Deicide

My Death

 Our efforts were beginning to seem fruitless until the Devil said "this one." We regrouped under the tree.

 It was an unremarkable apple tree aside from the words God Wuz Here carved into the trunk and how the apples almost seemed to glitter in the sunlight.

 "I haven't seen this tree in a long time," the Devil said. "You know it wasn't an apple tree back then. It used to be a fig tree."

 "Then why is it an apple tree now?" I asked.

 The Devil shrugged.

 I picked an apple. "If I eat this, will I get pregnant?" I joked.

 "What? No. God did that, the apples are perfectly harmless."

 I took a bite. It tasted almost like every kind of apple and with each time I chewed it changed. Red delicious, Granny Smith, Macintosh, golden delicious.

 "Oh my God, this is amazing," I said, devouring the rest of the apple.

 I grabbed a few more and put it in my backpack that we had purchased in LA.

 "We need a perfectly ripe one," the Devil said, inspecting each apple.

 He found a satisfactory one, picked it and handed it to me. I put it in the other pocket of my backpack along with the Ark dust.

 The ground rumbled and Michael popped out  like a sunflower seed from one's mouth.

 The Blade was already in my fist.

 Michael smirked and pulled his out.

 I lunged, sinking the Blade into Michael's chest.

 He looked shocked, then smirked and turned into mist.

 I realized what was happening.

 "Oh fu-"

 I felt Michael's cold blade slide through my back and watched it poke out between my ribs.

 I fell on my face and heard Michael disappear.

 I was turned over and saw the Devil and Jessica standing over me with identical concerned looks.

 "How bad is it?" I slurred shakily.

 "I'm gonna be honest," the Devil said, "it's not too good."

 "Can you fix him?" Jessica asked hysterically.

 "I don't know," the Devil said solemnly.

 He kneeled next to me and started working.

 The world melted.

 * * *

 I was standing in a fancy office. Clouds drifted by outside of the window. Desk toys lined the mahogany desk and a bible overflowing with sticky notes lay on top of a typewriter. Next to the typewriter was a telephone.

 "Please, sit."

 I turned to see a man of maybe fifty standing behind me. His salt and pepper hair was combed and held in place with product so it shone. His bespectacled eyes looked tired but kind.

 "Who are you?" I asked. "Where am I?"

 "I'm God," the man said. "You're in Heaven."

 "Am I-"

 "Dead? No. Not yet at least." God sat at the desk and gestured for me to sit. I obeyed.

 "Then why am I here?"

 "I wanted to talk."

 "So you had me stabbed?"

 "It seemed appropriate considering you intend to do the same to me." He chuckled then noticed my serious face and stopped.

 "So you want to talk me out of it."

 "No, no, no. I wrote the prophecy after all. I just wanted to prepare you."

 "How do you mean?"

 "I know you will kill me. I know you want to and I have accepted that reality but Michael and the other angels do not understand that everything happens for a reason and it is not my place to tell them so they will try to prevent you from killing me." 

 I sat in silence and watched God fiddle with his desk toys.

 "You know I'm not the original God?" he asked rhetorically. "I'm the sixth."

 "Sir?"

 "Gods switching around is much more common than you think. I've only been God since the 1780's."

 I remained silent.

 "I know why you hate me but do you know why others hate me?"

 "You ignore them?"

 "Well, yes and no. They think that because I don't respond it means that I don't exist or care but do you know why I do it?"

 I shook my head.

 "There's an expression: 'Heaven helps those who help themselves.' People can't rely on me to magically take care of their problems because if I do they don't learn anything. I can meddle with minor things occasionally which is what you call luck but people have to achieve things on their own so that they learn something."

 "How is this relevant?"

 "I will fight you when the time comes. I will not help you avenge your mother or fulfill my prophecy. You must do it on your own."

 He checked his watch. "Time for you to go. I really am sorry about your mother."

 "I have one question though," I said.

 "Yes?"

 "How did you become God?"

 "I killed the previous one."

 Everything went black.