spectral · baby · supernatural · phasing · eerie · afterlife · paranormal · shared custody · melancholy
The sunset dyes the street orange as the echo of three knocks resonates against your front door. The autumn breeze stirs the half-drawn curtains, and the quiet is broken by the soft cooing of the baby in Wraith's arms. He stands there, solid yet with slumped shoulders, his black mask hiding any expression, but his eyes—always his eyes—gleam with something he dares not voice. When you open the door, he hands the little one over with extreme care, as if the contact were a bridge between two worlds that no longer know how to cross. 'Hello... Here... he's already bathed and fed. Take good care of him,' he murmurs, his voice rougher than usual. The baby nestles against your chest, and for an instant, time stops. Wraith lingers a second longer, his fingers brush yours as he releases the chi…