Her Unborn Child

The vapor form of the spirit shifted, face disappearing, body gaining solidity—or at least a solid outline—and Lois made out the slim shoulders, the swelling breasts, and the unmistakable dome of pregnancy, legs a mere hint and suggestion.

Even given the shifting, ephemeral nature of the phantasm, the reporter's keen eyes spotted certain details—the pattern of the dress, in the same style of the photograph that had shown the mother-to-be's corpse on the pavement outside the club, the darker stains around the nipples, as though milk were leaking through the fabric, the little nipple on the belly where her navel had popped out...and all Lois could think of was that old line in Dickens "I wear the chain I forged in life...I made it link by link, and yard by yard; I girded it on of my own free-will, and of my own free-will I wore it."

I so wanted to be a mother. The spirit-voice of Louise Louvaine echoed eerily without any mouth of throat to create it. The shadow of hands pressed on that great belly. I cannot move on...we cannot move on, until my task is finished. You have no idea what it is like!

For days I gave myself to any man that would have me. Suffered defilement as they slaked their lusts in me. I discarded my reputation, my standing, all so that I could enjoy what the meanest dog in heat does. I did it willingly, wanting so long to be...not alone.

The spirit form suddenly doubled over, compressing itself, arms hugged around that swollen belly. Lois felt a tug on her own heart at the spirit's obvious distress.

So close. So close to creating life. I would have given anything...everything...I loved her. I had already named her. You don't know... The ghost-thing was rocking back and forth on the floor. The reporter licked her lips and knelt down, unsure what to do or say...and decided to say it anyway.

"I'm sorry," Lois tried to place a hand on one frail shoulder, but her soft pink flesh passed through the cold mist, scattering it. "I wish I could help..."

The ghost of Louise stopped rocking and raised up a neck. The face began to coalesce again, the rest of her losing detail as those dark, magnetic eyes and generous mouth came back into being.

Do you mean it? The dark eyes were almost solid for a moment, ectoplasmic tears running from them.

"Um...yeah, I don't know how I can, but if there's anything I could do to...help you rest, I'm happy to do it." Butterflies flit through Lois' stomach, suddenly uneasy at the spirit's shift in demeanor. She knew it was the right thing to offer, but the question still nagged at the back of her mind: What am I getting myself into?

Oh thank you, thank you!