Write About an Arrival that Caught You or Your Character Completely Unaware.

God had showed up at the front door today.

There was the sound of glass breaking, and the apartment door being jimmied open. God was tall and thin, he must have been no older than myself, but his bony frame, pot-marked complexion and bloodshot eyes told me he had lived a million lives. God skittered like a rat in a maze, I could hear him tearing through the living room looking for the same thing that I was looking for: To Abscond.

I know what you're thinking, "Oh geeze, another one of those stupid 'miracle' stories that saves the main character from certain death." But I promise you, it's not that kind of story.

I think we both were caught off guard of each other when he spotted me atop the kitchen table with the rope around my neck. Yes, I was going to hang myself in the kitchen. I am a failure at life, I had lost the 8th grade soccer match that day, and my parents had finally finalized the divorce and my mother had moved us three-thousand miles away from Sweden, leaving me alone most of my day while she went out and worked 2 jobs to keep the lights on. That classic American Hustle. Like anybody would care if another youth were to die in today's society, it happens here so often that they stopped showing it on the news. Because why bring anyone down during this American Turkey Day? I am a failure of the American Dream, and a failure to my country.

He kept staring at me, taking in my sobbing, tear stained face. I was trying to explain myself in broken Swedish to a strung out Hispanic teenager. I was getting no where. Thus the story of my life, you try and try to be heard but nobody ever listens. He came towards me, watching me cower. But at that moment, I knew we had an understanding....

Then, he slaps me. It fucking hurt. Like, a lot.

"Bajar" God said, "Bajar, DOWN! culo!"
"Nej!"
"IDIOTA! BAJAR AHORA!"

He cut me down and placed me in the chair. I am beyond stunned. Ashamed that I cannot complete a simple task. He hands me a cigarette and starts off to the door with my mother's jewelry.

"Varför?" 
"Que?"
"Varför? Der ish onle smärta"

He saunters over, then squats so his face is next to mine. I can smell the pain on him, it rises and creates the invisible steel that connects our eyes to each other.

He speaks:
"Ya can't have fun if yer muerto. Is that smarrta dat makes ya smarter, ese. Pain es precioso." 
He closes my eyes with his stained fingers. I can smell the nicotine clouds hover over us like angels. "Love all of it. Make life yer bitch homes. "

When I open them, He's gone. Along with 200 in cash and my mother's knockoff earrings. I cross over to the living room window, glass spiders glisten perfect in the afternoon sun. I toss some cardboard over the window then go outside to play.