Beyond The Dunes

the Book

A man is dead. He was murdered in his sleep.

As Jack looks at his lifeless body, he then becomes aware that he is dead. He begins to question how and why. Jack follows the people involved in the investigation and discovers a file sent from his good friend from London with a message, “To guard with his life.” Now, it is the spirit’s mission to find out who is after the file and his life.

Along his supernatural adventure, he meets the spirit of a strikingly beautiful woman. Together, the two spirits form a partnership that keeps each other from succumbing to eternal peace.

Jay Lillie

the Author

Jay Lillie discovered his fondness for creative writing at a young age; he’d accumulated a carton-full of short stories stored in their attic by the time he finished high school. However, college and his professional success held back his passion for creative writing. Now, Jay Lillie has published many novels on Amazon.



I no longer have any sense of time. Its passing has no meaning for me anymore. I only recognize the essence of time when watching those who are alive move through it. My wife, Jane, is entering the bedroom now in her nightgown and closing the window. I rush to her side to console her with this unexpected loss, but I whisk right through and am face to no face with a man I recognize as my general practitioner. They are talking about the body laying in the bed . . . the one I used to inhabit.

Speaking of hands, I need to grow a pair. What powers do I have to move objects around? Every ghost I’ve ever heard about could do all kinds of things like that. Can I wish it? I do seem to be able to concentrate. Maybe I need to move into another universe. I tried blowing, fast movement, closing down everything I can see. What about things I can’t see?

The bathroom door opens and a lady comes in. Oops, I didn’t think about that. She checks herself out in the mirror and moves to one of the stalls. In frustration, I go and sit on her lap as she sits down. No reaction. I turn, so I’m facing her front to front. Still no reaction. I fly to the ceiling and look down at her. She screams and scrambles to pull up and run out. I follow, staying at ceiling level, as she runs down the hall to the lab where my body was examined, opening and closing three doors, and finally, she stops and leans against a desk, which is probably hers. Then she looks up at me on the ceiling and faints.

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