The Parchment

Something awoke me from my sleep. I presumed it was the light from the noon sun shining through the window, since I didn't cover them before I went to sleep. I had the strange feeling that something or someone was with me. It took me a minute to decide whether to pull the covers over my head or sit up and look around. The covers seemed the logical answer. Then I heard it.

"Psst." I sat up and looked around. There was nothing to see. The door was still locked, string on the floor, and paper slightly jutting out between the door and the frame. My eyes scanned every corner and I decided that I was imagining the sound. It must have been the covers rustling.

"Psst." I heard it again. I sat up faster, perspiration moistening the skin on my face, and again saw nothing. Then I heard it again.

"Over here. I don't mean to startle you. Over in the corner." I strained my eyes to look in the corner. There was a jacket on the hook, a long coat, Bobbie's favorite jacket, and a long hooded sweatshirt. Wait, the sweatshirt had feet.

"Who are you? How did you get into my home? Walk into the light so I can see you better."

I heard a hearty laugh as the figure moved forward. It wasn't a menacing one, just one of good humor that had heard the best of jokes. "Why are you laughing?"

Out from the corner of the room stepped a rather small figure. There was no face, just a figure dressed in a hooded sweatshirt, hood up, and shoes coming from the bottom of the shirt. "I'm sorry but the irony was impossible for me not to notice."

"Irony? Who, what are you?"

The figure came closer and I recognized it as something from my past. I couldn't quite place where I had seen the form; I just knew that I recognized it from somewhere. "The irony of you saying 'Walk into the light.' It was just too much for me. I had to laugh. That's usually my line."

"And you say that because?" It was funny, I should have been terrified, but there was an odd peace that came over me.

"I'm God."

"What? You can't be! You look nothing like God."

"Oh, I see you are the expert." The form laughed a bit at that point and continued on. "You have me pictured in your mind as a cross between Santa and Charlton Heston, with a little bit of Morgan Freeman popping in there periodically. I really enjoyed the other look I found. These days everyone has me looking like Heston or Freeman. I hunted for something else and came up with what you pictured Mrs. Which from "A Wrinkle in Time" would look like. You really enjoyed that book. I did too. I inspired Madeline to write it."

That was where I had seen the character, in my head. "I loved that book, but this really isn't very convincing. How do I know you aren't the Devil or something truly evil?"

"Think back. Have you been calling out, 'Oh evil entity, come to me? No, you've been pleading with me to come, to help. You repeated Mark 11:23 enough times I'm even tired of it. The 23^rd Psalm floated out of your mouth ten times a day. Do you think evil would come to you after all that? It only comes when it is invited and that definitely wasn't a dinner invitation. Quit being such a dufus."

I sat and thought for a moment. All that the figure said was true. Evil can only come when you ask it. "But, you don't talk like God...The term 'Dufus' isn't exactly heavenly."

"And neither is your mind. I link to you through your spirit, so it is your words and dialect that I use. You aren't exactly Moses or King James. You're a lot less intense but more fun than they were. I've tried every way I know to get your attention, but you looked away. At first I sent angels, but you ignored them. Have you ever tried to boost the morale of an angel? They have such fragile egos. It was useless. And while I'm mentioning a few things, you begged me for help with your book, and then when you make the best sellers list; you give the credit to those socks and wear them continuously. That hurt my feelings a bit.

Anyway, I tried everything. I left notes for you, and then you thought, 'Oh my Loopyville here I come.' So I came to see you in person. I like to get out of the office occasionally and do a road trip. This seemed like one very good reason. I love you too much, as I do all my creations, to let this go on."

"About what? You came to see me about what? What has gone on too long?" I felt chills as I waited for the answer.