“Just my little joke.” She coughs and her face twists, more blood spilling now from her mouth. “Gotcha, Larry.”
And as I watch, in a slow exhalation, the air escapes her throat. Her eyes lose their focus and freeze into a sightless stare.
“Juliana?”
She doesn't move, quite still. No lift to her chest. No flutter to her eyelids.
“Juliana?”
She doesn’t move again.
I’m quite alone.
No-one knows I’m here.
No-one is coming.
I gaze into the abyss.
And the abyss gazes back.
*****
‘The Master’s Child’ Concludes In
‘Natale’
