A fourteen year old finds himself seated on a chair.  His puffy black hair shakes as he looks left, right, and then down at himself.  Something is off.  He tries wiggling his toes, success.   All ten spread open and move up and down.  The phrase, “seeing is believing” has the counterpart, “don’t trust everything you see.”  He stands up and, after taking his own pulse, pats himself down.  The body underneath his gown feels fine…

Wait, I wasn’t wearing a gown earlier.  He was at the library checking out some medical books.  Where are his sneakers?  Why is the front of a bus the last thing he remembers before arriving to where ever he is? 

The malicious god cracks a crooked smile from atop of his chair.  He crosses his legs and taps his diamond tipped cane against the floor.  The resounding pa-chi alerts the boy to his presence.  The suave voice he speaks with has a guttering tick.  “Figured it out yet?  No?  I’ll give you a clue.  This ain’t heaven.”

The boy, despite his natural tanned complexion, turns chalk white.  The malicious god waits for the boy to respond.  The reply doesn’t disappoint, “I’m dead?  Or is this a coma?  Who are you?” 

“A god.”

“No, you’re not.”

The malicious god’s laugh is a crackle that stabs the boy’s ears.  He covers them, but he can’t block out the sound.  The malicious god uncrosses his legs and leans forward onto his cane.  He rests his chin atop both hands and says, “That’s right, I forgot.  You’re Catholic.  Call me the demon-god of another world if that’s easier.  Let me to clarify some more.  Your god has plans.  You would have grown up to be a successful physician finding cures for leprosy and meningitis.  More ‘n that, you’d have succeeded in curing your brother.  Those books you checked out were the start of your ship.”

“So you killed me?  Why?  To keep me from saving lives?”

“Wrong, it ain’t nothing so malicious.  Don’t even have anything to do with your God’s plans.  You’re nothing more than my personal reality T.V. show.  I want nothing than ta see how someone acts once removed from his rails.  And knowing what you’d ‘ave accomplished, that just makes this so much more fun.  You no longer live that safe and comfortable life where you were free to study.  The sickly brother who motivated you is gone.”

“Except, you killed me.”

The malicious god laughs again.  He grins baring a mouth full of canines.  “Stupid boy.  Did you forget?  I am a god!  My abilities are fathomless to you.  Reincarnation is child’s play, but I can’t just send you like this.  Alright, I grant you mastery over the language spoken in my chosen world.  It ain’t free though.  The price?  Your name.”

“What do you mean my na-?”

A bright light surround the boy and blinds him.  Sound enters his ears as he uncovers his face.  Birds chirp and tree leaves rustle, “A forest?”  That false god gave him some clothes too; shoes, pants, a sash, and a tunic.  They’re strange, stiff, and somewhat baggy.  Overall, nothing like he’s used to, but better than that gown.  Regardless, he keeps hope that everything is just a coma induced dream.