screamed, NOW! Choose, child! Life or love?
Toby, bloodied and fading, turned to me. You must let me go, love. For our child. For you.
I shook my head, refusing. I cant lose you again!
You never lost me, he whispered. I live in him now, in you. But if you cling, theyll take everything.
The lights exploded, the floor cracked, shadows howled. With every ounce of pain left in my heart, I called his name and said goodbye.
He smiled as he vanished. Darkness receded, the monster shrieked and turned to 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 infants; he merely looked into my eyes, quiet and calm, as if he already knew everything. His skin glowed faintly in the dark. Sometimes, when I sing to him at night, I swear I hear a second voice harmonising with mineTobys.
I named him Thomas, after the man who loved me so fiercely that he would cross death itself. He isnt truly mine; hes partly his.
Before he moved on, Toby left me one final gift: a fragment of himself that no shadow can ever strip away.
**Lesson:** Grief can warp reality, but lovewhether alive or departedshould never be used to bargain with forces we dont understand. Protect the living, honor the dead, and keep your heart grounded in the world you can see.
