Page 2 of The Fifth Life of Alicia
God?
What?
I stared at him, blinking aimlessly. “I’m dreaming, aren’t I? All those years of being forced into Sunday School at the local church as a child are finally coming back to haunt me.”
The man who called himself God shrugged. “It makes no difference to me if you believe me or not, dear. I’m still God either way.”
“All right. Fine. You’re God.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “Where am I, then?”
“You’re in the Department of Reincarnation.”
“The Department of—” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “What is this? The County Council of Heaven headquarters or something?”
God paused, pinching his lips together. “Pretty much.”
I sighed. “If that’s true, then I guess Ariana Grande was wrong. God isn’t a woman. What a blow to the feminist movement.”
“I did like that song. Quite catchy. Ah, hold on.” God shimmered, and the handsome male form was taken over by one that was remarkably like Marilyn Monroe, complete with the famous white dress.
What was happening right now?
I scratched my chin. “Uh, God? Are you okay?”
“I can take whichever form I desire. I have no gender. I am simply God.”
“That doesn’t explain why you look like Marilyn Monroe.”
He shrugged, shimmering back to the handsome male form he’d been in previously. “Even I can play favourites among my children.”
Sure, sure.
Why not?
As far as favourites went, Marilyn was arguably a solid one.
“Uh-huh.” I dropped my hand from my face and sighed again. “Well, you have excellent taste, God.”
“Thank you.” He smiled as if he were proud of himself for such a creation. “Now, onto business. You are… Alicia Montgomery, but you go by Allie, correct?”
There was no point asking how he knew that.
He’d just say, “I’m God,” wouldn’t he?
“I’d say I’m here in the flesh, but I don’t think I am,” I quipped, gesturing to my body. Or what I assumed was my body.
He chuckled.
Good to know God had a sense of humour.
“And you died today after being hit by a drunk driver at a crossroad after you left work early. Hmm. You weren’t supposed to go yet.” He tapped his finger against his lips. “Fiddlesticks. That’s always a tough one. Hmm.”
I got the sense I shouldn’t respond to that.
What was one supposed to say to something that essentially meant, ‘oh shit, you weren’t meant to die yet?’
Thank you?No, I think not.
“Well, that explains how you ended up here,” he said chirpily, all traces of confusion brightening his expression. “You were a good and honest person in life, so it looks like you get another shot at the whole shebang. How about it?”
