"It's going to happen..."

"What was that, dear?"

"It... It's gone wrong."

"Julia? Julia, love, what's gone wrong?"

Julia McKenzie didn't turn. The glass slipped from her hands: the shards rattled and rolled across the cheap laminate floor. Her husband, Samuel, peered at her back.

"Julia? What is it? You're scaring me, darling," he said, trying to keep the quaver out of his voice.

"It's happening. Sam, it's happening!" She turned, suddenly frantic. Grappling at his clothes. Fighting to stay on her feet. Raking her nails into his skin.


"You said it would happen! You said!"

"But- No! No, I didn't mean for it to- No! Not yet, I'm not ready!" He wailed into her spasming face, "I'm not ready!"

"Samuel, you said... you..." Julia collapsed onto her knees, the horrified Sam falling with her; holding her off the floor and the broken glass. Her voice grew faint, and eventually she was just mouthing his name.

"Julia!" Sam yelled, as she went rigid in his arms, and then slumped against him. Her head staring straight ahead, and over his shoulder.

There was silence.

Sam drew his head back, to try and look at her. He bit back a gasp: Julia's eyes had turned a dense black, from lid to lid, and an inky shadow was infiltrating the surrounding skin like a giant bruise.

"Julia, Jules, July, baby doll, please don't do this... please..." he begged and pleaded.

A green circle began to glow where her irises had once been. Sam felt a shiver craw its way down his spine.

Julia moaned. The noise was fingers on chalkboard, screeching cars, worse. Samuel clutched her to him, trying to pillow her head on his shoulder; but Julia was immobile, the only sign of life was the slight swing of her limp arms as Sam shuddered, and the blood pumping sluggishly from the cuts on her legs.

He gritted his teeth as a horrific voice pierced the silence: "You said. You said it would happen..."

"Yes," he cried into her back.

"You knew. You knew it would happen..."

"Yes!" Tears forced their way out of Sam's eyes. Everything felt both numb and on fire.

"You made it happen..."

"No!" He protested, "No, I never did that!"

There was a sound that could have been called laughter, but laughter didn't usually cause physical pain to those listening. Sam clung on through the spasms and aches.

"You did it, Samuel McKenzie... We watched you do it. There is no denial."

A rip. A tear. An unearthly scream. Samuel was thrown backwards; the shards of glass sticking into his back.


A mirthless chuckle. The flutter of wings. Sam looked up at the silhouetted figure.

"Who's Julia?" It sneered.

Samuel screamed for a very long time after that, until there was—finally—silence.

Author note thingummy: Yeah...
It was written at half one in the morning, the plunnies did it! Don't blame me!