I was walking calmly down the street when behind me I heard a frantic voice calling my name.
I whipped around in a panic, certain I recognized the voice, certain I should not have been hearing it.
I started running, but feet can only go so fast; it wasn’t long before the footsteps came closer.
I was frightened, of course, but also intrigued; who was the strange figure pursuing me?
I hesitated then called out, “Who are you?” But when I looked, there was nothing, and only echoes responded.
I entered the cave and discovered it empty. The call must have originated somewhere else.
Hopefully not an empty parking lot, that would just be so cliché.
However, lo and behold, she found herself there amongst painted lines without a single car on the asphalt between them. “Really, you could at least have been creative.”
“Sorry,” God said. A greyhound bus materialized and promptly ran her down. “That better?”
“Thanks a lot,” she said, now a ghost. “I mean, being dead’s not half-bad, right?” God laughed. She knew nothing.
God knew. Nothing about death. Nothing about ghosts. Nothing about God. All of these things were unknowable. And so God smiled.
And the skies bled out. And the people danced in the streets.
The clouds were no more, leaving damp corpses lying on the dusty ground.